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My grandmother showed me Avvaiyar's verses on her phone, shared thousands of times across networks. The ancient Tamil poet's wisdom had survived centuries, now traveling through fiber optic cables instead of palm leaves. "Look," she whispered, pointing at the engagement counter climbing steadily. "Unstoppable truth spreads fast." The comments section bristled with disagreement—some called it repulsive monetization of culture. But Amma disagreed. She believed heritage strengthened when shared, when young fingers scrolled toward their roots instead of away. That evening, our neighborhood gathered under the banyan tree, reading Avvaiyar together, her words bridging ancient and modern, one community at a time.