My dearest Nasreen

Your friends from Holy Cross, especially the expatriates stand frozen in grief. We call each other, email, try to get on with our daily lives and then stop as yet another memory floods our mind and transports us back to the high school years, thirty years ago. How young, how passionate, how confident we were, do you remember? We could and would make a difference we said. One by one we left, to acquire the necessary skills abroad. Some of us got distracted stayed on in foreign shores, picking up different causes. But you were steadfast and returned, and made the difference. But you never judged us, because that was not you you only had unconditional love for your friends.

Do you remember Marylebone Station? 20 years ago. You were telling me about some of the issues you wanted to address the rights of women of course silent abuse at the home front. The right to be beautiful and independent without fear of unwanted attention and reprisals. Only someone as fearless as you could think this was a fight you could pick up and win. My train came and went and we still sat in the platform talking, until the last train arrived and the station was being shut? Another memory, even further back, I came to see you, States or Dhaka (I can't remember). You read me a poem: The snow has fallen, my friend is coming, and we will stay up all night and talk... We did. I didn't realise how lucky I was to have taken so much of your time.

Last summer when we met, we laughed at our younger selves. We are such non-conformists you said, always were. "I am so proud of you", you said to me. I was astonished, other way round? Isn't that typical of you? You let me hold your daughter; so proud of her you hugged mine. I am glad you had the pleasure of being a mother, however brief. Then we talked about your work again, Action Aid. Which social issues needed more lobbying? The rights of women, how much further we had to go. The fire in your speech, the clarity of your thoughts, the single-mindedness of your approach entranced me. You were encouraging me to start up some research links with Dhaka. So optimistic, allaying my fears; anything is possible given the will. You never seem to entertain any doubts what has to be done must be done. That my friend may be your final gift to us never to doubt the differences and ourselves we can make.

Happy, tributes and eulogies are pouring in. Did you realise how many people's heart you had touched? All this is far too early though? I was looking forward to breaking rules as an octogenarian with you.

I talked to two other school friends of ours, of 30 years ago. You are bringing us together another gifts my healing friend. I feel ungrateful, I would rather have you alive and doing your amazing work, and meeting me once in a blue moon when we talk as if we still were the idealistic girls of yesteryear and the world is our oyster, and we will live forever and time is a commodity that never ends.

Farewell.