Your letter is lying on my bedside table, unopened and soaked in sadness. It reached me this morning. I remember how you always cherished writing letters and termed email as an easy and cheap alternative. I remember being judged on my preference for emails. “Such a nagging tech buff you are Sarah! I hope one day you understand how amazingly surreal it feels to pull out an old rustic letter sent by a loved one.” I do understand you now Nehal. The sudden gush of nostalgia you talked about and old memories unfolding right in front of my eyes. It’s magical just like the little pleasures of life but, you are not here Nehal and every bit of it kills me from the inside. Nine years ago, we met at a paragliding club. I was an enthusiastic 20-year-old ready to feel the softness of clouds on my cheeks. Jumping from the hill, catching the hot wind and flying around for almost an hour with spectacular views, couldn’t think of a better weekend. “I don’t really want to die this early, you get that right?” Nehal was nervously informing his instructors and all of us around were laughing at him […]