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Amma's trembling fingers hit post on the video. Thirty seconds of her singing Thiruppavai, the same devotional she'd taught my mother, who taught me. In Toronto, I'd felt the defeat of distance, craving connection to our Tamil roots. The likes catapulted overnight. Comments flooded from cousins in Chennai, strangers in Singapore, diaspora members scattered worldwide. The monetization kicked in, modest but real. But the real payment? Watching young relatives comment: "Teaching my kids this now." Our secret plot had worked. Heritage, preserved through pixels, lived again through all of us.