Listen to casual conversations, and you will hear a common phrase broadcasted without hesitation: "Oh, he is my friend." It is a one-sided declaration. We claim ownership over the relationship. But I have rarely, if ever, heard someone humbly state, "I am his friend."
This asymmetry made me reflect deeply on what a friendship actually is. It cannot exist in a vacuum. It is a strangely beautiful dynamic—a delicate bridge that only stands if both sides bear the weight equally. In 2018, these reflections culminated in a poem capturing the ultimate benchmark of friendship: the reunion of Lord Krishna and Sudama.
For English readers, the true velocity of this reciprocal connection might be lost without context. The imagery describes Krishna's reaction to Sudama's arrival, translating the essence of a flawless human connection into raw devotion.
The poem opens by bending the physics of the palace. For a Supreme Being who contains the infinite universe (अनंत), the finite corridor of his palace suddenly feels larger than infinity itself due to the sheer anticipation of seeing his friend. Rukmini’s astonishment sets the baseline: this is not how a king or a deity normally operates.
Next, we see the complete breakdown of ego and societal structure. The creator of destiny (विधी के विधान) abandons his royal footwear and his majestic adornments (श्रृंगार). In true friendship, the outer shell (the physical layer) ceases to matter; only the core connection remains.
Despite courtiers bowing at every step, Krishna ignores all peripheral traffic. His only concern is the distance to the gate where his friend waits. He casts aside all royal worries, demanding to know how far away his door is. This highlights a laser-like focus on establishing the connection.
This is the emotional climax. The tears and the agitated mind reveal that even the Divine feels the pain of latency—the agonizing gap between when they last connected and now. Asking, "On which path did we separate?" is an admission of profound vulnerability.
The concluding lines are an absolute triumph: "Who is Krishna and who is Sudama, there is no difference in friendship." In the ultimate state of friendship, the duality between King and Pauper, or God and Mortal, completely collapses. They become one entity.
When we look at the landscape of the Vedic era, Lord Krishna was a supreme teacher. He delivered the profound Gyan (wisdom) of the Gita to Arjuna, and he imparted deep philosophical lessons to Uddhava. But to his childhood friend Sudama, Krishna offered no lectures. He delivered no cosmic knowledge.
Friendship operates outside of utility and hierarchy. Sudama walked hundreds of miles with absolutely no expectation from Krishna. And in return, Krishna—the King of Dwarka—abandoned all royal protocol, running barefoot toward the gates with tears streaming down his face. A desperately poor man walked thousands of miles, and a King was ready to surrender his entire wealth just to embrace him.
As a technologist working daily with complex cloud architectures and networking protocols, I view friendship through a very specific, logical lens. In the world of networking, a reliable connection between two servers cannot be established on assumptions. It requires a TCP/IP 3-Way Handshake.
Friendship requires the exact same sequence to ensure true, two-way communication:
If you declare someone is your friend (SYN), but you never receive that reciprocal energy (SYN-ACK), you do not have a friendship. You merely have a dropped packet. A one-sided broadcast into the void.
This technical requirement for a two-way handshake mirrors the insights of modern existential philosophy, particularly Martin Buber’s concept of the "I-Thou" relationship. In modern philosophy, human connections are often divided into two categories.
The "I-It" relationship is transactional. It is based on utility—much like connecting to an API simply to extract data or get something you need. In contrast, the "I-Thou" relationship is a genuine, reciprocal encounter between two equals. You do not view the other person as an object or a mere label ("he is my friend"). Instead, you recognize them as a complete, independent consciousness.
Just as a network connection fails without an ACK, an authentic human connection fails without mutual recognition. True friendship demands that we step out of our own ego, drop our royal protocol like Krishna, and enter a shared space of validation.
Friendship is a strange and demanding relationship. It requires no bloodline and obeys no hierarchy, but it absolutely requires a flawless handshake.
So, the next time you claim someone is your friend, pause and ask yourself:
Are you their friend?