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My grandmother scrolled endlessly, chasing viral moments for coins. She'd forgotten Avvaiyar's wisdom about simplicity until my daughter asked why Ammachi looked sad despite thousands of likes. That evening, I played a Swami Paramarthananda discourse. His words about true wealth dissolving the algorithm's grip stirred something ancient within her. She deleted the apps. Now she teaches my daughter Tamil poetry, sharing stories our ancestors crafted. Friends came and went through screens, but this warmth remained tangible, affordable, ferocious in its authenticity. In reclaiming heritage, we discovered something social media never promised: belonging that wasn't for sale.