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Meera's hands trembled as she adjusted her saree, the same silk her grandmother wore during legendary Bharatanatyam performances decades ago. The audition was online now, clips submitted to strangers who scrolled past in seconds. She danced Kannadasan's verses, pouring grief into each mudra. The algorithm promised cash prizes, exposure, relevance. But watching the view counter climb felt hollow compared to dancing in the temple courtyard, surrounded by elders who truly understood the art. When her village friends gathered to watch, something shifted. Their tears mattered more than viral metrics. Heritage, she realized, thrives not in feeds but in hearts.