New Delhi, March 15 -- There is a certain cadence to the way messages travel in this world. They begin as a whisper of thought, an echo of memory, a ripple in the ever-expanding sea of connection. They are sent out like birds from the soul, little emissaries carrying stories, ideas, musings--seeking a place to land. I have sent thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands over the years, my words making their way across continents, crossing rivers and ranges, arriving on doorsteps in the dead of night or the first blush of morning. And in return, sometimes--sometimes--a reply arrives, a feather falling back into my outstretched palm.

I have been sending these messages since 1993. Back when letters had weight and ink bled into paper, when wor...