"Last Letter" Amrita Pritam wrote to beloved lyricist Sahir Ludhianvi upon his passing.

Every time I begin creating a song, my sweetheart, it feels like I'm writing you a letter. Folk songs' melodies have been known to cause crows to act as messengers and pigeons to carry messages in their feet. Becoming a letter carrier (Chitti Rasan) yourself is a fortunate path. However, there are just the winds to transmit a message if sending a letter to someone is not possible to deliver. Every song I've ever written has turned into a letter, and I felt a cloud like Kalidas's name.

 "I recall my initial letter to you, not to be familiar village caught my attention, and I wonder, "If this village is not to be familiar, then why are you not?"

 Your feet stepped through my door once. I noticed that there was a scent in the air you were breathing when I heard your voice. One day, you showed up holding a piece of paper. You going to read it, I asked?  You also sang your song aloud. I thought your voice was unlike any other that I had ever heard. I've never heard a song quite like yours.

 Your very first promise in life was, "I will come again."

 It was the first letter you ever sent me, and it said, "I will come on 30th." I sensed that you were waiting for me because just one phrase of yours filled the scene.

You never sent me a letter after that.

 Cherished, It is the last letter I am writing to you today. After then, I won't write at all. Don't assume that I forgot to write you while you listen to my songs. With these hands, I shall simply pen wild melodies and wait for a new dawn to alter the corrupt system. The world system that produces predators and litters needs to be changed. I'll pen a golden love note to you.

 (His publisher asked me to write the introduction for the new Talkhiya edition, which is being printed now that Sahir has departed from this life. I won't discuss the poems that have a place in people's hearts and in history because Sahir's poetry is ingrained in both. Ever since he requested me to write the introduction to his book of poems—which was not addressed to me—I have done so. I am repaying the loan today. It was too late after he departed.

Lord knows, it's too late.

 (Amrita Pritam)