Ashhar Alam

Human relations are not always built on shared beliefs, surnames, or identities. Among them, friendship is essentially built on trust, warmth, and empathy. One such bond in my life is the friendship I share with Anil Yadav. Our friendship dates back to our childhood and continues to stand strong even today.

In 2007, as school children living in a Bihar village, we were unaware of the divisions the world often tries to impose. Life was simple, and happiness came easily. Festivals were moments of joy, not symbols of difference. Among all those days, "Makar Sankranti" holds a special place in my heart, because it was a day that brought me closer to Anil and his family.

As the festrival marking the transition of the sun from the zodiac of Sagittarius to Capricorn is approaching (January 14), my mind goes back to those days of love and innocence.

Every year, on Makar Sankranti, I would eagerly walk to Anil’s house under the soft winter sun. The air carried the scent of sesame and freshly prepared food. Before stepping inside, I would always greet Anil’s grandfather first, folding my hands respectfully. He would smile, place his hand gently on my head, and bless me. That simple gesture made me feel safe, respected, and at home.

Inside the house, Anil was waiting for me, his eyes filled with excitement. Without delay, he would bring a plate beautifully prepared with Chooda (Flattened rice flakes), curd, and til-gud (seasme seeds and jaggery). We would sit side by side, sharing the meal, laughing over small school stories and innocent jokes. In those moments, there was no awareness of religion only friendship, laughter, and warmth.

AI-generated moment of Snil and author enjoying Dahi Chooda

From the kitchen, Anil’s grandmother would often look at us and ask with genuine affection, “Beta, aur loge?”(Sons would you have some more food).

Smiling shyly, I would reply, “Nahi dadi, pet bhar gaya.” (No, Grandmother, my stomach is full).

Her voice was filled with love, concern and care; it was the same as that of my grandmother. In that home, I was never treated as someone else’s child or as someone belonging to a different faith. I was simply "their own".

Those small moments taught me lessons no classroom ever could. They taught me that "love does not ask your name or your religion". It only asks whether you are human. Anil’s family never saw me as a Muslim boy visiting their home; they saw me as Anil’s friend, a child who deserved warmth and respect.

AI-generated picture of author and Anil

As we grew older, life slowly became more complex. News headlines began speaking of divisions, hatred, and mistrust. People started drawing lines between “us” and “them.” Yet, our friendship remained untouched by all of it. The memories of those Sankranti mornings stood like a shield, reminding us of a truth we had lived, "that harmony is natural when hearts are pure".

Even today, when I look back, those memories fill my eyes with quiet emotion. They remind me that India’s true strength lies not in loud slogans, but in such silent bonds, where a Hindu grandmother feeds a Muslim child with love, and two friends sit together without knowing they are setting an example for the world.

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My friendship with Anil is not just a personal story; it is a reminder that "brotherhood begins at home, grows in childhood, and survives when nurtured with sincerity". Some friendships don’t fade with time. They become part of who you are. And mine with Anil Yadav will forever remain a symbol of love beyond labels, faith beyond fear, and unity beyond all divisions.

Readers are welcome to share their experiences of communal harmony or interreligious friendship on [email protected]  for publication - Editor