The Creator’s Toolkit: A Practical Application of Classical Tamil Poetics for Modern Narrative Design

Srinath SJun 22, 2025

Why?

Words are more than mere tools of communication; they are vessels carrying memory, meaning, and emotion. Among the world’s countless vessels, stories are the most cherished by the mind. They are the natural way we connect the dots of experience to remember facts and the wisdom held within. Storytelling is a fundamental human language technology, allowing individuals to build contextual memory and cooperate within communities.

Yet, herein lies the irony. In their quest to mirror the triumphs of Western and Eastern storytelling, sometimes even copying their tales, many new-age Indian storytellers have drifted from their own essence. Rigid frameworks like the three-act structure, the hero’s journey, and formulaic beat sheets have been built like walls around aspiring creators. This leaves them to either abandon storytelling for mere consumption or grow to resent the craft itself. Such structures often prioritize plot mechanics over a genuine human experience.

The responsibility of a storyteller is to explore, research, and discover the real meaning behind words, actions, places, and situations. Their purpose is to share what they have learned in a single work of art, using language as the raw material. A storyteller’s style will inevitably reflect the depth of their emotional, mental, and physical encounters. This is my attempt to organize what I am learning into practical modules for anyone looking to move beyond formulas and connect with the structures of reality. This journey will send us back to the core grammar of Tamil, where I found a more authentic and holistic way to build a narrative.”

Part I: The Foundational Principle: Azhagiyal (The Grammar of Authenticity)

In the vocabulary of narrative craft, creators are often given distinct tools for plot, character, and world-building, treating them as separate components to be assembled. Classical Tamil poetics, however, offers a unifying foundational principle: Azhagiyal. Commonly translated as “aesthetics” or “beauty,” the term embodies a more profound meaning. Azhagiyal is the art of crafting a complete experience that feels true, lived, and consistent in its thematic core and sensory detail. It is the principle that a work’s external form must be a truthful and organic reflection of its internal soul.

Understanding the classical roots of Azhagiyal requires synthesizing it from the philosophical ecosystem of ancient Tamil thought. The Tolkappiyam, the oldest extant work of Tamil grammar, suggests that Azhagiyal extends beyond surface beauty to encompass the skilful and elegant shaping of thought and meaning. This idea is powerfully illustrated in the Siddha system of medicine. Its philosophy of Thol maruthuvam (dermatology) perceives the skin as a direct reflection of a person’s internal health and balance. Just as healthy skin (azhagu) signifies inner well-being, a narrative’s external beauty, including its prose, visuals, and structure, must be a truthful manifestation of its internal logic and thematic integrity.

Ultimately, Azhagiyal is the principle of profound authenticity. A story possesses Azhagiyal when its world feels real because its rules are consistent, its characters feel real because their actions are psychologically true, and its emotions feel real because they are grounded in a tangible, sensory reality.

The Psychology of Azhagiyal: Sensory Detail and Narrative Transportation

This classical principle finds a powerful modern parallel in the psychological concept of Narrative Transportation. Proposed by researchers Green and Brock, this theory describes the mental state of being so completely absorbed in a story that the real world seems to fall away. A “transported” individual becomes an active traveller who mentally visits the world of the narrative and returns changed by the subjective experience. This state of immersion is the psychological mechanism through which Azhagiyal operates.

The creator connects the audience’s mind to their world through a delicate balance of two core techniques: “Show, Don’t Tell” and its equally important counterpart, “Tell, Don’t Show.” Showing builds the bridge with rich sensory details. For instance, a creator practicing Azhagiyal illustrates nervousness not by stating it, but by showing: “John grasped the handle with his sweaty hands, his heart pounding.” This transforms a label into a shared physical experience.

Conversely, telling is vital for efficiently conveying complex internal states or abstract information. To establish a character’s deep-seated cynicism, for example, it is more effective to state it directly: “He had long ago concluded that all people act only in their own self-interest.” Attempting to show this core philosophy through action alone could be ambiguous and slow the narrative.

This balance between showing and telling mirrors how the human mind functions. We process the world through direct, sensory experience (showing) and by forming abstract judgments and beliefs (telling). A story that respects this duality feels psychologically complete. For transportation to occur, the narrative must possess what researchers call psychological realism. Even in a world of fantasy, the internal logic and character motivations must feel consistent. When a character’s actions logically follow from their established personality and the world operates by its own clear rules, the audience suspends disbelief. This trust is the foundation of immersion and the basis for a deep story experience.

Practical Application: Aesthetics Authenticity Audit

To translate Azhagiyal from a philosophical ideal into a practical tool, a creator can employ what might be called an “Azhagiyal Authenticity Audit.” This diagnostic procedure uses a series of incisive questions to test the internal consistency, sensory richness, and “lived-in” quality of a narrative. The audit focuses on four key areas.

Internal Logic and World Consistency: The foundation of a believable world is its rules. The established laws of the world, whether physical, magical, or social, must remain consistent. Any violation of these rules without proper justification shatters the audience’s immersion and breaks the narrative contract.
Character Truth and Motivation: A character’s actions must be driven by their established personality, history, and motivations, rather than serving as mere puppets for the plot. Each character should feel like an autonomous being with a rich internal life, ensuring their choices are psychologically true.
Sensory World-Building: A world described only through sight feels flat. The audit asks if the world has been constructed through a full spectrum of sensory experiences. Beyond the visual, the narrative should incorporate what characters hear, smell, taste, and feel to create a truly embodied reality for the audience.
Emotional Honesty and Resonance: This principle scrutinizes whether the story’s emotional beats are earned. A character’s emotional response must be proportionate to the stimulus that caused it. An overly dramatic reaction reads as melodrama, while an insufficient one feels emotionally dishonest, severing the audience’s empathetic connection.

Ultimately, this audit reframes the creative process. It encourages the artist to think less like a mechanic assembling parts and more like a gardener cultivating a living ecosystem, where every element is interconnected and contributes to the life of the whole.

Part II: Structuring Emotion — Aru Suvai (The Six Tastes)

While Azhagiyal provides the foundational soul of a story, Aru Suvai offers a practical technique for its emotional body. This principle, translating to “the six tastes,” is derived from the rich culinary and philosophical traditions of Tamil culture. It functions as a sophisticated system for understanding, mapping, and deploying the core palette of human emotions within a narrative. For the modern creator, Aru Suvai presents a powerful alternative to conventional plot-driven structures, offering a method to design stories based on the principle of emotional completeness and resonance.

The Aru Suvai Framework: A Lexicon of Core Emotions

Aru Suvai structure is built upon the six fundamental tastes recognized in Tamil culinary tradition. The power of this system for a storyteller comes from its explicit mapping of these physical tastes to a palette of core human emotions. This connection is a deeply embedded cultural and philosophical concept, offering a ready-made structure for emotional design.

The six tastes and their corresponding emotions are:

Sweet (Inippu): Corresponds to happiness and satisfaction. It is the taste of joy, reward, and contentment.
Sour (Pulippu): Corresponds to disgust. It represents feelings of discomfort, moral unease, or revulsion.
Salty (Oovaruppu): Corresponds to fear. It is the taste of anxiety, tension, and suspense.
Pungent (Kaarppu): Corresponds to anger. It embodies rage, confrontation, and explosive action.
Bitter (Kasappu): Corresponds to sorrow. It is the taste of sadness, loss, and grief.
Astringent (Thuvarppu): Corresponds to surprise. It represents shock, revelation, and unexpected twists.

The philosophy underpinning Aru Suvai is the pursuit of balance. A complete South Indian meal, often called Arusuvai Unavu (six-taste food), consciously aims to incorporate all six tastes, creating a harmonious and satisfying whole. This principle is most explicitly demonstrated in Manga Pachadi, a ceremonial dish prepared for Tamil New Year. The dish is a deliberate concoction of ingredients representing all six tastes — jaggery for sweet, tamarind for sour, salt, chili for pungent, neem flowers for bitter, and raw mango for astringent.

Its consumption at the start of the new year is a symbolic act, a gentle reminder to approach the year ahead prepared to experience all of life’s moments, both sweet and bitter, with equanimity. This philosophy provides a direct and powerful metaphor for narrative design: a story that is truly complete and resonant must offer its audience a balanced diet of emotional journey.

Mapping the Emotional Arc: From Flavour Profiles to Narrative Beats

By translating this culinary philosophy into a narrative tool, a creator can design a story’s emotional arc with the precision of a master chef. A story that is exclusively “sweet” often feels emotionally bland, while one that is relentlessly “bitter” can become overwhelming. A masterful narrative, like a masterful meal, understands how to balance and sequence these emotional tastes to create a rich, complex, and ultimately satisfying experience.

This emotion-centric model offers a compelling alternative to other narrative paradigms. The dominant Western three-act structure is primarily driven by external conflict and resolution. The Eastern Kishōtenketsu structure pivots on a dramatic, unexpected twist. The Aru Suvai model proposes a third path: a structure driven by the pursuit of emotional completeness. From this perspective, a narrative’s goal is to guide the audience through a full and balanced spectrum of human feeling, leaving them with a sense of having had a nourishing emotional experience.

A creator can consciously design scenes and sequences as a progression of these emotional flavours. An act might begin with a “sweet” moment of success, introduce a “sour” note of moral compromise, build tension with a “salty” sequence of suspense, and culminate in a “pungent” confrontation. Furthermore, the Aru Suvai palette can be used to layer emotions within a single scene. A “bitter” funeral, for example, can be layered with the “sweet” taste of a fondly remembered story about the deceased. This layering technique is key to creating the emotional nuance and psychological depth that characterize sophisticated storytelling.

Part III: World as Character — Tinai

Where Azhagiyal demands an authentic world and Aru Suvai maps its emotional journey, Tinai provides the blueprint for making the world an active participant in the narrative. Far more than a simple classification of settings, the Tinai concept from classical Tamil poetics is a sophisticated system of environmental psychology for storytellers. It is the art of making the landscape a character in its own right — a narrative engine that drives plot, reveals psychology, and embodies theme.

The Five Landscapes of Emotion: An Introduction to Tinai Poetics

The word tinai literally means “to join” or “to integrate.” In a literary context, it refers to a complete poetical mode that seamlessly joins a specific landscape with a specific human emotion. It is a comprehensive method where the external world (puram) is used to articulate the most private internal feelings (akam). Each tinai is meticulously constructed from three core components: Mudal (First Things), the foundational context of time and place, such as mountains at midnight; Karu (Native Elements), the indigenous flora, fauna, deities, and occupations that serve as the symbolic vocabulary of the landscape; and Uri (Core Emotion), the essential human experience that the environment is meant to evoke.

Sangam poetics codified this system into five primary tinais, each a distinct fusion of environment and emotion:

Kurinji (The Mountains): Associated with the union of lovers. The dramatic, beautiful, and often perilous mountain landscape, typically set at night, mirrors the excitement and passion of a lovers’ tryst.
Mullai (The Forest): Associated with patient waiting. The gentle, pastoral landscape of the forest, set in the evening, reflects a lover’s faithful and hopeful anticipation for a partner’s return.
Marutham (The Farmland): Associated with a lover’s quarrel or infidelity. The fertile agricultural land by the riverbanks, set at dawn, becomes the backdrop for jealousy, tension, and conflict.
Neithal (The Seashore): Associated with anxious waiting and lamentation. The restless, turbulent sea, set at sunset, powerfully reflects the sorrow and anxiety of separation.
Palai (The Wasteland): Associated with separation and hardship. The harsh, sun-scorched arid landscape, set at midday, symbolizes the pain of an arduous journey or a difficult parting.

Tinai as Eco-Psychology: Externalizing Emotion, Internalizing Wisdom

Modern research confirms that our physical surroundings have a significant impact on our cognitive and emotional states; the Sangam poets understood this intuitively, creating a system where the entire ecosystem is precisely tuned to the emotional frequency of the narrative.

At its core, Tinai operates in two directions. First, it is a system for externalizing a character’s intimate psychological state onto the world, making the environment an active participant in their emotional drama. Second, it is a system for internalizing the lessons of that environment, allowing the character to derive philosophical understanding and life lessons from their surroundings.

This technique is far more sophisticated than simple pathetic fallacy. Where a simple approach might use rain to signify sadness, the Tinai system uses the entire landscape — its flora, fauna, sounds, and even the occupations of its people — as a unified system of meaning. This holistic connection transforms the environment from a passive backdrop into an active character that reflects and argues alongside the lead characters.

This principle moves beyond the classic dichotomy of “character-driven” versus “plot-driven,” weaving them into an inextricable whole. Consider Titanic. The ship is not merely a setting; it is a complete world designed to embody the story’s themes. More profoundly, the characters internalize the lessons of this environment. The ship’s sinking is the ultimate narrative event where the environment’s situation forces a philosophical lesson upon everyone. Faced with the cold, indifferent reality of the ocean, the ship’s rigid social hierarchies dissolve, teaching the ultimate truth that human divisions are fragile in the face of nature.

So, how does a creator apply this powerful principle? The process requires approaching world-building as an exercise in applied psychology. The setting is purposefully selected to match and embody the story’s core emotional conflict. For instance, a story about the sorrow of pining for a loved one (Neithal) finds its physical form at the seashore at sunset. Here, the specific cries of the heron, the smell of salt and drying fishing nets, and the sight of a lone kattumaram on the turbulent water can all serve as the physical manifestation of that grief. Similarly, a story about the domestic tension of infidelity (Marutham) might be set in a large, ancestral joint-family home, whose square, confining courtyards and subdivided rooms can begin to feel like a prison, reflecting the emotional entrapment of the lead characters.

Within this chosen landscape, every detail is imbued with purpose. The “native elements” (Karu) of the world are selected to function as a symbolic vocabulary. The sudden, rare bloom of a Kurinji flower on a mountainside can symbolize a precious, long-awaited union. The image of a wife weaving the day’s jasmine (Mullai) into her hair can embody faithful, patient waiting. The sound of a water buffalo churning through the muddy riverbank fields (Marutham) can reflect a character’s own internal turmoil. This vocabulary allows a character to project their feelings onto the world, seeing their own impatience in the restless sea (Neithal). Conversely, they can draw meaning from it, finding a metaphor for their own undying hope in the sight of a jasmine bud (Mullai) that will surely bloom the next day. Through this method, the distinction between the character’s internal reality and the world’s physical presence dissolves, creating a single, resonant emotional journey for the audience.

Part IV: The Art of Introduction— Paayiram

After establishing the principles of authenticity (Azhagiyal), emotional structure (Aru Suvai), and environmental storytelling (Tinai), the final piece of this framework addresses the crucial first contact between the creator and the audience: the beginning. The philosophy of Tamil aesthetics teaches a simple truth: for meaning to become memory, it must do more than reach the mind; it must touch the soul. Information becomes knowledge only when it is deeply felt. This is where art, and a powerful introduction, comes in. It is the vessel that carries not just information but emotion, and it is the first and most critical step in transforming a message into an unforgettable memory.

Unpacking Urai Paayiram: The Welcome Mat of Understanding

The term for this introduction in classical Tamil literature is Urai Paayiram, and its name holds the key to its function.

Urai (உரை): On the surface, Urai means a ‘talk’ or ‘speech’. In this context, however, it signifies something deeper: commentary that clarifies. It is a discourse that takes a profound idea and unpacks it, layer by layer, so its wisdom becomes clear and accessible to everyone.
Paayiram (பாயிரம்): While often translated as ‘preface’, Paayiram is infinitely more. The word for a traditional mat in Tamil is Paai (பாய்), which is spread on the floor to welcome a guest. Therefore, a Paayiram is literally “that which is spread out before.” It is the welcome mat the author lays for the reader, answering their unspoken questions: Should I invest my time here? What will I experience? Will it be worth it?

In this philosophy, the introduction serves a different function than the modern “hook.” Rather than being a device to merely grab attention, the Paayiram is a gesture of respect for the audience’s time and intelligence, establishing a foundation of trust from the very first words.

The Four Modes of Welcome: A Classical Toolkit

Tamil grammar moves beyond a simple definition by providing a practical, four-part toolkit for executing the Paayiram. This offers creators different modes of introduction to suit different contexts:

The Comprehensive Introduction (Pothu Paayiram): This mode addresses the work as a whole by systematically providing the reader with all necessary orienting information. Its logical sequence is designed to build a structure for complete understanding before the main content begins. It answers foundational questions regarding the work’s subject, author, lineage, intended audience, purpose, and crucially, the method of engagement. By defining how the text should be read — as a manual for application, a philosophy for contemplation, or a narrative for immersion — it provides the reader with the correct syntax for interpreting the content, thereby maximizing its utility and impact.
The Specific Introduction (Sirappu Paayiram): This mode functions as a preface to a specific chapter or section, ensuring modular clarity within a larger work. Its primary purpose is to re-orient the reader by summarizing relevant preceding concepts or narrative points. This allows each section to be understood on its own terms, making the overall work more accessible, especially for a non-sequential reader. It isolates the immediate topic, states its purpose, and defines its connection to the whole, thus preventing reader disorientation.
The Invocation (Vazhthu Paayiram): This mode establishes the work’s authority by grounding it in a tradition or lineage larger than the author. By dedicating the work to a guru, deity, or established school of thought, the author signals that the knowledge presented is not a product of individual ego, but a transmission of established wisdom. This functions to build credibility through association, asking the reader to trust the tradition from which the work emerges.
The Scholarly Introduction (Thodarbiyal Paayiram): This mode establishes the work’s unique contribution by placing it within its relevant intellectual landscape. It maps the existing field, citing and engaging with prior works. Its function is twofold: first, it demonstrates the author’s expertise and respect for the existing body of knowledge; second, it identifies a specific gap, a question left unanswered, or a new perspective that this work will address. This frames the text not as a repetition, but as a necessary and novel addition to an ongoing scholarly conversation.

The Modern Paayiram: The Opening Scene as a Narrative Contract

For the modern creator, the spirit of the Paayiram is embodied in the opening scene. While the classical Paayiram served as an intellectual contract for a scholarly text, the modern Paayiram functions as a narrative contract for a story. It is the creator’s first and most important opportunity to establish a set of promises to the audience regarding the genre, tone, core theme, characters, and the rules of the world they are about to enter.

The psychological power of this opening contract is underscored by the “serial position effect,” a well-documented cognitive phenomenon where people remember the first and last items in a series more vividly than the items in the middle. The opening scene, therefore, has a disproportionate and lasting impact on the audience’s perception of the narrative. It functions as the lens through which the rest of the story will be viewed.

As such, the opening scene is a critical component of the overall design, engineered to harmonize with the other principles of this methodology. It must be an authentic expression of the story’s soul (Azhagiyal), establish the initial emotional taste (Aru Suvai), and introduce the world as an active participant (Tinai).

The Creator’s Toolkit: Apply Classical Tamil Poetics for Modern Narrative

The four concepts explored in this toolkit, Azhagiyal, Aru Suvai, Tinai, and Paayiram, form a deeply interconnected and exhaustive system for narrative design. The journey begins with the Paayiram, which functions as a narrative contract to earn the audience’s trust. This promise ushers the audience into a world governed by Tinai, where the landscape is an active participant. The characters’ journey is then structured by the emotional map of Aru Suvai, ensuring a balanced experience. Finally, the entire creation is bound by the principle of Azhagiyal, which guarantees the authenticity of the whole. Together, these tools form a virtuous cycle to build a narrative that is not just told, but felt; not just observed, but inhabited.

In a media landscape largely shaped by the conflict-driven, three-act structure, this framework offers a significant creative advantage. The intention is not to abandon existing structures, but to expand the creative palette. It provides alternatives to the primacy of conflict as the sole narrative engine, suggesting structures built on the emotional balance of Aru Suvai or the environmental psychology of Tinai. By drawing from such diverse traditions, creators can move beyond familiar formulas and craft stories that embrace the ambiguity, harmony, and emotional complexity that resonate with a global audience seeking new perspectives.

My own understanding of these principles is an ongoing process, and I share this journey as a fellow storyteller on a path of rediscovery. I believe the most powerful narratives are anchored in lived experience, because a message will always travel farther wrapped in a story than in a sermon. This work is intended as an act of service, much like the Paayiram itself: an open invitation for you to apply this toolkit to your own creative process. If you have a value you believe in or a message that deserves to be deeply understood and remembered, I am available to help as a narrative consultant.

If you would rather watch this journey unfold than just read about it, you can do so here: 🎥 Watch here: GAVANI

Bonus: The Toolkit in Action

Here is a brief case study of how these four principles can be seen working in three globally recognized and vastly different films.

1. Parasite (2019)

Paayiram (The Welcome): The opening scene in the Kim family’s semi-basement apartment functions as a perfect narrative contract. The family’s hunt for a stray Wi-Fi signal and their indifferent folding of pizza boxes efficiently establishes their socio-economic status, their resourcefulness, their strong family bond, and the central theme of infiltration that will drive the plot.
Tinai (The Landscape): The film’s power is rooted in its urban Tinai, where architecture embodies the class struggle. The Kims’ cramped, dark apartment is a Palai (Wasteland) of hardship. The Parks’ sleek, sunlit mansion is a modern Marutham (Farmland/City), a landscape of sterile abundance that conceals conflict. The secret bunker beneath represents the ultimate Palai, a space of total separation and despair.
Aru Suvai (The Emotional Tastes): The film is a masterful blend of the six tastes. The initial con provides the Inippu (Sweetness) of success, layered with the Pulippu (Sourness) of their morally questionable methods. The discovery of the bunker delivers a shocking Thuvarppu (Surprise). The sequence of the family hiding from the Parks is pure Oovaruppu (Fear/Saltiness). The garden party climax is a tragic explosion of Kaarppu (Anger/Pungent) that leaves the audience with a deep, lingering Kasappu (Sorrow/Bitterness).
Azhagiyal (Holistic Authenticity): The film’s Azhagiyal is expressed through its flawless psychological realism, where every action is driven by believable character and circumstance. The sensory detail of “the smell” is the ultimate proof of this principle: an external, physical element that serves as a truthful manifestation of the intangible internal theme — a class divide that cannot be washed away.

2. The Avengers (2012)

Paayiram: The film’s opening scene serves as a direct narrative contract. Loki’s effortless defeat of S.H.I.E.L.D. and his theft of the Tesseract immediately establish a cosmic-level threat. This act makes the film’s core premise clear: no single hero can handle this foe, meaning the lead characters must assemble.
Tinai: The film uses its primary locations as functional emotional arenas. The S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier becomes a contemporary Marutham, a space of close quarters that serves as fertile ground for the heroes’ egos to clash. In the final act, the Chitauri invasion transforms New York City into a modern Palai (Wasteland), a landscape of shared destruction that forces the disparate individuals to finally unite against a common threat.
Aru Suvai: The film employs a classic blockbuster palette of emotional tastes. The witty banter provides constant Inippu (Sweetness). The tense arguments aboard the Helicarrier introduce Pulippu (Sourness). The looming threat of the Chitauri invasion builds Oovaruppu (Fear/Saltiness). The Hulk embodies raw Kaarppu (Anger/Pungent), while the death of Agent Coulson delivers the critical dose of Kasappu (Sorrow/Bitterness) required to galvanize the team.
Azhagiyal: The film’s Azhagiyal is rooted in its commitment to the established psychological truths of its lead characters. The friction between Tony Stark’s cynical arrogance and Steve Rogers’ steadfast idealism is treated as a core conflict. The authenticity of the story comes from this commitment; the spectacular external battle of the finale feels earned because it is a direct reflection of these internal conflicts being resolved into a functional, unified team.

3. Bahubali: The Beginning (2015)

Azhagiyal: The film’s authenticity is mythological. Its world operates on the internal logic of Dharma, honor, and destiny. The external grandeur — the impossible architecture and superhuman action — is therefore presented not as mere spectacle, but as a truthful visual reflection of the epic scale of its internal themes.
Paayiram: The opening sequence of Queen Sivagami’s desperate sacrifice functions as the Paayiram. A wounded royal saves an infant, points toward the kingdom of Mahishmati, and drowns. The narrative contract is signed: we are promised a mythic story about a lost prince, a secret destiny, and a kingdom steeped in violent conflict.
Tinai: The environment is an active character driving the narrative. The massive waterfalls that Shivudu yearns to climb are a landscape of Kurinji (Union), representing his desire to unite with his destiny. The kingdom of Mahishmati is the central Marutham (Farmland/City), a fertile ground for political intrigue and betrayal. The barren domain of the Kalakeya tribe serves as a Palai (Wasteland) for a brutal, defining war.
Aru Suvai: The film balances its emotional palette like a traditional meal. The romance and songs provide Inippu (Sweetness). The cruelty of Bhallaladeva evokes Pulippu (Sourness). The epic battles are filled with the Oovaruppu (Fear/Tension) of suspense and the Kaarppu (Anger) of combat. The film famously ends on a monumental cliffhanger, delivering a shocking blend of Thuvarppu (Surprise) and deep Kasappu (Sorrow) with its final, unanswered question.

Welcome to the process. Let’s rediscover the grammar of feeling, together.

Hi, I’m Srinath S

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