In a split second—or sometimes even sooner than a WhatsApp notification—memories can pull us into the time machine and drop us in the most unexpected corners of our past.
For me, one such nostalgic pit stop is a primary school classroom, where I proudly graduated from Grade 5 to Grade 6 and was introduced to the mysterious world of English. From mastering the ABCs to forming baby sentences, it was like learning to walk all over again—but with words.
By the end of that one-year term, to the amazement of my teacher, I could write in cursive English—that elegant, loopy script where the letters hold hands like best friends at recess.
Our English assignments included writing “essays,” which, at 50 to 150 words, felt like epic sagas at the time. The topics were as classic as they were predictable: the loyal dog (man’s best friend), the selfless cow (India’s unpaid milkmaid), and those timeless tales—”The Thirsty Crow”, “The Grapes are Sour”, and of course, the tortoise-rabbit “slow and steady wins the race.”
We also became professional excuse-makers, drafting formal leave applications to the headmaster, citing illness—real or, more often, imagined. I dare say that some of us showed early promise for careers as wordsmiths.
One standout assignment I still remember was writing about a best friend. At that age, it wasn’t so much Pulitzer-worthy prose as it was a mix of imagination, elder sibling input, and some wishful thinking.
But the seed was sown. That simple act of putting friendship into words planted in me the value of having friends—and being one.
As years rolled on, so did friendships—some casual, some close, some carved in stone. There were family friends, school friends, work friends, and those rare gems we call best friends—the ones who stay after the party’s over to help clean up the mess and put the dishes in the dishwasher.
Yes, they say “a friend in need is a friend indeed,” but let’s be honest—most of our needs are not about emergencies. They’re about laughter, chai breaks, card games, gossip marathons, and sharing conspiracy theories over dinner (some culinary, some political).
From Rummi to Teen Patti, from heated debates on world affairs to harmless banter about cricket or hockey scores, friends are our unpaid therapists and honorary family members rolled into one.
In our senior years, friends become even more vital, like reading glasses for the soul. Along with hobbies, they help fend off boredom, which psychologists say is hazardous to health. (And no, binge-watching TV doesn’t count as a hobby.)
In short, life without friends and hobbies would be like a sandwich without filling—technically complete, but hopelessly dry.
So, whether we’re picking up an old hobby or reconnecting with an old friend, remember: both are excellent ways to pass the time.
Promod Puri.com 