The Power in Vulnerability
By Jaya Pandey
Photo by Jaya Pandey
A conversation on TV between Trevor Noah and Simon Sinek about friendship was particularly intriguing to me. They spoke about the power of vulnerability in relationships and the importance of investing time and energy to build meaningful connections. While they didn’t cover any groundbreaking ideas, their casual yet thought-provoking discussion left a lasting impression. Friends are often described as the family we choose, but how often do we truly give them the same importance? Simon was spot on when he said that we make time for work, hobbies, and social obligations, but do we make enough time for our friends?
The segment also explored the idea that being a true friend isn’t about shielding them from your struggles. It’s about allowing them to be an active participant in your life.
During my school and college years, I had two best friends—one in California and the other in Bangalore, India. We all had many classmates and friends growing up in our town, attending the same schools through college. However, after college and marriage, some of us moved away and became consumed with life, losing touch with classmates. Years later, WhatsApp reconnected many of us, but the “friendship,” whatever little we had, faded as we no longer had much in common beyond our shared past. It felt like we had outgrown those relationships.
I’m lucky to have stayed in touch with these two friends and their families back home. I won’t lie—it took effort. I was often the one making the first call or organizing visits, but they always reciprocated in every way they could. I don’t wait for them to call me; I reach out when I miss them or when they cross my mind. These two women were a part of my early “village.” We had different personalities, came from different backgrounds, and had different aspirations, but we valued and appreciated each other. We never tried to change one another, always focusing on the positive aspects of our friendship. With old friendships, time and distance don’t seem to matter much—you just pick up right where you left off.
Though we lead different lives now, think differently, and live far apart, we can talk about anything and everything without fear of judgment. We share our fears, ask for advice, vent when we need to, and support each other through all of life’s ups and downs.
My friend from California visited me last fall. Though we had met many times before, this time, she came with no agenda—no plans, no kids, no husband. We didn’t have anything planned—it was just a weekend of hanging out. I decided to show her Boston my way. For two days, we walked for miles, talked about everything under the sun, and reflected on our lives. At one point, she said, “High school and college friends are different—they get you, they understand you, and there’s no pretense.” I didn’t fully agree with her, and I reminded her how lucky we were to have this with each other. Not everyone gets that kind of connection with their old friends. Though we have always been different people, we’ve always admired and respected each other for who we are. I pointed out that so many of our school friends don’t meet each other this often.
By the way, while I was nurturing my “village,” another meaningful friendship was quietly blossoming. Little did I know that this friendship would eventually lead to marriage 11 years later, enriching my and my sister’s lives in unexpected ways and adding a whole new dimension to my “village.”
I have a circle of friends, each connecting with me in unique and meaningful ways. Some share my love for music and poetry, while others bond with me over our shared passion for sarees. Some are activists, while many have children with special needs. Some of them live nearby, while others are scattered across the globe. All of them hold a special place in my heart—nothing more, nothing less.
While my sisters are my unwavering support system, there are certain things only these friends can truly understand. The ones I’m connected with through poetry, literature, and ghazals hold a particularly exceptional significance in my life. With them, I can lose myself in the rhythm of words and music, forgetting all my worries. Those conversations and moments together help me find the strength to navigate life’s complexities.
My love for sarees has also introduced me to incredible women who have become an essential part of my life. They challenge me, inspire me, and help me grow into a better version of myself. These saree meets—filled with fun and laughter among like-minded women—are the highlight of my social life. They are the reason I look forward to dressing up and embracing the joy of the moment.
One of my oldest friendships, spanning a quarter-century, includes three close friends here in Boston. We’ve raised our children together and have always been each other’s support system. We might not go on vacations together, and we only started going out to dinner in recent years, but all four of us are each other’s emergency contacts. We didn’t go bar-hopping, but we celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, share meals at one another’s homes, meet each other’s families—even those in India—and spend countless hours chatting and laughing. We know the ins and outs of each other’s households and are there for one another through thick and thin. When I received the call about my mom being in the hospital, they were the first to know. It’s this understanding and unconditional support that has kept our bond strong. There are too many memories to count—whether laughing over homemade meals, comforting each other during tough times, or celebrating life’s simple joys together.
I feel these friendships lift a significant burden from my husband. He doesn’t have to be everything for me. Esther Perel, a renowned psychotherapist, often discusses how in today’s society, we place all our emotional, social, and practical needs on a single partner. This can be overwhelming. She compares this to past times when communities or “villages” offered support in various ways—something we now expect from just one person.
The Desi Moms Network (a “village” I’ve built for Indian mothers of children with special needs in the Boston area) redefines what friendship means.
When I first started this group, purely based on friendship, it felt strange to some of the mothers. They were meeting and not talking about their kids, but about themselves. It was hard for them to step out of that “motherhood shell” and just be themselves. But slowly, they began to understand the value of building a friendship first, which later helped them support each other on a different level.
These mothers are there for each other in ways even their families cannot be. There are countless stories, but one in particular will stay with me for a long time. A new member of the group introduced herself, feeling defeated and overwhelmed by depression and seeking help. Within minutes, she was surrounded by women offering their unconditional support, from texts and calls to invites to meet in person.
The moms in this group have a unique understanding of friendship. They see each other as lifelong sisters on this challenging journey. For them, friendship is not just a bond, it’s a sisterhood, a family, and a sense of belonging.
One mother shared that the most meaningful aspect of this bond is being able to be her true, unfiltered self. She doesn’t have to pretend, put on a brave face, or force a smile. She can be raw and honest about her fears, worries, and pain. This kind of connection—where you are fully seen and accepted without judgment—is something we all wish for in friendships, but rarely find. It’s a cocoon of safety and support.
Another mom shared that, within this group, she doesn’t have to pretend everything is okay or that her world isn’t falling apart. These friends understand the unspoken struggles in each other’s homes and accept every child for who they are.
One more mom said that these ladies will always have her back. They’ll tell her like it is, and sometimes even give her a nudge to meet deadlines and get things done.
Friendships can be conditional in our lives—some are long-lasting, while others are temporary. But what makes them stick for you? What does friendship mean to you? You’re not the same person you were in high school or college. Do your friends appreciate who you are now? Do they celebrate your successes with you? Are they there for you during tough times? Do they care for you? Do they help make you a better person?
True friendship is not just about shared memories or convenience. It’s about vulnerability, unconditional support, and evolving together. The relationships we cultivate can define us, challenge us, and lift us higher. It’s this kind of friendship that truly lasts.
