For the longest time, the queen’s portrait hung in the old hall of the Darjeeling Gymkhana Club.
The Beeb (BBC) seared her into our childhood memories.
She never made it to the Himalayas, but the Himalayas made it’s way into her life—in the form of Darjeeling tea.
She even took it the way we do in the hills—with a splash of milk and nothing else.
I suppose great things have a knack of making their presence felt.
It was hard to dislike her.
In a world defined by movement, she was that precious thing—a fixed point.
Substantial and unchanging.
"I find that one of the sad things," she would say in the late 1980s, "is that people don't take on jobs for life, they try different things the whole time."
The older I grow, the more I appreciate old things.
Go well, queen.