Of Friends and Friendship

“A true friend laughs at your stories even when they're not so good, and sympathizes with your troubles even when they're not so bad”…how true, I thought to myself when I first came across this proverb. Indeed, a true friend is one who makes you feel important and cherished. I have always been very picky about choosing friends- even when I was younger and more reckless and very extroverted. There were hoards of people I could get along with and have fun with but the word “friend” has always meant something more to me. It does not merely include people with whom I can gel and be social, with whom I can banter and play pranks.

Friendship is sacred to me…I can count the number of true friends I have on my fingertips. It may sound strange, but to me friendship is a serious affair. It obliges me to be loyal and forgiving and generous. Physical distance or long gaps in correspondence do not matter. I can pick up a strand of conversation or thought from where I had left off, even if it were a decade ago. Friendship is belonging, not in part but as a whole, giving not by half measures but unconditionally.  Being friends is to be in sync with somebody profoundly where spoken language may  not be the only way to communicate. You don’t necessarily need to have common goals, ideologies or shared beliefs to be good friends. Social standing, gender or age differences do not matter in the least. Mutual respect, trust and positivity are the key elements of friendship.

On a lighter vein, I remember my first ever “best friend” was Sanghamitra…she and I used to go to the same school. We were in class I and could hardly have been six years old. She and I were, unfortunately, not in the same section and we could only meet and play together during recess and after school got over. However, there was deep bonding between us and we used to laugh and chat over funny stories and shared our tiffin religiously. The curious thing was that we were diametrically opposite in temperament. I was a tomboy and she was a dainty lady (at six!) She had an endless stock of bizarre stories, but I found her stories fascinating…most of them were probably made up, I now realize…nonetheless, they used to enthral me. Sometimes when I got back home and narrated them to my Mum she would smile kindly and say…'who knows there may be some truth in it, strange things do happen to people…' My brothers would guffaw and ridicule me for believing her tales. Here is one that brought about the most snorts- and that made me hopping mad, I can tell you!

This happened so many years ago that my memory may have dimmed out minor details, however here is the story as I remember it…Sanghamitra and her family were great devotees of Satya Sai Baba…she was almost fanatical in her faith in him…and this is a story that she was particularly fond of narrating. Every morning she used to do puja and pray in front of a large framed picture of Sai Baba. One day after she had been praying very fervently she opened her eyes to see that the Babaji was weeping tears of honey at her devotion and that the tears were rolling down the picture!!! Imagine the thrill of polishing honey off from the face of a glass framed picture- prasad that God had sent directly for you…wasn’t that awesome?! There also used to be a regular supply of vibhuti that she collected from the picture and smeared on her forehead. She would sometimes bring some for me too and I would very reverently put a tika on my forehead and feel very important!

Another favourite tale of hers goes something like this… once her father had been attacked by some dacoits when her parents were travelling in some remote part of the country. Apparently as the wicked man lifted the sword to strike her father her mother started to pray to Sai Baba and the dacoit sort of froze with his arm raised in mid-air and they could make a hasty escape! These and many  such stories filled me with utmost devotion towards Sai Baba, but at six I didn’t have enough autonomy to renounce worldly life and become the Baba’s eternal disciple. Now, several decades later, I smile when I remember how staunch I was in my support of my friend… how much I trusted her and her fantastic stories and would even fight like a fiend with anyone who made fun of her. She lived in a lovely house and we spent several happy hours playing whilst our mothers chatted about various things. Little did they know that their little girls were planning to give even Mira Bai a run for her money when it came to devotion and bhakti!