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Amma traced ancient Tamil Brahmi letters on her grandson's palm, whispering stories older than mountains. "One hundred sixty-two," she counted, pressing each stroke into his memory like starlight embedding itself in darkness. The boy watched her weathered fingers dance across parchment, recording family recipes and forgotten verses on something called Stellar blockchain. Digital immortality, she called it, preserving what colonizers couldn't steal. His heritage glowed on screens now, immutable and radiant. Amma smiled, knowing their Tamil songs would travel galaxies, touched by countless hands, growing brighter through generations who'd remember where they came from, where they belonged.