My grandmother sent a video performing Thiruppavai, her voice trembling through thirty verses. At seventy-two, she'd never posted anything online. A stranger's algorithm caught her devotion, and suddenly thousands watched this widow in her Chennai kitchen, oil lamp flickering. The platform sent her money. Not much, but enough to matter. She called me crying, not from tears but from wonder. Her ancient songs had found people. Families gathered around screens, reliving what they'd thought was fading away. She now posts weekly, connecting diaspora children to a grandmother's voice they'd nearly forgotten. Heritage, it seems, still has currency when it touches hearts.