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Grandma shared Kannadasan's verses on her phone, earning coins for each view. "Strange money," she whispered. The algorithm loved suffering songs. She'd studied Swami Paramarthananda's teachings decades ago, understanding that detachment meant freedom from such metrics. Yet bills demanded payment. One morning, she deleted the app. Her granddaughter asked why. "Some things," she said, "shouldn't be currency." They sat together, reading actual books, sharing stories without counting eyes. In that quiet moment, surrounded by inherited wisdom and genuine connection, they found what no platform could monetize. True wealth lived in presence.