When I read a good morning message this morning about Friendship, I was reminded of the good old days—when life was simpler. We had fewer amenities, the world was less advanced technologically, but somehow, we had all the time in the world. There seemed to be no dearth of time back then.
People mostly travelled by train in those days, and we never missed a chance to either receive or see them off at the railway station. We communicated through handwritten letters, and if we heard a friend was arriving or even just passing through a nearby station, we’d rush to see them—always carrying some homemade food to ease their journey. The joy of meeting old friends was unmatched. We hugged, laughed at silly jokes, and waved from the platform until the train disappeared from sight.
How did we find time then—when public transport was sparse and resources were limited—to connect with our loved ones so effortlessly? And now, when we have better roads, more buses and trains, and even our own vehicles, we somehow don’t have time to meet our friends and relatives. It makes me wonder—was the Earth completing its rotation in 48 hours back then, and only 12 now?
There’s more to this shift. When we were kids, and our parents did all the cooking, it was a joy to invite friends home during festivals and offer them the special sweets and snacks lovingly made by our mothers. Our moms never seemed tired, even with the extra cooking—serving guests happily, taking pride in their homemade delicacies.
But now that we are grown up, doing our own cooking, with families of our own, the thought of inviting friends or relatives over rarely crosses our minds. And even if it does, it often comes with reluctance. The affluent throw parties, yes—but everything is outsourced. Event managers handle the arrangements, and food and drinks come from outside. There’s hardly any personal touch, any warmth in the preparations. Often, such gatherings are more about appearances, or driven by hidden agendas.
Slowly, the social fabric is falling apart. There was a time when an entire village felt like one big family. Everyone knew each other—sometimes helping out, sometimes quarrelling—but always deeply connected, just like in a close-knit family.
Now, extended families have faded into near oblivion. In their place, nuclear families—just the husband, wife, and their children—have become the norm. These small family units often cannot tolerate the presence of any other member—be it a friend, relative, or even a parent—within their tightly controlled world. Wherever they go, whatever they do, it revolves solely around these three or four individuals.
At first glance, this kind of closeness appears ideal. But beneath the surface, there’s a concerning lack of resilience. These families, cocooned from the outside world, remain untested by life’s challenges. When faced with adversity, they struggle to adapt or adjust, having never been exposed to discomfort or differing perspectives.
And now, I see even this nuclear family structure beginning to crumble. We are entering an era of extreme individualism, where people seem to care for no one beyond themselves. The sense of community is disappearing, and with it, the empathy and connection that once gave life its meaning.
I recently came across an article aptly titled “The Friendship Recession.”
What was once a concern largely confined to developed nations like America has now silently crept into Indian society as well. And mark my words—it’s no less dreadful than a pandemic.
This quiet epidemic threatens to steal away one of life’s greatest blessings: meaningful, soul-nourishing companionship.
Spending quality time with friends has now become a luxury—affordable only to a few sensitive and sensible souls.
We rarely hear people talk about their “best friends” or “close friends” anymore. Increasingly, individuals are choosing to live alone, eat alone, and sleep alone. They prefer the company of AI robots or pets over real human beings. Why? Because it’s easier. No conflicts, no compromises, no emotional labour.
But these trends hint at something far deeper—and far more dangerous: a cultural crisis.
The very idea of togetherness is dying a slow death.
Time for friends is now seen not as a necessity, but a luxury. It’s no longer a priority.
Who we invest in, how we spend our time—everything is shifting.
Solitude, once a conscious choice, is becoming the default.
And the more connected we get through Wi-Fi, the more disconnected we become from real life.
Virtual interactions seem to offer enough… until they don’t.
And by then, our ability to forge real bonds—friendships that are resilient and rich—has quietly eroded.
If we don’t consciously reset our priorities and relearn the art of nurturing meaningful relationships, we risk stepping into a future where connection—our most vital source of joy and well-being—fades into the background noise of our lives.
This change is all the more tragic because scientific research and human experience repeatedly affirm how vital friendships are.
And yet, friendship has become something we “fit in” at the very end of our to-do lists—if at all.
In her bestselling memoir “The Top Five Regrets of the Dying,” palliative nurse Bronnie Ware lists a poignant truth:
“I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.”
Science backs this up: social isolation is linked to higher risks of heart disease, dementia, and premature death—on par with smoking 15 cigarettes a day.
On the other hand, friendship improves mental, emotional, and physical well-being.
Friendship, like any meaningful investment, takes time to compound.
It’s not built overnight—it requires energy, intention, and most of all, our presence.
What’s even more disheartening is that this isn’t a trend confined to Gen Z or Gen Alpha alone.
Even those who grew up in the warmth of community—Boomers, Gen X, and Millennials—have slowly boarded this bandwagon of disconnection.
They too now prefer the curated comfort of virtual interactions over the beautiful chaos of real relationships.
Echoes of a once-connected past are fading from all generations, not just the young.
So, before we forget how to be friends—before staying in touch becomes a dying art—make that call.
Apologize if you must.
Make time.
Take the trip.
Send the gift.
Create the memory….
And as the great Mirza Ghalib once wrote:
“दोस्तों के साथ जी लेने का
मौका दे दे ऐ खुदा…
तेरे साथ तो मरने के बाद भी
रह लेंगे…“
Give us the chance, O Lord, to live with our friends…
We’ll be with You anyway, after we die.
Be a friend.
Stay blessed.
Stay connected.