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My grandmother's trembling fingers traced Tamil Brahmi script across her phone screen, each ancient letter glowing softly. She'd finally learned to read her mother tongue digitally, earning small payments for sharing family recipes in our ancestral language. Her eyes glistened with joy and pride watching her grandchildren gather around, withdrawal symptoms from endless scrolling forgotten. This was her favourite moment, their twitching thumbs stilled by her voice recounting stories only she could preserve. The diaspora had scattered us across continents, but through glowing screens, we found ourselves again, rooted in heritage, connected through belonging.