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My grandmother clutched the yellowed book of Avvaiyar's verses, her weathered fingers tracing Tamil letters. She'd carried these pages through continents, from Chennai to Toronto, preserving wisdom for wandering children. "Earn honestly, spend wisely," she whispered, reciting the ancient poet's counsel to my restless cousin. He'd chased quick money, forgetting roots. The old words crackled between us like sacred fire. We gathered around her, craving connection, understanding finally that wealth meant nothing without integrity. Her PAYBO—proper attitude, yielding blessings, owning choices—became our compass. That night, our diaspora family remembered who we were.