Shehla, the bubbly activist from Bhopal. You were a fiery girl, who led activism on issues that mattered. We became friends on facebook in March 2010. You helped me in my maiden activism cause, the fight for abolition of the Permanent Residents Bill. We spoke about issues and exchanged ideas. Over more than a year, we exchanged notes, pleasantries, birthday, eid, diwali wishes. You was there. A part my friends list. A part of my daily news feed and causes appeals. A part of my likes on the statuses. A part of my comments threads. You loss is more than a connection cut off. Everyday, the obituaries flowing into your page make my news feed. Your friends keep posting updates on your murder case on your page. As if Shehla, you were reading them, hoping that the people who shot you dead will be punished for what they did. You are alive in my life every day. Someone will keep telling you what happened to your killers.
Vikram, you didnt have to go the way that you did. I am baffled at the circumstances. I have missed calls from you on my skype and messages on my facebook on my birthday. That mail on my phone in the middle of my working day, stopped time for me. I had never met you. Yet, I knew you well professionally. You were working with my team on our HR solution. We had several skype chats and calls. Today, I am sorry I missed all those calls from you. I wish I had taken them. I dont know how they would have helped you not dying. But I wish I could make every missed opportunity to be there for you possible. My office called you a day before you died. You said you were sick and will be replying to their emails as soon as you were able to. How did you pass away? You didnt plan it. Your investors told me you made the agenda for the shareholders meeting just the day before you fell from the bathroom window of your hospital room. Vikram, you were too young to go. The obituaries on your facebook page are a part of my news feed. People remember you as the humble, soft spoken guy who was an asset to know. People want to come forward and ensure your young wife and kids do not suffer. I also spoke to you. Through your facebook page. Telling you that I couldnt believe you were gone. Telling you I cant express my sorrow enough. As if you would log in and read it wherever it is that you went when you fell from that window.
One day, when I am no more, someone may be doing the same to me. Tagging me in their tweets, updating my facebook news feed with songs and poems, leaving comments on my blogs. Telling me of things that they could'nt say or do when I was alive. Death,as we know of it is so sudden that I would'nt have the time to log in and change my status to dead.