She thought I didn’t see the unshed tears glistening in her eyes when we were going to ‘purani anarkali’ at three in the night, or the pain in her gaze when she was acting nonchalant in the evening and suggesting that we take a walk outside. All I wanted to do then was throw my arms around her…let her cry if she wanted to, talk about it if she needed to, tell her that I love her if it might mean anything to her, listen to her, comfort her, make her realise that I already understood but I wanted to understand more…anything that would make her feel any less helpless and hurt and angry about everything going on. But I didn’t. I just couldn’t. Not for lack of spontaneity, but of courage. And because of inexplicable embarrassment. I felt awfully revolted at myself, and I regretted it even more – I still do, but it doesn’t change anything because I lost that moment and, with it, the chance to do what might have helped at that point in time. Sometimes it’s humiliating to know your own short-comings so well and, yet, be unable to change yourself…sometimes it’s just sickeningly disgusting to be who you really are…

She never lost her poise at any of those times and she reverted to her cheerful demeanor within minutes, but I’ll never completely forget those vulnerable, naked emotions and the loneliness that I saw that night. Her integrity and strength surprised and impressed me; her fragility and sorrow nearly killed me, but all of it just made me love her more.

I was the last person to hug her at the airport yesterday, and I like to believe that I wouldn’t have cried as well even if they hadn’t left the next instant – I know that’s not true but I won’t admit it :)

I’m going to miss her a lot, I know that, but then I also know that I’ll think back on the last few days less and less as times go by and life picks up its usual pace…

I just hope I can always remember the last few days like I do right now, and I never forget to pray - for myself and for her…

God Bless You!