A quiet defence of paper, in a business made of screens.
Every quarter we send a physical letter to every member across Delhi and beyond. Cotton stock, one folded page, a stamp. It costs more than it should. It takes weeks to write. It is, on almost every metric a modern operator would care about, indefensible.
It is also read almost universally. Members open it. They keep it. They put it on the shelf next to the last one. Nobody puts an email on a shelf.
The point of the letter isn't the letter. It's the small act of choosing, four times a year, to send something you have to hold. That gesture — of slowing down long enough to make one nice thing — is most of what the membership is, distilled into an envelope.
We'll probably stop, one day. Not yet.
Filed by the desk. Quibbles to hello@baaaz.club.
