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Amma clutched her phone, watching the number climb. Her Srivilliputhur lace—the intricate work her grandmother taught her—had found buyers across borders. Each transaction wasn't just cash flowing in; it was validation. She'd filmed herself stitching by her temple's golden spire, sharing ancient patterns with strangers who became admirers. The network connected her to a world craving authenticity. Her daughter smiled, managing orders. Their Tamil heritage, once confined to family rooms, now sustained them. The digital age hadn't erased tradition; it had given it wings. Amma stitched on, connected yet rooted.