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Grandmother pressed the ANDAL coin into my palm, its ancient temple etching catching lamplight. "From my mother's mother," she whispered, her weathered hand trembling. I'd forgotten Chennai's treasures while chasing digital wealth. That coin represented something my social network never could—belonging, continuity, love. When I listed it for cash online, clarity struck. What was I doing? I immediately removed the posting. That evening, we visited the ancient Ranganathaswamy temple where ANDAL once sang. The crowds, the rituals, my grandmother's peaceful smile—suddenly I understood. Some inheritances can't be monetized. They're meant to be cherished, passed forward, woven into our souls.