The shrill calls of the door-to-door vegetable vendor interrupted my thoughts. I had been skimming the newspaper headlines as I sipped tea sitting on the porch of my friend’s house in Chandigarh, India. The greenery around the house and the incessant chirping of the birds provided the perfect backdrop for a lazy morning. As the hawker’s calls faded, I reflected on how I had ended up in Chandigarh, a city far from my usual Toronto-India routes.

It all started with a Facebook friend request.

A long-lost friend had reached out, wondering if I was the same person he thought I was. It turned out that I was. One pleasant surprise led to another, and before long, I was in a small WhatsApp group of four friends whose lives had intersected in Bombay four decades ago.

Friends and family reuniting over social media are almost passé these days. But this one felt different. In retrospect, our lives were like episodes of NBC’s Friends — a small group of single, middle-class, twenty-somethings sharing an apartment while dealing with day-to-day vagaries of career, life, friendship, and romance. The group was as diverse as it could get — three guys and a girl from the four corners of the country!

When someone in the group floated the idea of a physical meeting, it was just that, an idea. Getting together to reminisce about bygone days posed logistical challenges that involved Dubai, Toronto, Bombay, Calcutta, and Chandigarh. Personal constraints included work, caring for elderly parents, spouse schedules, and costs.

An audio file of a deep-voiced man reciting a Hindi poem, shared within the WhatsApp group, provided me the impetus to make the meeting happen. The poem was titled “Kuch Dost.”

My Hindi is sketchy. Yet, I knew that the literal translation of the title “Certain Friends” or “Some Friends” would not capture the poet’s nuanced sentiments. I was drawn to the poet’s sense of déjà vu as he wrote about how random anecdotal memories brought old friends to mind.

As I listened to the words, many of which I had to look up, I realized that I had not read many English poems about friends and friendships. Pining about long-lost friends is not a thing in the western world. However, the poem written as random musings of the poet resonated with me. Knowing fully well that I will not be able to capture the true essence of the poetry in its translated form, here’s my attempt at it.

Kuch Dost (Certain Friends)

Main Yaadon Ka Qissa Kholu Toh, Kuch Dost Bahut Yaad Aate Hai

If I open the tales of my memories, certain friends come to mind a lot.

Main Guzre Pal Ko Sochun Toh, Kuch Dost Bahut Yaad Aate Hai.

When I think about the bygone days, certain friends come to mind a lot.

Ab Jane Kaun Si Nagri Mein, Abaad Hai Jakar Muddat Se

I wonder in which city they ended up settling in during this time.

Main Der Raat Tak Jaagu Toh, Kuch Dost Bahut Yaad Aate Hai.

If I stay awake late at night, certain friends come to mind a lot.

Kuch Baate Thi Phoolon Jaisi, Kuch Lehze Khusbu Jaise they.

Some conversations were like flowers; some accents like fragrances.

Main Shaher-e-Chaman Mein Tehlu To, Kuch Dost Bahut Yaad Aate Hai.

When I walk the city’s gardens, certain friends come to mind a lot.

Sabki zindagi badal gayi, Ek Naaye sire mein dhal gayi,

Everyone’s lives have changed and taken on new directions.

Kisi ko Naukri se fursat nahi, Kisi ko Doston ki zarurat nahi,

Some have no time off work; some do not need friends.

Saare Yaar gumh ho gaye hai, “Tu” se “Tum” aur “Aap” ho gaye hai,

All the friends have disappeared. Ones addressed as “Tu” became “Tum” and “Aap.“

Main Guzre pal ko sochu to, Kuch Dost bahut yaad aate hain,

When I think about the bygone days, certain friends come to mind a lot.

Dheere dheere umr kat jatee hai, Jeevan yaadon kee pustak ban jaatee hai

You start aging slowly; life becomes a book of memories.

Kabhee kisee kee yaad bahut tadpaatee hai, Aur kabhee yaadon ke sahaare zindagee kat jaatee hai

At times, someone’s memory torments you, and, at times, the memories help you get on with your life.

Kinaaro pe saagar ke khajaane nahin aate, phir jeevan mein dost puraane nahin aate

The ocean’s treasures do not come to the banks, and, in life, friends never get old.

Jee lo in palon ko has ke dost; phir laut ke dostee ke jamaane nahin aate

Live these moments with laughter, friend; such times of friendship seldom return.

Oh yeah, about that reunion. It went great. If anything, it felt a little short.

It took a poem to remind me: Friends get old, but friendships don’t.