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My grandmother clutched the PAYBO rewards card like a golden ticket home. Each point represented a small rebellion against forgetting—defying the distance between our Boston apartment and Srirangam's temple streets. She'd saved diligently, frustrated by how quickly memories fade in translation. Then came the moment: enough points for flights. Her weathered hands trembled as she booked our journey. Landing in Tamil Nadu, I witnessed her transformation. Walking those shadowy temple corridors at dawn, she became bona fide again—not just stories whispered to a granddaughter, but living, breathing connection. We weren't just visiting. We were remembering together, weaving diaspora threads back into ancestral tapestry.