In my two years in Brisbane, I made some of my closest friends – My boss, mentor and guide – Paul, (P – to many of you who have followed my blog), Brian, Shreema, Carrol, Hastak and Stephen.

They followed me through my ups and downs and helped me in my journey of self-discovery. With each person, I shared a unique equation, almost like all my friends knew a different ‘Shruti’. And yet, perhaps Paul and Stephen knew me most comprehensively.

This post is about Stephen – my best friend. I usually refrain from journaling deeply personal experiences in this blog, but I make an exception today. Partly because, I feel like it was worth sharing, and partly because Stephen (unlike all my other friends) never reads my blog.

Usually, I would give you some background and introduction, but as the intention of this piece is not, to make good reading, I will not include any detail on how we met, or became friends, or even our ups and downs. I will not draw much attention to his introversion, introspection, Indian-fascination, Italian origin, chocolate obsession, under confidence, patience, complexity, intelligence, sensitivity, moodiness, reclusion or humour. He was just my housemate Stephen, who gradually grew into being my buddy.

Leaving Brisbane was a hard time. I was stepping out of my comfort zone and perhaps I should have spent more time preparing myself. Instead, I tried to ignore it for as long as I could. Then I became ambivalent about my life ahead. But not for long. Reality and an almost tangible sense of homesickness hit when I landed in Delhi. And so – I started to do what every home-sick person does – call home. Or rather, call Stephen.

He was amused, gruff, supportive, sardonic and reclusive. Almost preparing himself to be forgotten by me, as I got involved in my new life, he chose to distance himself bit by bit. The more he distanced, the more I was wounded. I thought I needed his help, support and encouragement. It was like a dance of wounded souls.

Finally the inevitable happened. I issued an angry ultimatum and he admitted that for him, absence made the heart grow fonder, constant communication cheapened it. Our ideas on staying in touch were irreconcilable. Agreeing to disagree, we decided not to stay in touch anymore. It has been ever since, and will stay so.

It was amazing how quickly a friendship so deep, unravelled. Was it all because I left ‘on a jet plane’ one fine day? Or was it for deeper, more underlying issues? Are we so frightened of being abandoned by our friends, that it is easier to sabotage the friendship ourselves, first? And is it so difficult to process the grief of closing a chapter in your life, that you need the continuous encouragement and contact of a friend or loved one to get through it? I cannot say.

It has been two weeks since the day we said our final, super melodramatic goodbyes. I wept enough to justify a death, not a mere fight. Probably because I knew, that there was no going back. It was like a chapter closing in my life. The ties were cut. It was finally, my good bye to Brisbane. I was finally processing the grief and pain of leaving.

I just wish I had not sacrificed a friend in the process.

Happier times - Cheerfully Drunk at Easter