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My grandmother hummed ragas while scrolling through short videos, her weathered fingers dancing across glass. The algorithm showed her Swami Paramarthananda's gentle wisdom between dance reels that earned creators thousands. She laughed at the irony. "Everything teaches," she whispered, sharing her Bharatanatyam tutorial. Within weeks, strangers became students. Her living room transformed into a studio where classical arts thrived alongside monetized content. One evening, a young dancer sent payment for lessons. Grandma donated it to the temple. "See?" she smiled. "The old ways still feed us, beta. We just speak their language now."