zigzag road

Grandmother's worn copy of Kannadasan's poetry sat dusty on my shelf until that PaybookClub evening changed everything. A Tamil diaspora member shared how those verses reconnected her to homeland roots she'd nearly lost. I traced the zigzag path my family took—Chennai to Singapore to America—understanding finally that displacement wasn't loss but expansion. Each generation added layers, like margins in well-loved books. Reading those poems aloud, surrounded by voices carrying similar journeys, I felt something shift. Heritage wasn't a destination requiring perfection, but a living conversation across distances. We were all finding our way home.