LESSON

My grandmother clutched the pottery shard from Keeladi, eyes glistening. She'd grown up in Srivilliputhur, hearing stories her mother whispered about ancient civilizations beneath our soil. When the excavations began, she filmed herself sharing these forgotten narratives, unburdened finally to divulge what lived only in memory. The videos gained traction. Digital platforms rewarded her authentic voice, her hands trembling as she touched two-thousand-year-old remnants. My favourite moment came when strangers commented, saying her words gave them goosebumps, connecting them to something deeper than themselves. She taught us the real currency wasn't views or likes. It was belonging to something magnificent, something we'd inherited together.