My Dearest Pallavi,
Twenty years. Two decades. Bees saal. I still remember the moment I saw you in 2005 and somehow just knew — that the universe had made a decision on my behalf, and for once in my life, I had the good sense not to argue with it.
And argue I have, about everything else since then. Small things, big things, things that mattered, things that absolutely did not. You always knew the difference. I’m still learning.
Twenty years ago, I got the better part of this bargain, and I knew it even then. What I didn’t know — what I couldn’t have known — is how much better it would keep getting. How you would become not just my wife, but the very definition of home. How your strength would quietly hold together everything I was sometimes too stubborn, too distracted, or too certain of myself to hold.
At year 5, I was still marveling that you put up with me. At year 10, I was writing poetry for you in Hindi, because some feelings don’t fit in just one language. At year 12, I was joking that you won every argument — but the truth is, I never really minded losing to you. At year 17, I told you that when I have to choose between building the next big thing and choosing you, I will always choose you. I meant it then. I mean it more now.
Twenty years have not dimmed you, Pallavi. You are newer, brighter, more you with every passing year. You somehow found a way to be a wife, a mother, a daughter-in-law, a sister, a business partner, a friend, a teacher, and a critic — all at once, all with grace, and mostly without complaint. I complain about things that don’t exist. You handle things that most people couldn’t imagine.
I know I am not a perfect husband. I make the same mistakes with impressive consistency. I lead with my brain when I should lead with my heart. I sometimes hold onto what doesn’t matter and let go of what does. But here is what I have learned — slowly, and occasionally at the cost of a $15 rose bouquet and a $5 Hallmark card — that in the big picture, the small things don’t matter. What matters is this. Us. What we have built. This life that is ours.
So on this, our 20th anniversary, on the day before Valentine’s Day, I want to say something I mean with every part of me:
You are not just my Valentine. You are my answer — when I ask for happiness, when I ask for love, when I ask for life itself. The whole universe conspired to bring you to me, and twenty years later, I am still grateful every single day that it did.
Here’s to twenty more. And then twenty more after that. On this roller coaster of love, laughter, arguments, surprises, delicious chai, and everything in between — I wouldn’t want to ride it with anyone else.
Happy 20th Anniversary, Pallavi. Happy Valentine’s Day.
Always yours, Ashish