Some Friendships Become Family. These Two Did.

I met two wonderful women in 2004. We were colleagues then, going about our lives, working together and getting to know each other. Little did I know that two people I had met at work would go on to become two of my closest friends and, eventually, family.

I don’t think I ever quite understood that a man and a woman could share a friendship of this depth. Not because I believed it was impossible, but perhaps because I had never experienced it quite like this.

Their first significant influence on my life was getting me to quit smoking. They didn’t lecture me, impose anything on me or make a big deal out of it. They simply encouraged me. Somewhere along the way, I quit, and I never went back. I have been a non-smoker ever since. Looking back, I find it rather wonderful that two friendships that would go on to mean so much to me began by changing something about me for the better.

But that was only the beginning.

Over time, they became so much more than friends. They never really treated me as a guy who happened to be their friend. I was simply one of them. I was part of their conversations, their girl talks, their little circles, and all those wonderfully candid discussions that I probably wouldn’t have imagined myself being privy to.

They trusted me with their thoughts, their vulnerabilities, their opinions and the little things that women discuss among themselves. And I found myself having a front-row seat to a world I might otherwise never have experienced.

I learnt a great deal from them. About women, about relationships, about emotions, about listening, and perhaps most importantly, about understanding and respecting women without making it some grand exercise in being a gentleman.

There is a difference between knowing about women and actually growing up around women who trust you enough to let you into their world. I was fortunate enough to experience the latter.

And goodness, did we have fun!

We partied, travelled, hung out, laughed endlessly and accumulated memories that, even today, bring a smile to my face.

They were also my most enthusiastic cheerleaders. Whether I won a cricket match or lost one, they were there, cheering me on. They would turn up with our colleagues, watch us play and shout their lungs out. I don’t know whether their cheering improved my performance, but it certainly made me feel like a champion, even on days when the scoreboard suggested otherwise!

We had our own little sporting tribe, our adventures and our share of madness. They learnt to ride bikes with me, and those were some wonderfully entertaining times too.

And if I were to describe the three of us, I would say Manju was always the protector, the one who looked out for everyone. Arathi was the monkey of the lot, bringing her own brand of mischief and energy. And I was the slow runner, trying to keep up with the pack!

I still smile thinking about those days. There was something wonderfully uncomplicated about being together. We were not trying to create memories; we were simply living our lives, and the memories happened.

Of course, ours wasn’t a friendship without its ups and downs. We had our moments, disagreements and phases when life pulled us in different directions. There were times we were separated, times we found our way back to each other, and brief periods when we weren’t as connected as we would have liked.

But something about us always remained.

Whenever we came together again, it was almost as though we picked up exactly where we had left off, except that we returned with even more affection and a stronger sense of belonging. We had each other’s backs. Through the good times and the difficult ones, we stood by one another. We were there through thick and thin, and that is something I value more than I can put into words.

Some friendships don’t need constant communication to survive. They have a foundation strong enough to withstand distance, silence, changing circumstances and the passage of time. Ours has been one of those.

And somewhere along the way, I became part of their families too.

Their introduction of me to their families was never a formal affair. I was simply brought along, included, welcomed and eventually became a familiar face at family gatherings and celebrations. I wasn’t just their colleague or their friend anymore. I was someone their families knew, someone who belonged there.

Their children have grown up seeing this friendship as a part of their mothers’ lives. I can only assume that, to them, the three of us being friends is simply normal. And I rather like that thought. Perhaps they will grow up understanding that men and women can share beautiful, lasting friendships without having to explain them to anyone.

There is another little thing I have noticed and deeply appreciate. Whenever I am around, they make it a point to give me their time and attention. They make me feel included and important, even with all the other responsibilities and people in their lives. They have never made me feel like someone from their past who occasionally drops in. And I love them for that.

Then life happened, as it always does.

One after the other, they got married. They entered different phases of life, became wives, daughters-in-law and eventually built their own families. Naturally, life became busier, responsibilities changed and priorities evolved.

But here is the part that I find particularly beautiful.

They never allowed marriage, new families or the changing circumstances of life to take away their friendship. They continued to hold on to what they had built, and somehow, I continued to be part of it all.

I was still invited to family functions. I was still welcomed into their homes. I remained part of their lives, and they remained part of mine.

I have always found this rather extraordinary. We often talk about how relationships change after marriage, how friendships take a back seat and how people slowly drift apart as life takes them in different directions. And yet, here were two people who demonstrated that it needn’t always be that way.

You can enter a new family without abandoning the people who were your family long before that. You can take on new relationships without diminishing the old ones. You can grow, change and move forward without leaving behind the people who helped shape who you are.

That, to me, is a rather beautiful thing.

And now, both of them have moved to London. As luck would have it, they live fairly close to each other. So when they are together, they make it a point to call me. Sometimes it is a group call, sometimes a casual conversation, but it is almost as though the years and the miles haven’t changed a thing.

There is something incredibly comforting about being remembered and included in someone’s everyday life, even when you are thousands of kilometres away.

I sometimes wonder whether they realise how much these little things mean to me.

I have had the privilege of experiencing a kind of friendship that has taught me things no book could have. It has shown me that friendship between a man and a woman need not carry an explanation, an expectation or an ulterior motive. It can simply be friendship, in its purest and most uncomplicated form.

And perhaps that is what makes these friendships so rare.

We live in a world that is often quick to attach labels to relationships. A man and a woman being close inevitably invites questions, assumptions and interpretations. But sometimes, people are just people who have found a beautiful connection with each other. Nothing more needs to be explained.

I am a richer person for having had these two in my life. They helped me give up a habit, opened up a world I hadn’t known, taught me to see things differently and gave me memories that I will carry for the rest of my life.

But above everything else, they gave me a sense of belonging to a world that wasn’t originally mine.

Twenty-two years have passed since we first met. We are no longer those young colleagues from 2004, and life has taken each of us through its own journeys. We have changed, grown, stumbled, celebrated and found our own paths. Yet, somewhere between all those years, marriages, family gatherings, cricket matches, travels, conversations and countless memories, something rather wonderful has survived.

Two friendships. One extended family. And a lifetime of memories.

I don’t know whether I have ever told them just how precious this is to me. Perhaps some things are better expressed through the little things we continue to do for each other and I hope they know that I feel incredibly fortunate.

I hope Manju knows that her protective instinct has always meant more than she probably realises. I hope Arathi never loses that mischievousness in her. And I hope they both know that their slow-running friend, who was always trying to keep up with the pack, has cherished every bit of this journey.

There are friendships we make, friendships we maintain, and then there are those rare ones that quietly become a part of who we are.

These two are that for me.

And some of the most beautiful relationships in life are the ones that never needed to become anything else to mean everything.