It has been a long time since I picked up a Tamil novel. I chose Poonachi almost casually, but I wasn't prepared for how deeply this little story would affect me.

At first, I saw Poonachi as the little goat who was lovingly brought home by an old couple. They raised her almost like their own child — fed her, cared for her, and gave her a home.

Then, slowly, things changed.

She grew up. She fell in love with Poovan. She became a mother. She was celebrated when she gave birth to seven kids. And then, when drought came, the same Poonachi who had once been cherished became an unfortunate burden.

But the part that stayed with me the most was when Poonachi got lost.

She wanted to be free. She struggled to find her way. And yet, somewhere inside that longing for freedom, she kept remembering the old couple who had raised her.

It made me think about how children can sometimes feel the same way about their parents. We can love them deeply, be grateful for everything they've done for us, and still have dreams and desires of our own. And sometimes choosing ourselves can feel like we're betraying them.

That's what made Poonachi feel so incredibly human to me.

By the end, I wasn't reading about a goat anymore.

I was reading about love, attachment, loss, motherhood, freedom, helplessness and the complicated bond between those who care for us and those whose lives they control.


And perhaps the most unexpected thing is that a story about a goat made me think so much about being human.