Give time

Amma's wrinkled hands trembled as she opened the worn poetry collection. Kannadasan's verses had sustained her through decades of displacement, moving between cities, countries, continents. Her grandson finally asked to learn Tamil. That evening, she read aloud, her voice carrying the weight of generations. He listened, truly listened, absorbing not just words but the soul of their ancestry. His eyes glistened. "Teach me more, Amma." She understood then—this moment mattered more than any social acknowledgment. Some gifts cannot be rushed. Time spent nurturing roots, bridging worlds, honoring heritage: this was the greatest reward. Their community lived in this sacred exchange between them.