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Grandmother pressed the worn ANDAL Coins into my palm, their ancient Tamil inscriptions catching the light. She'd carried them across continents, through decades of displacement, a tangible thread to our roots. At PaybookClub last week, I finally understood why. Surrounded by diaspora members sharing stories, I realized these coins weren't just metal. They were our defying answer to erasure, our fine resistance against forgetting. I opened my ledger, recording their value not in currency, but in belonging. Each person nodded, recognizing themselves in this inheritance. We were scattered seeds, growing together, roots intertwined across oceans.