27 July-2 August: A Story of Friendship and Betrayal

Happy International and National Friendship Day to all my friends!

I personally believe that Friendship Day exists for a cause: To remind people that we must value friendship every day of every year. To remind us that loyalty and trust are built into one’s character through friendship. For a friend is a relation which is not by blood, but which has the capability to transcend all such blood relations to become a different and special one.

And as a reminder of how important friendship and loyalty is, this week’s Weekly Wonders will have only one story, which will also form its Room for Thought: A story of betrayal.


[Disclaimer: The characters and events portrayed in this prose poem are purely fictional. Any reference to real people, living or dead, or real events, is purely coincidental. Reader’s discretion is advised.]

To anyone who cares to lend an ear,
I put forth this letter, blotted with my tears.

I wonder whether I should tell my story

After all, I've held on to it so long.
So very long.
I haven't told it to anyone.
But probably I should speak my mind.

Not to speak against him, no!
Just to relieve myself of the burden I've borne

I have a friend.
Had, I should say, probably.
We haven't talked in such a long time.

There was once a time
In the distant past
(Which feels like an alternate reality now);
There was a time
When we were the best of friends.
Brothers, only with different blood.
Willing to do anything for each other,
Willing to go to any length to help each other.
Even willing to sacrifice oneself for each other.
But I speak of a time long past.
Fortune is often portrayed as a blind woman;
I think it is nothing but a cruel person.
Others may argue;
They may say, that
Good and bad fortune always balance out in the end.
But I say,
What if the misfortune so indents your life,
So mars it, so scars it,
That when good fortune comes
The person cannot even experience it properly?
Where is the balance then?
We were friends.
We were brothers.
We were confidants.
We were so much more.
Even till that last day.
The last day before that fateful day
When disaster struck and tore us apart.
We trusted each other with our lives.
And I trusted him to speak for me
When I could not bring myself to.
It was an intimate affair
Which I do not want to disclose.
But him, him I trusted with anything.
And I asked him to speak on my behalf.
And he did.
He spoke.
Spoke in a way I never had, or will, imagine myself speaking.
Overnight, everything changed.
Before the next day started
Our friendship was broken.
I knew it in my heart, deep down
But I could not bring myself to believe it.

Perhaps I still have not.
But negativity spreads like wildfire in a drought-hit forest.
When I was confronted next day
And people talked to me
It felt as if
They were talking to someone else standing behind me,
Not to me.
I think it is obvious why
People thought I had said all that he had;
I need not elaborate.
All the comments I received
Did not hurt nearly as much
As this did -
There was no attempt to douse the fire
By the only source of water which could.
The water was withheld.
The fire raged on.
In the end, of course,
The fire burns itself out.
But by then,
The whole forest is charred.
Very few trees remain rooted to the ground,
Insistent not to fall prey
To the manic fire.
Now you might be wondering,
Even hoping, I daresay,
That I told on him.
That I revealed everything.
That I showed him for what he truly was.
That I brought him the ignominy he deserved.
That I took my sweet vengeance, served cold.
I didn't.
What would I gain
By exposing him?
What if he had not meant it to turn out that way
But it had?
What if he was repenting
And I would only make it worse?
Then again
Why would people even believe me if I said?
Whom would I be harming more
Hurting more
If I told on him,
Him or me?
Reason and rationale don't always work.
And there are some questions which you ask yourself
But cannot answer yourself satisfactorily.
Thus it has always been.
I have held on to this for so long.
I thought of putting it down on paper,
So that people might read it
Might understand, empathise, sympathise.
I don't care for sympathy without empathy, though.
Sympathy without empathy
Is like a well with saline water;
It gives you hope
But only little
It edges you on
Only to disappoint.
If you, dear reader
Have read this letter
Till here,
I ask only for 
One more favour.
Whatever I did, I did for his sake
Tell me, was I correct?

Expecting your reply,


That’s all for this week! I’ll be back next week with some more snippets and thoughts! Thanks for reading!


3 thoughts on “27 July-2 August: A Story of Friendship and Betrayal

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