Ruchi,

Four months ago you were just a name on Instagram. Now you're the last thing I check before I sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up — which, given how much you sleep, is honestly unfair to me.

I don't have the version of us where I've held your hand crossing a road in Dubai, or shown up outside your office with your favourite coffee, or sat across from you while you go quiet mid-sentence, thinking about what to design next. All I have is video calls, time zones, and a phone that somehow still isn't enough space for everything I have to say to you.

But here's what I do have: every "jhut kyu bolta hai yaar," every call I didn't want to end, every time you got mad at me and I had no idea how to fix it — and somehow still wanted to. Your bindaas, no-overthinking way of deciding things has quietly rubbed off on me too, and I'm not complaining.

Happy Birthday, Jungleee. Somewhere out there is a version of this year where I'm not reading this off a screen — where the in-person edition finally ships. Until then, this is me, still choosing you, one video call at a time.

— Akash a.k.a Motu