Celebrating Friendship Day: The Bond That Makes Life Beautiful
Friendship Day is more than just a date on the calendar—it's a reminder of the priceless gift of having people in our lives who understand us, stand by us, and walk with us through every high and low.
From childhood giggles to college group chats, from workplace allies to neighborhood companions—friends come in many forms. They might be the ones who stay up all night to cheer us up after a bad day, or those who silently stand by us when words fail. What matters is the connection, the comfort, and the joy they bring.
I’ve always considered myself incredibly fortunate to have been surrounded by amazing friends at every stage of life. Thanks to my Baba’s frequent transfers, we had to change schools every 3 to 5 years. That meant new cities, new faces—and new friendships. While the scenery kept changing, one thing remained constant: the extraordinary people I met along the way. Each place gifted me beautiful friendships that made my journey richer and more meaningful.
Over the years, my friends have often joked—and sometimes complained—about how I’ve changed after marriage. They say I'm not the same girl I used to be. I smile and try to explain that it’s not marriage that changed me, but life’s shifting priorities and growing responsibilities. Sometimes, the roles we play in life evolve, but the love we hold for our friends never fades.
Just like now—on this Friendship Day, I had all intentions of sharing this note of gratitude, but life’s duties pulled me elsewhere. Even so, not a moment passed without thinking about the beautiful bonds that continue to shape me. Missing a post doesn’t mean missing the emotion. The value my friends hold in my heart is constant—then, now, and always.
I still remember those unforgettable post-graduation days when I stepped into hostel —nervous, excited, and a little overwhelmed. That’s when I met Shubhangi, a calm and composed girl from Pandharpur. She was the epitome of discipline and serenity, while I, on the other hand, was her complete opposite—bubbly, talkative, and always full of energy.
Despite our contrasting personalities, there was one powerful thread that tied us together: our sincere dedication to academics. That shared commitment laid the foundation for a deep and lasting friendship.
Every morning, we followed a lovely little ritual. After finishing our morning chores, I would pick fresh flowers blooming right outside our hostel. Together, we would offer them to the small shrine we had set up in our room. Shubhangi, with her artistic flair, had crafted a beautiful flower vase from paper, and we used the remaining flowers to decorate our little sanctuary.
With our minds refreshed and spirits uplifted, we would head straight to the study room at the Shivaji University library. Our focus was crystal clear—we were determined to break the pattern. Only one girl from our senior batch had managed to score a B+ grade, and we were both fiercely motivated to achieve a first class. That goal became our shared mission, and in the process, our bond grew stronger.
As time passed, our little duo gradually blossomed into a beautiful circle of close-knit friends. Slowly, new faces became part of our world—Teju, Prachi, Mangal, and Sneha joined Shubhangi and me, and together we formed a bond that felt more like family than friendship.
Teju was diligently preparing for her MPSC exams, so she would visit the department only once or twice a week, but her presence was always felt. Prachi, Mangal, and Sneha were locals, commuting daily from nearby places like Tope and Shiroli. Despite our different backgrounds, something just clicked. As the saying goes, "birds of a feather flock together"—and indeed, we were united not just by circumstance but by shared values, goals, and laughter-filled days.
Interestingly, the spark that brought us even closer was an elective course—Popular Literature. It was a newly introduced subject, and not many were keen to take it up. In fact, most of our batchmates avoided it altogether. But then, something unexpected happened: the Head of the Department and senior faculty decided to conduct interviews to select students for this course. Out of a batch of 70, only 20 were allotted this elective. And as luck—or perhaps destiny—would have it, we were all among those twenty.
That classroom, that subject, and that shared experience became the glue that bound us even tighter. What started as a mere academic decision led to the formation of a friendship that stood the test of time.
Our Popular Literature elective, though unplanned and unfamiliar at first, quickly became a defining part of our academic journey—and our friendship. The syllabus included ten full-length novels, some of which were literary giants like Dracula, Contact, and Gone with the Wind. At first, we were excited, intrigued by the uniqueness of the course. But as we dove deeper, the reality hit us hard.
These novels weren’t light reads—they were massive, each spanning 1000 to 1500 pages. But the real struggle wasn’t just their length. It was the complete absence of critical material. There were no reference books, no notes, and—hard to believe now—no helpful content on the internet either. We were navigating uncharted territory, trying to make sense of complex narratives with little to guide us.
It was a truly testing time for all twenty of us who had been allotted the elective. The long hours in the library, the endless group discussions, the handwritten notes we exchanged, and the way we relied on each other to break down themes and characters—it was both exhausting and empowering. In that pressure, our bond deepened. We weren’t just classmates anymore; we became a support system.
To add to the challenge, the Popular Literature course was handled by none other than two stalwarts of our department—Dr. C. J. Jahagirdar and Dr. T. K. Karekatti. Both were known for their deep intellect, scholarly rigor, and, admittedly, their strict academic discipline. They weren’t just teaching us to read—they were training us to think, question, and critically engage with texts. There was no space for superficial understanding; every discussion was expected to be rooted in analysis and reflection.
What made it even more intense was the classroom setup. Our lectures didn’t take place in large lecture halls, but in the faculty cabins themselves. The proximity was almost intimidating. Sitting just a few feet away from these esteemed professors, we were expected to express our thoughts clearly, defend our interpretations, and respond to sharp questions. In those initial days, the atmosphere was nerve-wracking. We’d walk into those cabins with racing hearts and cautious words, unsure of what the next hour might demand of us.
But over time, those very sessions became transformative. We learned to be confident, articulate, and fearless in our academic expressions. It wasn’t just literature we were studying—it was a masterclass in intellectual resilience.
Within just a few days, our Popular Literature group became, quite ironically, the most popular group on campus! While the rest of our batchmates were engrossed in Linguistics or other electives, we seemed to live, breathe, and dream Popular Literature. Breakfast conversations, lunchtime chats, and even dinner table discussions somehow circled back to the plots, characters, and symbolism of the ten towering novels we were tackling.
Jokes aside, that intense immersion taught us far more than we had ever anticipated. Amidst the pressure and pages, we didn’t just read stories—we learned to analyze them. We discovered how to uncover hidden layers, relate themes to real-life contexts, and critically evaluate characters and their motivations. The course trained our minds to go beyond surface-level understanding, and in doing so, laid a strong foundation for both academic and personal growth.
One of the most enjoyable and enriching parts of this journey was watching film adaptations of several novels under our department's Movie Club. Whether it was Dracula, Gone with the Wind, or Contact, watching these stories come alive on screen helped us visualize the narratives better and deepened our comprehension of tone, setting, and character arcs. These screenings sparked vibrant discussions and often clarified complexities that were harder to grasp through text alone.
There’s one incident that still brings a smile to my face—and to many others, because it made Shubhangi and me quite famous in the hostel. Every Sunday at 4 PM, the classic TV show Rangoli used to be telecast. As a die-hard fan of Salman Khan, I would never miss it, especially because his songs were a regular feature during those days.
But on the rare occasion that I wasn’t in front of the TV when one of his songs played, Shubhangi would take it upon herself to alert me in her loudest possible voice—“Sarika, Sarika! Your favorite song! Come down quickly!” And just like that, the entire hostel got to know two things: who Sarika was and that she was crazy about Salman Khan!
It became a running joke, a part of my identity during those days—and a cherished memory of how small moments like these create lifelong bonds and stories worth retelling.
As time went on, our circle of friends grew even more vibrant. Vishwanath, Pandu, Tanaji, Rameez, Sudhir, and Ajit joined our group, and what started as a study circle gradually transformed into an extended family. We laughed together, stressed over exams together, and most importantly, stood by each other in both happy and difficult times.
One incident that still touches me deeply is when I fell seriously ill and had to be hospitalized at our University Health Centre. It was during the monsoon season, and heavy rains had blocked the highways, making it impossible for me to travel to Chiplun, where my family was based. But even before I could begin to feel alone, Vishwanath, Prachi, and Mangal were right there by my side.
What followed was pure kindness and friendship in action. Prachi took me home with her, and her mother—despite being a busy schoolteacher—made time to care for me and lovingly prepared delicious home-cooked meals. Mangal, seeing me suffer from a severe neck pain (a side-effect of long study hours), looked after me with such warmth. She even offered effective Ayurvedic remedies that truly brought relief. And of course, Shubhangi, my constant companion, continued to be the silent strength behind me—calm, composed, and always there when it mattered the most.
I take this privilege to thank all my dear ones.
You made my academic life meaningful, my hostel life colorful, and my memories magical. You were there in times of laughter and in moments of tears, and that’s what true friendship is all about.
You all are the true treasure of my life. I might not call you regularly, I might not visit you as often as I wish—but you are always in my thoughts and in my prayers.
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