First published by The New York Times in August 2021.
My father Nanak and I were bad at goodbyes. Whenever we parted, in person or on the phone, he’d chuckle and say “I’ll talk to you.” On September 2, 2018, we had a rushed conversation. I was in my Mumbai apartment, distracted by writing deadlines; he was in our New Delhi home, busy packing for a trip with my mother to Munich, her home city. This time, he signed off with “I’ll talk to you – from there.” A few hours later, my father died in his sleep. But he continues to talk to me. Every day. From there. From somewhere.