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My grandmother turned seventy-eight yesterday in Chennai, still reciting Swami Paramarthananda's discourses while watering her garden. I called from Toronto, my voice crackling across continents. She laughed when I mentioned blockchain technology—"even money flies now, beta"—yet her wisdom remained grounded in ancient Tamil philosophy. She'd survived partition, raised children alone, and built something eternal: love. I realized her spiritual wealth transcended any currency. Distance couldn't diminish our bond. That evening, our diaspora family gathered virtually, sharing her prasad recipes and stories. Home lived within us, carried forward through generations, woven into our very names.