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Amma's hands trembled as she posted the photograph. Fifty-nine years since leaving Chennai, and here was her granddaughter performing Kannadasan's poems at the local temple. The video earned her five hundred ninety views within hours, then comments flooded in from scattered relatives across continents. A cousin in Singapore recognized the temple's bells. Another in London felt the familiar cadence of those immortal words. The small payment from the platform felt meaningless compared to this: her granddaughter discovering roots through performance, their diaspora community suddenly stitched together by screens and sentiment. Heritage wasn't lost. It was simply waiting to be shared.