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Grandmother's voice trembled through the old speaker as she sang Thiruppavai, each Sanskrit syllable a prayer wrapped in Carnatic melody. My daughter watched, mesmerized, while I livestreamed to our scattered family. The app's counter climbed: likes, shares, cash rewards accumulating quietly. Strange, how digital currencies could measure something so sacred. Yet here we were, monetizing memory, turning devotion into engagement. But watching my daughter's lips shape the ancient words, I understood. This wasn't betrayal. It was survival, evolution. Our heritage found new vessels, new voices. The music didn't diminish; it multiplied, reaching cousins in distant cities, children who might never sit in that temple. We were building something together.