Friendship has never been a single story for me. It has been a series of chapters, each leaving behind people who shaped me in ways they probably never realised.

When I think of childhood, I think of four little children racing through the Ganga Vihar compound in Bandra, running along the roads, playing in Guru Nanak Park, convinced that summer holidays would last forever. There was Irshad, Sarvar, Satish and me. We lived in a world where scraped knees healed quickly, laughter came easily, and tomorrow was never something we worried about. I still remember the view of the TV tower in Worli, from Sarvar’s 5th floor balcony. I was in awe of the height and the distance. Childhood is fantastical and so are the friends we make then. 

I reconnected with Irshad several years later in my 30’s. When I told him I was gay, he stopped responding. 

I think of Virginia too.

She taught me about Christmas long before I understood what festivals truly meant. She filled my childhood with warmth, kindness, joy and the wonders of make-up. Life, as it often does, carried us in different directions when I left Bandra in 1987. We found each other again in 2014 after decades of silence, and it felt as though no time had passed at all. 

A few years later, she passed away. Some people leave your life twice—once through distance, and once forever. I still think of her and each time the thought fills my heart.

Then there were my school friends from St Teresa’s—Shameem, Amit, Bipin, and so many familiar faces who remind me that childhood often feels like living inside a Famous Five adventure: carefree, uncomplicated and wonderfully ordinary.

Life, however, has a way of changing its script.

When my parents separated and my mother and I moved to Versova, I entered a world where I was the new boy. I was different. I was effeminate. I was bullied, mocked and often left out. Between the ages of thirteen and sixteen, friendship became something I watched from a distance rather than experienced. Those were lonely years, but they also taught me resilience and turned me into an avid reader and film buff. 

College changed everything.

At seventeen, I met Poonam.

For over three decades she was my closest friend. We grew up together. We celebrated victories, survived disappointments, argued, laughed and became part of each other’s families in every way except by blood.

Not every great friendship ends in betrayal. Sometimes it ends because two people, despite loving each other deeply, can no longer walk the same path.

As I stood on the threshold of turning fifty, we chose to part ways. It was painful, but it was peaceful. I miss her even today. I love her still, and I think of her ever so often.

But that friendship taught me one of the greatest lessons of my life: love should never come at the cost of self-respect.

Trust matters. Respect matters. Admiration matters. And no friendship, however precious, should require you to abandon yourself.

My queer journey introduced me to another extraordinary circle of friends. People like Umang, Bhavesh, Deepak, Shagoon and Dinesh helped me navigate life in my twenties. They listened, challenged me, encouraged me and stood beside me through struggles that only another queer person could fully understand.

It was also through this community that I found someone I think of as my mentor—someone who has become more of an elder brother than a friend. One of the greatest gifts he gave me was showing me that disagreement does not have to destroy affection. Two people can hold opposing views, argue passionately and still respect each other deeply. That is a rare quality, and one I treasure.

Perhaps that’s why I’ve come to realise that friendship is wonderfully malleable.

Some friends remain friends.

Some quietly become family.

My friend Christina, for instance, stopped being “just a friend” long ago. She is my sister in every way that matters. Relationships evolve. Labels become less important than love.

Friendship changes because we change.

It asks us to grow, to forgive, to learn, to unlearn and sometimes to let go.

Like every living thing, it has to be nurtured from both sides. It cannot survive on one person’s effort alone. It requires generosity, honesty, vulnerability and the willingness to listen even when listening is uncomfortable.

Without friends, I genuinely believe we become smaller versions of ourselves.

Friends help us evolve. They hold up mirrors when we cannot see ourselves clearly. They celebrate our successes without envy and steady us when life knocks us down. They question our decisions, not because they wish to control us, but because they care enough to make us think.

The final choice is always ours, but good friends make us wiser before we make it.

As I’ve grown older, another truth has become impossible to ignore.

Shared values matter.

Perhaps more than they once did.

In recent years, politics has tested many of my friendships. I have lost people I cared about because we could no longer reconcile our understanding of justice, compassion and humanity. I don’t believe every disagreement should end a friendship. Healthy debate is essential. Different opinions can coexist.

But there comes a point where the disagreement is no longer about policy or politics. It becomes about fundamental values.

There are crossroads in life where you must choose between preserving a friendship and preserving your core values.

Whenever I’ve reached those crossroads, I’ve chosen the latter.

Not because friendship isn’t important.

But because friendship without mutual respect, empathy and integrity eventually becomes something else entirely.

On this Friendship’s Day, I find myself grateful for every person who has walked beside me—whether for a few years or for decades. Every friendship has left its imprint. Every goodbye has taught me something. Every hello has changed me in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

If life has taught me anything, it is this:

Friends are not merely companions for the journey.

They are the people who quietly become part of who we are.

And even when some of them leave, they never truly stop walking with us.