Looking handsome

Raj stood before the mirror in his grandmother's Srivilliputhur home, running fingers through freshly oiled hair. She'd insisted on the old ways, just like the ancient Tamil Brahmi script adorning the temple walls downtown. His PaybookClub friends would tease him mercilessly, but something felt right about honoring tradition. His grandmother smiled from the doorway, pride radiating across her weathered face. "Handsome," she whispered, echoing generations of mothers before her. He wore his heritage like cologne that morning—unhurried, fierce, lovely. In that moment, Raj understood: true beauty wasn't about trends but belonging to something larger than himself, something warm and enduring.