This is certainly the most difficult post I have ever had to write. I was hoping to share happy thoughts - to offer tales of our Cinco de Mayo parties or tell you that AS220 and the Pawtucket Red Sox are now listing on our site. Unfortunately, I have tragic news. I was in Newport yesterday, setting PK from The Landing up with a QuickWhatsUp.com account. He left the room for a moment to check his email and while he was gone, I received an e-mail that said this: “I wish to pass on some bad news: Michael Bhatia was killed in Afghanistan.” For twenty minutes, I managed to push it out of my mind and finish my meeting. As soon as I left The Landing, I fell apart. As the day went on, I talked to other friends and colleagues of Mike’s and gathered more information. Apparently Mike was killed by a roadside bomb in Khost. He was stationed at FOB Salerno and advising the 82nd Airborne Division as part of the Human Terrain program. It was a controversial program and Mike told me he faced some criticism from colleagues for his decision to participate, but ultimately he believed he could do some good. Mike and I were classmates at Brown, but we didn’t know each other well then. He came back to Providence in 2006 to become a visiting professor at the Watson Institute at Brown and we reconnected. If you google Mike, you’ll read a lot about his scholarly work around the world, especially in Afghanistan. Mike was a true academic, but in many ways he was more like Indiana Jones. Mike didn’t sit around and do research. He spent his time in the field: in Kosovo, East Timor, Afghanistan and more. Mike was a genius. He was an Oxford scholar, his book The Gun in Afghanistan was just published and there’s no doubt he knew his stuff when it came to international relations. You can find academics and experts around the globe who will sing his praises. They can do a far better job than I can explaining exactly why Mike’s research was so important. I knew Mike in a far different capacity. To me, he wasn’t an author or a professor or a scholar. To me, he was a friend. For about a year Mike and I hung out on an almost daily basis. Last summer, Mike would come over to my place and we’d drink scotch and play Halo 2 until three in the morning (he’d routinely kick my ass). I would listen to him complain about his job and he’d endure my endless moaning about the trials and tribulations of starting a new company. We would go to the Wickenden Pub with our friend Chris and debate religion or head to the Wild Colonial to commiserate about women. We watched Entourage and Firefly together. Mike was a guy’s guy, a partner in crime. The kind that you could call any day of the week and he’d be down to go out at a moment’s notice. Mike’s hookah is still stashed away beneath my kitchen sink. We used to smoke apple tobacco in it and he asked me to keep it until he returned. I still haven’t been able to figure out how to make it work. I was hoping he’d show me when he returned to visit in July. My thoughts and prayers go out to Mike’s family. More than anything in the world, Mike cared about his little sister Trish. He talked about her all the time and even though he didn’t always approve, he always looked out for her. So as you read about Mike’s academic accomplishments, know he was much more than that. He was also one of the best big brothers I have ever seen. I can’t tell you too much about Mike’s academic work. My eyes glossed over if he started using words that were too big. It’s only now that I wish I had a better understanding of it. But I can tell you that he was a solid human being. “One of the good guys,” as they say. I am very grateful that I had the opportunity to get to know him so well last summer, and I am deeply saddened by the fact that I’ll never have that opportunity again. We’ll miss you, Mike. Thanks for everything. -Seth