Beyond The Divide

Siddharth had always felt that friendships should be simple, but nothing in his life ever was. He was twenty, studying commerce in a local college in Kanpur, a tier-2 city where people lived between tradition and modernity. His father ran a small electronics repair shop, and his mother was a homemaker. They had enough to get by, but only just.

In college, he made friends, both with guys and girls, but he didn’t understand what made the two different—if anything at all.

With Amit and Ravi, his childhood friends who had also joined the same college, things were straightforward. They talked about cricket, movies, and occasionally, girls. Conversations were laced with insults that meant nothing and competitions that meant everything. When Amit got a girlfriend, the group dynamics shifted slightly, but no one talked about it. That was the unspoken rule of same-sex friendships—they worked best in the unsaid.

With Riya and Neha, his college acquaintances, things were different. They asked questions that Amit and Ravi never did—What do you actually want in life? Why do you hold yourself back? It was both refreshing and unsettling. Unlike with his male friends, where silences were comfortable, with them, silences felt like something had been left unsaid. He found himself thinking about their words long after conversations ended.

Yet, he also noticed differences that made him uncomfortable. Amit and Ravi rarely discussed emotions, but they never hesitated to help him in practical matters—notes, money, covering for him when he skipped classes. Riya and Neha, on the other hand, could discuss everything deeply, but there was always an invisible distance, a certain hesitation in how much they trusted him. Maybe it was societal conditioning, or maybe men and women just were different.

One day, he sat in a quiet tea stall near the college, watching his friends—Amit and Ravi laughing at some meme, Riya and Neha discussing an upcoming event. He felt torn. What kind of friendship was real? The one where emotions weren’t spoken but understood, or the one where emotions were analyzed but never truly tested?

It hit him then. Friendship isn’t about same-sex or cross-sex—it’s about the expectations we bring into them. With men, he was expected to be indifferent yet loyal. With women, he was expected to be open yet careful. Both friendships had their place, and neither was superior.

That evening, Siddharth walked home with a rare sense of clarity. Whether society shaped friendships or personalities did, he still wasn’t sure. But he no longer felt the need to choose.