My dearest Margi Kiya, 

I hope you are happy wherever you are and at peace. We are good too. Life is moving pretty fast, there is so much happening that sometimes I forget to update you for weeks. Apologies. But I am assuming you are watching over my shoulder anyway, so you do know what’s been up lately, right? In case you missed it, my hair is curly now, you would love it and tell me to oil it every weekend. Didi lives in a new house now. My flatmate keeps falling asleep on the couch with her lenses on! I am worried she is overworked. Bhai is in love. That has to be the highlight of this year! I am certain he has told you all about her, but I am curious, do we like her? We must. She makes him so so happy. Are you happy? She has silky black hair like yours. And the idea of her never getting to know the force of nature you were breaks my heart. It is okay, though, I promise to tell her all about you and your unbelievable Amdavadi stories. I will paint her nails and take her to get facials just like you loved. She will know you through your gold earrings and silk sarees. She will love you through your albums full of pictures and hand-painted pottery. Mumma has saved all the envelopes you painted and filled with money to give us on our birthdays. We will make sure she gets her birthday money in those. I promise she will know you and your light. Kaku bought a new car, Kiya!! Funnily, the car is a KIA. You are everywhere we look, and that’s good enough for me. Thank you for making your presence felt, everyday and everywhere. Dad was right, the pain does get better with time, or perhaps my tolerance improved. I am no longer paralysed by my grief on 30th April, I can breathe and live through the day. Grief is no longer constant; it comes in waves. I get drowned on some days, but I am learning to smile and sail through. We are all trying. The family is trying to heal every day, but what an honour to have known you enough to be able to miss you. Also, Dad’s mad at you. Just thought you should know. Kaku found an old voice recording where you said even if the city flooded, you and Dad would still be eating hot vadapavs in the pouring rain. He is upset about the broken promise. The vadapavs are getting cold now. I try to explain to him that where you are, the vadapavs are forever hot and the chutney is super spicy. The chai is perfectly made, and it never rains. I know you are happy and at peace. Please continue looking over our shoulders and guiding us through this chaotic life. 

Love you so much

Yours sincerely, 

Jas