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Grandmother clutched the worn letter, Kannadasan's verses tucked inside. Her grandson scrolled through his phone, watching strangers donate to trendy causes. She'd saved every rupee for fifty years, teaching him Tamil songs nobody remembered anymore. "Paati, why not post this online?" he asked, gesturing at her savings tin. She smiled, placing the letter in his hands. "Real wealth isn't counted in clicks, beta. It's in what we pass down, what binds us together." He finally understood. Some treasures need no algorithm, only hearts willing to receive them.