Remembering Om Malik on His 60th Birthday

Yesterday, I had the pleasure of attending what would have been my late friend Om Malik’s 60th birthday celebration. Sadly, Om passed away in June and wasn’t there to celebrate with us, but I got to spend time with his friends and family, reconnect with some of the passions, interests, and people he loved, and meet others who had been touched by him or were getting a glimpse of who Om was.

I had the opportunity to say a few words about Om, and I thought I’d share them here since he was such an important person in my life. I’ll update this post with a link to the video from the day once it’s available to share.

Before I get started, I want to thank everyone who put this day together (OmFest) so we could celebrate Om’s life together on his 60th birthday. It’s an honor to remember such a wonderful man with so many people who loved him.

I loved spending time with Om.

He was full of wonder and curiosity. He had a great sense of humor, excellent taste, fantastic style, and a way of talking about what was going on in the world that left you wanting more.

Conversation always flowed.

I loved sharing things I found interesting with him and trying to excite his imagination. He had this remarkable ability to take complex ideas, connect them to everything else he knew, and explain why something was fascinating, mediocre, or just plain lame.

We came from very different backgrounds but shared so many interests, and I always found that fascinating. I think Om simply wanted to understand what made something special, who made it, why they made it, and how it connected to everything else.

A few years ago, I remember demoing Cursor for Om at his apartment. Initially, he wasn’t particularly interested in getting a lesson in modern software development, but he humored me. Within minutes, it was like watching a kid with a new toy.

I could see him connecting the dots, placing it alongside all these other moments he’d witnessed in the history of technology and the Internet. I got to watch him make sense of it in real time. He lit up. Later he told me he’d stayed up all night playing with it.

Om brought that same patience and curiosity to people.

He really paid attention.

He remembered tiny details, asked meaningful questions, and followed up. When you were with him, he had this ability to make you feel special, like whatever you were connecting about genuinely mattered to him.

I’ve experienced that kind of bond with very few people in my life, and I cherish our friendship.

From the outpouring of love for him, it’s clear Om made a lot of people feel that way.

He was a remarkable observer, and I think he understood the world through people. He wanted to know who they were, what they cared about, and why.

And he turned that attention on himself, too.

At so many of his birthdays, he’d pull out his journal and give us an annual report on the state of Om. He’d tell us what he’d hoped to accomplish that year, score how he’d done, talk about where he’d fallen short and what he wanted to work on next. And then he’d ask us what we thought he should work on.

It was always funny, but also incredibly revealing.

He was genuinely trying to understand himself and become a better version of himself, and he trusted his friends enough to invite us into that process.

Om could also be incredibly fun.

I remember visiting him in 2013 with my buddy Steve when he lived by Dolores Park. We’d ridden Vespas over to his place, and Om casually asked if he could try one.

A moment later, he was flying down the street, no helmet, going the wrong way, talking about how much fun he’d had riding them growing up in Delhi.

I’ve been trying to understand what connected all these things about him. And I think, for me, it’s this:

Om’s attention was a form of love.

So I’d like us to spend a little time together, in silence, remembering that.

Think about something you shared with Om. Something you both loved. A conversation. Something you showed him, or he showed you. A meal, a photograph, a trip, music, writing, pens, watches, clothes, a message. Whatever comes to you.

Remember what it felt like to have his attention.

And when you’re ready, think about someone in your own life to whom you can give a little more of that attention. Someone you can be more curious about. Someone you can listen to a little more closely. Someone whose excitement you can share.

Think about one small way you can put that kind of love back into the world.

Let’s take a moment of silence to remember him together.

[silence]

I hope we can carry a little of Om’s curiosity with us.

Keep noticing extraordinary things. Share them with each other. Ask questions. Pay attention.

And when someone we love is excited to show us something, give them what Om gave so generously to so many of us:

• Attention.
• Curiosity.
• And love.

Thank you.