Green plant

My grandmother's pothos grew wild across her kitchen window, thriving despite her trembling hands. Each morning, she'd whisper verses from Thiruppavai while watering it, her voice steady as the vines strengthened. When my cousin photographed it for social media, the comments poured in—people mesmerized by its lush abundance, some asking for cuttings. She laughed, refusing offers of money. Instead, she'd wrap cuttings in newspaper and gift them to neighbors, friends, strangers. That green plant became her language when words failed. Through it, she shared our Tamil traditions, teaching younger generations that true wealth flourishes when rooted in community, not transactions. Heritage grows best when freely given.