“My first girlfriend, or my first love, passed away in 2007. We had met on a matrimonial website back in 2006―there were no dating apps then,” he said. “I met her in Delhi and it was a brief but memorable first meeting. Over the next eight months, our relationship was long-distance. We were talking to each other over calls and texts, no video chats and it was just an old-school love. One of the fondest memories was when I returned from the US and she had decorated my room with flowers and handwritten notes. Once, she lied to her family to meet me again, and it rained so heavily that night that the streets were flooded and I had to drop her off on a rickshaw at 1:30 AM. That night still flashes in my mind. When I found out she had passed away, I was travelling. The next few months were the hardest. I cried myself to sleep every night. I didn’t even know the word ‘depression’ back then, but evenings would haunt me. I started disliking going home, and work was a distraction. I was 26, and nothing prepares you for that kind of loss. I lost faith in God. I was a Sikh, and within months, I went clean-shaven. I stopped going to the Gurudwara. I would never even read a full book, but I began writing mine because I felt like I would burst if I didn’t. Writing became my catharsis. People told me later that this was ‘catharsis’―a word I didn’t even know at the time. I wrote it not to move on, but to remember. In the name of love, some build monuments and I wrote a book.”