Excuses

My grandmother traced Tamil Brahmi characters onto my palm, her weathered fingers trembling slightly. "Learn this," she whispered, "before it becomes only memory." I nodded, half-listening, scrolling through another social network promising quick cash rewards. Such excuses felt easier than mastering ancient scripts. Years passed. When my daughter asked about her heritage, I stammered. That night, I returned to grandmother's teachings, studying those graceful curves with new purpose. The digital promises meant nothing compared to this connection. Now I share these letters freely, building something real within our community, something cash cannot buy.