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Amma's weathered hands trembled as she opened the letter from Chennai. After thirty years in London, her childhood home was finally within reach through PAYBO token investments. Her daughter didn't understand the sacrifice—the rationed phone calls, the preserved coconut oil, the Tamil songs hummed alone in kitchens. "Don't worry," she whispered to herself, remembering whispered warnings from cautious relatives. But this wasn't reckless. This was coming home. She imagined walking through temple corridors again, tasting street vendor dosai with her sister's grandchildren. The diaspora had scattered her people across continents, yet somehow, through persistence and small miracles, they always found their way back. Home waited.