You are remembered everywhere, Sab!
It was almost four years ago that you walked into my library and found me crying. The first thing you said, and rightly, was, "Are you thinking of your father?"
My father died in 1963 and I have cried about him often. Every time I saw a lovely film, read a wonderful book, heard a delightful song, got transported by a piece of classical music, listened to a remarkable performance of a Qavvaali, or found a superb shayr, I thought of him. And, very very often, I sobbed. It has been over half a century and this still happens to me.
You've been gone for 15 months and I cry just as often … for the same reasons that I listed for my father. I miss your friendship beyond belief. I miss your conversations, your humour, your laughter…