From Harpreet

I have been trying to work out what to say and I keep coming back to the same things, which are the ordinary ones. The way he made tea in the morning and brought mine before his own. The way he watched the girls at their music lessons with an expression of absolute, unironic pride that he made no attempt to conceal. The way he stood in the Gurdwara kitchen and stirred dal for three hours and called it a privilege. He was not complicated. He would have found that description funny. He knew what he believed and he lived accordingly, and he did not see any particular virtue in this because he thought it was simply what you did if you paid attention. He was more devout than he was vocal about it, which is the right way round. He was my best friend for twenty-eight years. I have no way to express what that means and no intention of trying. The girls will tell you who he was. They are like him in all the ways that matter. Waheguru Ji Ka Khalsa, Waheguru Ji Ki Fateh.