Some time ago, at a gathering with friends from our university days, the age-old question came up again: What is friendship? One friend of ours said that friendship means someone to whom you confide everything -- without any concealment. Another said that friendship means spending an entire day together talking, yet feeling that the conversation is still unfinished and must continue the next day. A third friend said that friendship is a shoulder you can lean on and a hand you can hold.
One argumentative and somewhat cynical friend of ours remarked that all of those definitions of friendship belong to adolescence or youth. Now, in the twilight of our lives, do we still have that kind of feeling? As he spoke, my mind wandered. I remembered a long-time friend, with whom my companionship had lasted 50 years, from the very beginning of our university life. Back then, our conversations had no boundaries. We talked endlessly about many things for hours.
Then both of us became busy with our professional lives and our families. We no longer met every day; we met only occasionally. Sometimes face to face, sometimes through distant conversations, we kept in touch. Our discussions no longer returned to the topics of youth. The subjects gradually turned toward professional hopes and frustrations, and toward the education of our children.
With the passing of time, the shadows of our conversations shifted elsewhere. They remained fixed on stories of our children’s successes and failures, and on our own health. Then, almost inevitably, one day our discussions began to revolve around who among us was ill, whose health had declined, and who had passed away.
I realized how, along with life’s changes, my conversations with this friend of half a century had also changed. It felt like completing a full circle -- returning to a place where the main subject of conversation was departure itself. Some time ago, after saying everything that needed to be said, he too departed.
I returned to awareness when our philosophical friend quoted the timeless words of Chanakya: “The one who stays beside you in festivals, in danger, in famine, in battle with enemies, in the king’s court, and at the cremation ground -- that person is your true friend.”
Perhaps so. But I have always felt that friendship is about spending time together -- about companionship, joy, and closeness. What we carry in our hearts are the golden memories of that companionship, joy, and closeness -- everything else becomes insignificant. The time of love, the time of affection, the time of storytelling, the time of sitting together, the time of reliance, the time of conversation -- these are the true foundations of a friendship.
A friend asks only for time to share his or her own story, to hear stories of the other side, and to share both sorrow and joy. Yet we often forget this truth. In today’s world, we hardly give our friends even the time to sit face-to-face. Absorbed in our own self-centredness and personal interests, we remain busy with ourselves. Thus, the bonds of friendship loosen, their colours fade.
Once upon a time, the spirit of friendship and empathy was very strong. We still tell stories of those times. Within families there existed a powerful bond of compassion, binding people together with love, affection, and care. In extended families this unity spread from one generation to another. Were there quarrels or disagreements? Of course, there were. But they could not destroy the human bond of empathy. At the end of the day people returned to that familial harmony -- through laughter and joy, through sorrow and hardship, through danger and distress. Family was the greatest shield of protection for people.
Over time, two kinds of relationships developed in society: One human, the other transactional. The human relationship was one of friendship and goodwill; the transactional one concerned work. The spiritual relationship was about compassion and humanity; the transactional one about money and self-interest. In business relationships there were discussions of profit and loss, disputes over shares and fractions and meticulous calculations.
Yet ultimately, above all these things, friendship always stood as the greater truth in society. Because of these spiritual relationships, we became one another’s kin. Without hesitation, we addressed elders as “uncle,” “aunty,” “elder brother,” or “sister.” Through these forms of salutations, we created bonds of kinship that sometimes surpassed even blood relations. In the same way, we embraced younger people with love and affection.
In neighbourhoods and local communities, the foundation of human relations was this very spiritual bond. If we were hungry, we could sit and eat in any house in the neighbourhood. If wrongdoing occurred, any elder could discipline any youngster. And if trouble came to the community, everyone would rush together to face it.
Our sources of affection were spread everywhere. After school, if we returned home at four in the afternoon instead of two, my mother might not have served the meal -- it might have been served by Rahimon Bua. If I came home in heavy rain shouting and laughing, Ashwini uncle might have seen us from his shop and held an umbrella over my head. As the rain poured down, his scolding flowed like a stream as well. When I reached home not a drop of rain had touched me, though the entire body of Ashwini the carpenter - who suffered from asthma - was drenched.
During the secondary school exams, Nitai Master from the neighbourhood would regularly come every afternoon to tutor Palash, who was weak in mathematics. No one had asked him to do this. When Nazma Apa’s mother fell seriously ill, food arrived regularly from different homes. We took turns staying awake at night; and leaving aside all his other work, the doctor uncle from the corner clinic stayed by her bedside for three days. When Shishir’s sister Kona was getting married, everyone in the neighbourhood worked together to prepare for the wedding. It was impossible to tell who Kona’s brother was, who her uncle was, and who her aunt.
These relationships of affection, friendship, empathy, and shared responsibility were unconditional. There was no concern of profit or loss, no calculation of debts or dues, no self-interest. The foundations of those relationships were spontaneous humanity, mutual love, and deep unity.
Were there no inequality or disparity in society then? Were there no divisions based on social status or religion? Certainly, there were. But there was no brazen display of wealth, no dazzling arrogance of status, no frenzy of religion. In human relationships, humanity itself rose above all.
Today, transactional relationships between people -- inside and outside society - have become primal, while our human relationships have become secondary. We are retreating into ourselves, forming small circles of a few people whom we may need for our own interests. We think this will bring us prosperity, nourishment, and security. But in doing so, society has become deeply fragmented and divided. Instead of friendship there is conflict; instead of love there is violence; instead of compassion there is brutality. These have become the language and culture of our times.
Conflict and violence have now become terrifying features of the global order.One country massacres people in another, one nation seeks to occupy another. Millions of people are now homeless and stateless. Friendly relations among nations and the idea of a global brotherhood now seem like mere words. World peace appears an illusion.
Yet I still hope. I still hope in humanity, in friendship; in brotherhood and goodwill; in stability and peace. I want to say: “The helping hand is still here; would you hold it?”
Selim Jahan is Former Director, Human Development Report Office and Poverty Division, United Nations Development Program, New York, USA.