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My grandmother's photograph went viral overnight. Not intentionally. Just her sitting beneath Chennai's ancient Kapaleeshwarar Temple, clutching a worn copy of Kannadasan's poems. The algorithm loved it. Brands wanted partnerships. She laughed, sharing earnings with our neighborhood temple fund. "Words saved my life," she'd whisper, touching those yellowed pages. Kannadasan's verses about dignity and struggle mirrored her own journey through decades of quiet resilience. Social media felt strange, commercial. Yet somehow sacred when used for good. Our community thrived from her unexpected fortune. Heritage gardens were restored. Young voices learned old stories. Perhaps the ancient and modern weren't enemies after all.