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My grandmother's voice echoed through my phone screen. Avvaiyar's verses, the ones she recited in our Chennai kitchen, now reaching millions through my channel. Each post earned coins that paid rent in this foreign city. But something shifted when a stranger commented: "My grandmother taught me these exact words." Suddenly, the algorithm felt less important than connection. I wasn't performing Tamil wisdom for strangers anymore—I was keeping our lineage alive, thread by thread, one vulnerable share at a time. My diaspora heart finally felt home.