Missing this place

Priya scrolled through her phone, catching glimpses of Srirangam's ancient temples bathed in golden afternoon light. Her heart sank. She'd moved to the city chasing viral content, monetizing memories for digital frenzy. Every post earned coins, yet something precious had vanished. Yesterday, she uploaded a childhood photo: her grandmother's weathered hands arranging flowers at the temple entrance. Comments flooded in. But beneath the treasured reactions, Priya felt suddenly hollow. That evening, she called home. Her grandmother laughed, carefree as ever, describing the daily rituals Priya had abandoned. In that moment, she understood—true wealth wasn't measured in likes, but in bonds that bind generations together, in Chennai's living heritage passing through willing hands.