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My grandmother showed me Avvaiyar's verses while scrolling through an ancient texts app that somehow pays creators. The irony wasn't lost on me—monetizing wisdom meant to unite us all. Later, I visited Keeladi's excavation site, watching archaeologists unearth fragments of a civilization that thrived without algorithms. Those pottery shards, two thousand years old, held stories of community gatherings, shared meals, collective memory. I posted a single photograph of the artifacts. Within hours, the usual reactions flooded in: elite appreciation, paralyzed comments, enchanting shares. But something shifted. Strangers began connecting, discussing our shared heritage, our roots. Perhaps technology, for once, bridged what time had separated.