A man in a faded blue cotton shirt and rugged jeans stood a few feet away, a vintage camera hanging from his neck. His eyes were warm, curious, and apologetic.

The Srivilliputhur Andal temple stood tall, its gopuram kissing the pale orange sky of dawn. Trisha finished drawing a perfect kolam at the temple threshold—white, red, and yellow—a tradition she had followed since childhood. She hummed a verse from Andal’s Tiruppavai , her anklets silent for now.