Open Letters Part Two


Dearest M.

Today seems like a fitting day to write to you because whenever I’m sitting with you and we’re having one of our crazy talks, it strikes me hard and fast that with you gone, I won’t have anyone to have these conversations with. Like I told you yesterday, ‘Why on earth do all my best friends have to be foreigners!’ is an epiphany I can’t get out of my head.

I don’t even remember the beginnings I need to go back to. But I do remember how I liked you from the very start, how it has always been fun having you around. And I had to choose one word to describe you recently- ‘Luminous’ was what stuck to my head and I do believe it’s true.

You’re the one I have thought-provoking conversations with. You’re the one who helped me discover one of the biggest revelations I’ve ever known- the lies of religion. You’re the one who understands when I talk about feminism and communism and communality and racism and all those other big things that keep happening around the world. And not just that, more often, you’re the one who tells me about big things that I then start to ponder about too. With you I can talk about the deepest things I know for hours on end because you never say, like most other people do, ‘Kitna deep sochti hai. Ooh philosophy.’ If we ask ourselves the question, ‘do all other people think this way?’ the answer comes out to be no. Only a measly percentage of the people surrounding us talk about things like this which is what makes it all the more precious.

But it’s not just the heavy conversations that make you so important to me. From talking about Ellen Degeneres to singing all the Hindi songs that you’re surprisingly so good with, from cracking wise-ass jokes and being sarcastic to talking dirty, from coming up with weird accents and recording them to conducting pretend sing-alongs ( ‘Just give me a reason, just a little bit’s enough’). I feel like we have talked about everything under the sun but there’s still a lot more left.

Perhaps some of the most amazing things we have come up with have been the crazy scenarios. B. Consp. – the conspiracy theory degree that we’ll be the founders of just because you and I both love our fill of mystery and intrigue, the ethnicity cleansing nightmare novel that we’re both too lazy to commit to, the dozens of tiny characters we role-play ourselves into and then laugh with the realization that we’re so funny and it’s sad that nobody is around to appreciate it.

But M., underneath all this funny, crazy, deep, dark and intense stuff that we do, I really admire you for being the girl who stands up for herself. A few years from now I might be living in a big city but you might just be rescuing people from some obscure corner of the world and that just makes me go ‘Wow’ every time I consider it. So yes, I have thought about the last goodbye, the last hug, the last words and it is too painful to contemplate upon. I don’t know what I will say to you guys when you’re leaving with no promises and no certainty of a next meeting. I don’t know who I’ll go to with the next crazy movie or book that makes my head spin around. But I do know that these four years wouldn’t have been the same without you around. I owe a lot of things to you, from the loss of religion to the streak of despair at humanity to the spark of wanting to do something about things in my own small way. You are and will continue to be a part of who I am.

Someday, we’ll go to a karaoke and sing a bunch of songs and sit in cute, ‘homely’ cafes and gorge ourselves silly and talk about life again.

Love,

S.

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