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There is a lot written about the loves that were left unfinished in our lifetimes. The could-haves, almosts, might-have-beens – that don’t find a place in the final countdown, and are sometimes romanticised in tints of nostalgia and sometimes relegated to anecdotes in a boozy ‘Never have I ever’ game.

But what about the friendships we leave midway? Like the half-done apartment buildings we see as we cross highways on the outskirts of cities – ghostly structures that must have started with a lot of promise, only to be abandoned as they couldn’t go the distance. Many with strong foundations, forged on shared experiences and affinity, but Life got in the way after a couple of skeleton floors were constructed.

These are not the ones where we parted ways due to a clash of ideologies, or acrimonious fallouts. Rather, the ones which gradually slipped off our horizons and a slow drifting apart, usually perpetuated by changing circumstances. The ones we are reminded of by occasional birthday wishes, or when we unconsciously do an everyday activity in a way that we had picked up from a friend. The friendship faded from active life, but stayed on – for always – in the habits we picked up. It is true then, that the people who touch our lives, often leave something of them in us.

I wonder if physical distance is one the main reasons. It almost seems cliched to let something as mundane as that impact a relationship, especially in the ‘age of technology’. You would think that if anything, it helps you stay more connected – it is much easier to text with a friend in a different place while commuting, rather than making time to meet someone in the same city. The truth is though, except for those few core friendships which run deep in your veins, this doesn’t hold true for the majority. Changing cities or timezones – a reality our generation lives with almost on a daily basis – ends up impacting these delicate relationships which fall in the no-mans land somewhere between a ‘best friend’ and ‘acquaintances’.

As I write this on an unusually wet Spring evening, these friendships run a slow journey through my mind, across different cities and times. Most of them are ones where we are still loosely connected – all of them are ones where we wish each other well. But we don’t borrow each others homework anymore at the last minute after a long exciting day of play; or plan for the next concert and how do we wangle the cheap tickets for it – and whose house will we be staying over the night before; or send frantic emails in the middle of a work day to come rescue us from a monster boss, under the pretext of ‘lunchtime’ – and while we are at it, bitch about the 3rd flatmate who ate up all the coveted strawberries yet again; or the long drives we wangled at the end of shitty <insert appropriate current work or home angst>. And experiences which go deeper than this – where people stepped up when you least expected them to, where you suddenly found a brownie delivery, or an offer to babysit, or a grubby hand in yours when you were low. Friends that supported us, covered for us, taught us, saved us. Especially when we were in new places or experiencing firsts.

These underrated connections, so precious during their shelf-life, that faded into oblivion. Let’s raise a quiet glass to them, without their knowledge and without their presence. Acknowledging the role they played in our lives – in shaping us, in allowing us to be, and in helping us become.