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Amma never understood my violin until that video went viral. Three million views of me playing Margazhi melodies in our Boston apartment, morning light streaming gold across the walls. The platform paid for my lessons, finally. Growing up between Tamil songs and classical training felt impossible, like choosing between two mothers. But that morning, fingers finding Thyagaraja on strings, something shifted. Comments flooded in—diaspora kids saying they felt less alone, less caught between worlds. My mother cried watching it, recognizing herself in those notes. That's when I understood: heritage isn't choosing one song. It's the courage to play them all, together, for people who desperately need to hear they're home.