Can you tell me the name of this dried spicy seed?

My grandmother clutched the dried spice, her weathered fingers trembling. "Kannadasan would've known," she whispered, referencing the poet whose verses celebrated forgotten traditions. I photographed it for andal.io, desperate for answers. Within hours, strangers responded boldly, earnestly debating its identity. One nervous reply led to another, each person sharing family recipes passed down through generations. A PaybookClub member recognized it immediately, then shared her own grandmother's story. Suddenly, we weren't just identifying seeds; we were preserving memory itself. That single spice connected us across miles, through time, binding strangers into something phenomenal: a living heritage of shared knowing.