"More than a stunning debut. It is the announcement of a bold new literary voice"
—Stephen Chbosky, author of The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I never knew you.
Not in the sense a lot of people did. We were not close; I don’t even remember the last time I talked to you. Maybe that’s why I don’t understand why your death hangs above me like a cloud that never rains. It’s just blocking the light and it’s always dark around me. And the funny part is that when I go outside I can see the sun over everyone’s head but it’s just me who sees my cloud of sadness.

It’s been a week since I found out about you and it’s still there. That’s the problem with me, you know? I feel too much. I feel the pain of you mother and your father and your little brother. I can feel them waiting for you to come out of your room. I can feel the pain of your friends who are still waiting for you to pick up the phone. I can feel your little brother asking your mom about when you’re coming back home.

I was sitting on the first bench of my classroom talking to someone when I heard about you and the first thing, the first thing that came to my mind was your face, the exact same way I’d seen it a few days ago. I remember I was walking down the stairs in a queue with my class for the assembly and you were on duty at the bottom of the stairs. You just looked up and smiled. And I know that’s the face I’ll always remember. You, smiling at 8 in the morning when all of us were already waiting to go back home.

And I miss you in ways I think are too stupid to even mention. I look for you in the assembly. And I wait for you to walk past my bus to board the one that waits in front of mine. I’ll look for you among the dancers who perform at the farewell. And I don’t know how long I’ll wait for you, before finally accepting that you’re gone. I don’t know when the cloud above my head will move and find another head to hover over.
And I wanted to attend your prayer meet. I really did. But my parents still make decisions for me and they decided that it’d be too depressing for me. I’m sorry. But they would never understand what they did when they took a decision I should have made. They took away my chance of seeing you one last time. Of mourning you. Maybe my cloud would have left me had I just been there, among all the people who love you. Maybe I would have stopped waiting for you to come back. And maybe not. But they took away my chance and now I’ll never find out.

I had been dreaming of visiting this place called “Safety” all my life and I was finally on my way there when someone told me that the place doesn’t exist anymore. My feeling of Safety fell with you from the 12th floor and now it’s shattered into a million pieces. You made me realize how none of us will ever get to “Safety”.

And I wish I knew you, Ayushi. Even if this is exactly how we would have ended, you in ashes and my heart in pieces. I wish I knew you because you were beautiful. Still are. Always will be.

I know I would have loved you, because I remember this one time. We went to Jim Corbett, I was in 8th and you were in 7th. I remember packing my favorite pair of mauve shorts and a white shirt and I saved them for the Bon fire night because I thought I’d look beautiful in it. We all imagine ourselves looking beautiful in our favorite clothes. And I remember riding down the elevator and stepping out and it was nothing like what I’d imagined. I’d thought people would gape at me and wish they were me for those few hours but when I exited the elevator I was invisible. What’s worse for a 12 year old feeling invisible in her favorite clothes? And then there you were with your beautiful smile and you told me that I looked pretty and it made my night. And I always wanted to tell you how important that night was for me. I’m sorry I never told you but when you told me I was pretty, it reflected how beautiful you are. You saw beauty in me because you were beautiful inside.
I will never forget you.

Dance with the angels, beautiful. I’ll see you if I get there.