Friends, In Hindsight - By Yeshita Jeet Tripathi

Written By: Yeshita Jeet Tripathi

Category: Personal Essay (Creative Non-Fiction)

Competition: Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the vibrant realm of the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, Yeshita Jeet Tripathi offers a poignant reflection on the complexities of friendships in her essay "Friends, In Hindsight." This piece, categorized under Creative Writing, invites readers into a personal exploration of evolving relationships and the delicate balance between ambition and connection. Through her narrative, Yeshita provides an introspective glimpse into the shifting tides of college friendships, marked by both joy and melancholy.

About the Work

"Friends, In Hindsight" captures the bittersweet essence of growing apart from once-close companions. The prose is both reflective and candid, exploring themes of isolation and self-discovery against the backdrop of Yeshita's pursuit of her dreams. With a narrative that balances vulnerability and strength, she paints vivid imagery of past camaraderie and the subtle disconnects that have emerged. Her writing resonates with anyone who has experienced the evolving nature of friendship.

Friends, In Hindsight

Original Submission by Yeshita Jeet Tripathi

FRIENDS, IN HINDSIGHT

- By Yeshita Jeet Tripathi

I was sitting in my room last evening when I got a call from a friend.

I was surprised to see her name on my screen because it was unusual for her to call me outside college hours. We weren’t particularly close, you see.

I picked it up.

“Hi?”

There was no response.

I tried again.

Still nothing.

I could hear people talking in the background and quickly realised that she had accidentally butt-dialled me.

Understanding the reason behind this unexpected phone call, I was about to hang up when I heard a familiar voice.

I stopped.

It was another one of my friends, calling out to her. I could hear the two of them talking.

I was slightly taken aback.

This was the same friend who supposedly had terrible blisters on her feet and, because of that, couldn’t come to college that day. She had even asked me to explain her absence to the teacher in a class we were supposed to attend together.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking.

“It’s normal, Yeshita. Maybe she was feeling better later and they decided to hang out.”

And maybe that’s exactly what happened.

But for some reason, that phone call left me with a much sadder realisation: my friends don’t seem to include me in their plans anymore.

Let me give you some context to this.

Almost an year ago, I was at the peak of my college social life.

I had a huge group of friends-the kind of group people secretly wished they were a part of. We were loud, chaotic and inseparable. We hung out almost every day, made spontaneous plans and went on trips together.

Among them were some of my closest friends-the kind you call every day and tell everything to.

But more than that, I felt like I was an important part of the group.

Every morning, I would get calls asking me to meet friends. Plans would revolve around my schedule. My friends would sometimes even get jealous when I spent time with other people.

I felt loved. I felt wanted.

And, admittedly, I was proud of it.

I even looked down upon people who didn’t have a close-knit group like mine.

Then slowly things changed.

My ambitions of pageantry and modelling gradually pulled me away from my social life. I started attending college less, meeting my friends lesser and spending more time at trainings, shoots and events.

Initially, my friends complained.

They would complain that I was never around anymore. They would ask when I was finally going to make time for them.

But slowly, the calls became fewer.

Plans were made excluding me.

I went from being one of the central people in the group to becoming an occasional member-the “hustler” who was always too busy for her friends.

At first, I barely noticed.

I was busy chasing something I cared deeply about, and perhaps I convinced myself that friendships would remain exactly where I had left them.

Then, one Sunday, I saw an Instagram story.

It was a group picture of all my friends hanging out together.

A hangout I wasn’t even aware of.

When I asked why nobody had told me, one of my friends casually replied:

“We didn’t ask you because we thought you’d be busy like always.”

That night, I cried like a baby.

Not because I had missed a hangout.

But because I suddenly understood that something had changed.

The friendships I had once taken so much pride in were slowly becoming memories.

For someone who once had an active social life- for the first time, I didn’t know who to call when I wanted to go out.

And then, in an almost cruel twist of fate, the pageant dream I had prioritised over so much of my social life came crashing down.

I didn’t win the title I had worked towards.

The thing I had sacrificed time, friendships and a part of my ordinary college life for, was suddenly no longer there.

I was devastated.

Lost.

And, more than anything, alone.

I didn’t know who to call.

That was a couple of months ago.

Since then, I’ve been trying to rebuild the fragments of the friendships I had allowed to drift away. I make an extra effort to meet my friends. I show up to gatherings. I initiate plans.

Things aren’t exactly the way they used to be.

It feels a little like tying a rope back together after it has snapped. The rope is whole again, but the knots remain visible.

Still, I’m trying.

And that unexpected phone call brought me back to a realisation I had been avoiding: perhaps things will never be exactly like they were before.

And maybe, that’s life.

People grow apart.

It hurts, yes.

It can make you question whether the memories meant as much to the other person as they did to you.

That butt-dial wasn't a malicious act; it was just a glimpse into a rhythm that no longer includes me. And that’s the hardest part to swallow.

There's no big fallout to fix, no villain to confront, no single moment to point to and say that’s where it broke. Just a gradual shift in the tide while my back was turned.

I’m learning that trying to rebuild a space you stepped away from isn't as simple as just showing up again. You can sit at the same table, share the same jokes, and still feel the faint outline of the distance that wasn't there an year ago.

I hung up the phone last night and didn't call back to ask why she was out, or why her feet suddenly felt fine. A part of me wanted to, if only to hear whatever easy excuse was ready on the other line. But mostly, I just sat there in the quiet of my room, listening to the house settle around me.

I don't know if these friendships will eventually find a new shape, or if I'm just lingering in the hallway of a room I used to own. Right now, I'm just sitting with the cold comfort of knowing that life moved on while I was looking somewhere else.

* The end

About the Competition

The Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar stands as a celebration of literary creativity and expression. This prestigious event invites participants from around the globe to share their unique voices and stories, fostering a vibrant community of writers. Through diverse categories, the competition highlights the power of words to inspire, provoke, and connect us all.

We extend our deepest gratitude to Yeshita Jeet Tripathi for sharing her heartfelt essay "Friends, In Hindsight" with us. Her participation in the Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 enriches the tapestry of stories and reflections that define this year's event. Thank you, Yeshita, for your candid exploration of friendship and change.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.