Reflections on Friendship and Loss

“Tumne hame Ronit samajh ke rakha hai kya?”

These words echo round and round Sagar’s mind as he alights flights of stairs down from the Andheri metro station to catch a BEST bus in order to reach home at the least expense possible. Each syllable of that nonchalantly muttered statement screeches like nails on a chalkboard in Sagar’s mind. It is true, after all, what was said. They’re no Ronit, and it turns out that there cannot be any Ronits except the real one. What a tragedy!

“Chala chala pudhe chala, aat madhe gardi karu naka”, a done-with-the-day kind of employee at 630 PM climbs onto the already jam-packed bus by trying to verbally usher people in a bid to create enough space for himself. Sagar follows closely, because inadvertently the man is going to create space for at least 3-4 people through his supposedly selfish act. In this city, as such, a person only requires a single square inch of legroom to board a bus. Human life comes cheap in cities where human life is found in great abundance. Is this a brutal version of economics’ supply-and-demand curve?

He got into the bus, in half-a-square-inch of space, but he got in. What if Ronit was here to help? He would surely have suggested they take another bus, or he would know the best stop to board the best BEST bus that would take them home. It would be irrespective of the fact that Ronit lives 4 kilometres farther from Sagar and would most-likely have to change buses after the latter’s house. You see, there is only one bus that follows the route on which both their houses lie. Ronit’s lucky day used to be when they boarded that very bus. But he used to avoid doing so. He really loved dropping off with Sagar at his bus stop, walking along the 4-minute path that led to the apartment complex where Sagar stays, then walk back alone for 4 minutes reveling in elation because of the traction he had in the interaction with Sagar, wait for a few minutes for the other route’s bus to show up and then go home. An extra detour of around 20 minutes or so everyday in the city of hustler’s dreams where each second is apparently worth thousands of ₹. That’s how Ronit was like.

He would appear within minutes at any hour of the day if he was at his home at just a singular insistent syllable from Sagar. He sometimes joked about having Doraemon’s teleportation door, sometimes about having gained The Flash’s power due to Mumbai Monsoons, sometimes about how the rat who bit him last night turned out to be Speedy Gonsalves so now he has super speed, and so on and so on. Sagar’s flatmates awaited Ronit’s arrival because he would say something new about his super-speediness each time he came. And he never came empty-handed. There would always be a small toffee, or a chocolate, or random mussed flowers he picked up on the street because they looked cute, or just a pebble, as an offering for Sagar. There was a drawer on his table where he used to dump each of these artefacts and never used them or even mentioned them again. This was Sagar’s brutal version of economics’ supply-and-demand curve.

“Kuthe?” The conductor looks at Sagar with an inquisitive expression. He is supposed to answer where he is headed to and pay for the ticket. He complies. Ronit used to be quite savvy at this as well. He would have the BEST buses’ Chalo app ready for paying the conductor as soon as the conductor appeared near them without him having to ask for the ticket. Ronit believed that this would make the conductor’s task a wee bit more relaxing because now they have to talk to two less people among ~500 who will board and deboard throughout the route. His phone was not very savvy though, strangely, and he had to switch on bluetooth every time he paid using the Chalo app. He would discomfort himself to provide an equal amount of comfort to a conductor. That’s how Ronit was like.

Glass shards pressing into wounds created a few hours ago by a simple “tumne hame Ronit samajh ke rakha hai kya” prompt a sudden feeling of dizziness as the memories rush in. They were right though, and he knew it. He was trying to pitch an interesting idea to the startup he and two of his friends have founded recently. Along the journey of around four months, he has reached the conclusion that he does not have a natural acumen for building a company, unlike his two friends, who seem to gel naturally well with finding the foundations of the company. Sagar has to work harder than them to keep up. Sometimes he is unable to do so. He has these phases of low productivity which last for weeks and then he has opposite phases of high productivity which last for days. He tends to overwork and produce quality stuff on the good days, and is unable to work hence produces mediocre stuff on the bad days. This inconsistency is a key reason for him getting frequently laid-off. Oh, this and his short temper. Criticism and scalding scoldings are bound to abound on the bad days, which he tries to prepare himself for, but loses his temper nonetheless and creates problems for himself. Thankfully, this new startup stint is with friends and hence he is not being served avenues to be angry, something which he admires, loves, and vocally appreciates about his co-founder friends. On the other hand though, friends sometimes jokingly, without meaning it, cross a line that might be sensitive for the person it is targeted at. Such was the case with today’s quip regarding Ronit. Sagar’s idea, which he presented to the board, might be a tad unrealistic but was quite promising. A small risk was all he asked and the idea did promise huge gains in return if it became successful. The losses were also not significantly high for its failure. But the risk was a slight remodeling of the brand image they have been working for months to develop a certain way. The team would require a few additional weeks to adjust and republicise the tweaked idea and to gain the market’s trust over it. It could be done, but they are no Ronit to sign a blindsided agreement for every legitimate aspiration Sagar conjures. If Ronit was a co-founder here, then he would have worked extra hours everyday with Sagar to ensure that the mini-transition is smooth and the team does not get too much of the extra load.

But he is not.

For one, Ronit is not the entrepreneurial type. He would never go into building a company from scratch. He would rather continue doing whatever he used to do - odd jobs and freelancing - to make enough money to get by. But if he would have been, then he definitely would have put it all in for Sagar, his best friend. Ex-best friend now, apparently.

The bus stops at the bus stop where Sagar has to get off, as if on cue. He climbs down. The bus moves forward. He can see a lone person standing at the back gate now (the throng of people has gotten off at the previous local train station’s bus stop). This was exactly how he had seen Ronit the last time, at this very place, when he had told Ronit that he never wants to see him again or talk to him again. He never did. Ronit tried his best, he turned up at the house, but Sagar never opened his room’s door as long as Ronit was being entertained by the flatmates. Sagar had requested some space, so Ronit tried to give some, but he couldn’t resist shooting a text or sharing a sentimental instagram reel twice every week. Each of these triggered Sagar every time he received a notification and his resolve to never meet again grew stronger with each passing week. Ronit would sometimes reach Sagar’s bus stop early and wait for him there, so Sagar would keep his headphones on all the times during transit, especially from the bus stop to his way home. Ronit does not like to create a public scene, so he always relented after trying to walk a few steps in silence, after which Sagar heaved a sigh of relief. He walks home alone today, without Ronit pestering him, but he wants him to turn up. He has been wanting that for a few days now.

This sequence of events continued for months after the “break-up”. Ronit termed it as a “friends break-up, or fbu”, because he had been more invested in this relationship than with two of his exes, it seems. It did impact him a lot. Sagar had heard a story about an overdosing on antidepressants, and a couple of scares about jumpscares in their friend circle, but nothing that was out of the ordinary for Ronit to do. Sagar knew that this fbu will impact Ronit in exactly this way. He lay in the autism spectrum in such a sense that his wish-for-death was too strong and all encompassing, and to try to live was a battle he fought everyday, and sometimes all day everyday. Post fbu, he would feel like he’s drowning each and every microsecond and every minute felt like multiple lifetimes have elapsed. Sagar has lost count as to how many months it took Ronit to get back to his job or become normal again.

four months into the fbu, Sagar had apologised and said it was harsh of him to cut Ronit off so severely, and that he’d now be replying to stuff sent to him henceforth. Ronit said “it’s okay”, but he was quite elated it seems. He was that argumentative, antithetical, pathetic, people-pleasy, Taylor Swift lyric adorer, Sylvia Plath worshipper kind of a person that would hold on to even the slightest iota of hope that things can go back to normal. But they were not going to. Sagar used to respond, but only in “haha” and “lol” and one-sentence replies that would organically end the conversation. Ronit, after a few months, got tired and lost this particular hope as well, it seems. The gap between his messages increased from 1 day to 1 week to 2 months to never. Sagar was finally free from even the fragrances of friendship that fostered before he forcibly festered the fellowship. Sagar has reached his apartment building. It has been 4 minutes of him walking while wondering about all of this.

The security guard at the gate notices Sagar entering the compound. He does not bat an eye or lift a finger. He used to smile from ear to ear on seeing Ronit though. That man had this aura of cheeriness around him, even when his inner demons were gnawing at his mind the entire time, trying to sink him into the depths of depressing hell. The security guard had noticed the tiff between Ronit and Sagar, of course. Who knows how much he knows about the details. Ronit’s friendliness with everyone and his broadcast-y gossipy nature meant that their fbu would have been the talk of the entire compound within 4 weeks of it occurring. But why did it occur? Everyone had their theories, no one knew for sure. It seems that Ronit wanted more importance in Sagar’s life. Sagar treated all his friends the same way while Ronit completely doted on him. He would scratch his head till he goes to sleep at times and bring in substances for them to abuse together, only the legal ones, and co-watch anime episodes with Sagar, enjoying even without knowing the context. Sagar never asked for this, he did playfully tell Ronit, maybe four times, that he should not get so attached to him. But Ronit quoted something about Aladdin and Jasmine and a leap of faith and that everything will eventually fall into place. But, what eventually happened was that the lack of special attention to Ronit made all his moments melancholy as he tried to cling on desperately while Sagar scraped his essences off brutally and ruthlessly. It led to a few tiffs, spats and outright fights. Sagar hated that he is unable to mold himself the way Ronit wants him to, for lack of effort, true, but a better option might be to completely sever all ties - a few days/weeks of heartbreak later at least Ronit will be happier as their is no constant lack of appreciation for his antics, and Sagar would be left alone in his world, being completely himself.

“Sup”, a flatmate shoots a rhetoric on seeing Sagar enter. He does not want an answer, it is a sort of pleasantry they exchange. This is usual, unlike the exuberant display of happiness and hugging that ensued Ronit’s ecstatic HIIIIs. It has been a few days, or months, probably four, since he has been missing Ronit. But it is too late to do anything. Four years have passed and Ronit is in a different town now. He shifted cities a few months after the fbu, and a few days after recovering from his second overdose incident. But he must be in a happy place, or at least, he would not be saddened by Sagar’s behavior. But since a few weeks Sagar feels like he actually can change, a bit, to accommodate a few people who might be important, and that it might be worth it in the end. He wishes that he came across this very wisdom four years ago. He sits on his work desk with his head in his hands. The ghosts of his failed relationships and friendships lost left and right throughout these four years dance around his mind. Is he now doomed by his bad karma to never find a human who fits exactly right like Ronit once did? Did his previous good karma pull in a soulmate-y friend through the invisible string which Sagar fought with the entire universe to thoroughly unstitch? Will he never get a chance on this again? Ronit would have wished for Sagar to get this chance again and again, even with tons and tons of heaviness and resentment in his heart, for it seems that he really wanted him to be just happy and content. But will nature listen to his pleas? Maybe the forces of nature are upset at Sagar, as they rightfully should be. Ah. Four minutes of agony pass and Sagar decides to distract his mind from this debacle of a debate. He opens his drawer. There still lie four fairy light pieces from the string that Ronit had helped Sagar put up at 3 AM on a day when Sagar was too sad to function. The string had long broken and been thrown away, but some bulbs lay strewn around here and there like slivers of memories remain even after one thoroughly tries to forget the entire ordeal.

How innocent. These four fairy light bulbs. Sagar falls to the floor.