Not A Love Story, But A Story About Understanding A |Different Kind Of Love

By Naina Parasher

“I hereby present the new board and discharge the current board,” Sarah paused to compose herself, while the rest of us attempted to not cry over a video conference call. We went from meeting each member of the team at least once a week, to now only seeing each other over a skype or zoom call when necessary amid the first Covid-19 lockdown. We all continue to care deeply about each other, being early 20-somethings, our busy lives maintaining a hustle for success have little time to spare for reunions. When we do meet however, it’s like a reunion of friendships developed over a long period of time which stands in stark contrast to the reality of knowing each other for barely a year.

The university education system in the Netherlands lays the responsibility of all kinds of socialisation upon the shoulders of the students themselves. Navigating the different organisations and fraternity-like groups, I had stumbled upon the study association Elixir after a few months of attending the my study program. This association was the first place where I had truly felt like I fit in, where people were friendly and in spite of being one of the few in the room who did not speak Dutch, I never felt like I was being treated differently.

About 6 months later, I had applied and accepted the Internal Relations position for the Managing Board of the association against the judgement and warnings of some close friends who unfortunately had poor experiences with associations and felt I was taking on too much work. Taking over the position it was merely a responsibility I had hoped to learn from and add to my CV, little did I know it would lead to lasting bonds which will be of the main reasons I find myself dwelling happily in this city in spite of how dire the personal or collective losses of the pandemic may seem.

Through the initial formal meetings we found a common drive to do better for the members of the association. We hit the ground running in terms of workload. With the handling and organisation of all our work divided into six roles, we were all aware of our prospective responsibilities. With the most diverse team of six people, we still managed to have similar goals, and a love for education and seeking knowledge.

In a bid to outdo the previous years, we met about twice or thrice in combinations as per the discussions required. The range of tasks we handled simultaneously reached a point where we had to introduce new organisation systems like Slack almost half-way through the year while attempting to balance our studies and other responsibilities alongside. After mulling for weeks we agreed the needed next step for us to get to know each other on a more personal level to keep the wheels turning smoothly and avoid the conflicts we could see arising from the stress.

A few months later, after figuring out all scheduling discrepancies, a small city in the Netherlands, in an Airbnb apartment, partly hungover and partly tired from a fun gala night at a sister association’s lustrum celebrations. After a quick meeting and getting work stress out of the way, it was time to spice things up.

I had read multiple stories of NYT’s article stating the 36 questions that make you fall in love. And being the skeptic I am when it comes to all things romantic, the questions seemed merely to help you get to know each other, understand each other’s personality.

Stumbling through the initial introductory questions and skipping the ones with the more obvious romantic connotations, we got to the ones which prompted us to think deeper. From the lighter note of dinner guests, perfect days and either/or scenarios, and going through more than four hours of conversation, part of which also included a proper dinner at a restaurant, we were discussing things I personally considered “3AM intimate conversations”.

The last few years had left me apprehensive towards forming deep friendships with people in a place I was bound to move on from. My insecurities stemmed from my personal experiences and a general reality I faced which involved frequent changing of my country of residence. But fate and love are things which don’t wait for our convenience.

“What is your most terrible memory?,” read the next question. Taking a deep breath, and realising a heavy and longer discussion lay ahead, we refilled our teas and made ourselves comfortable in the oddly minimalist yet welcoming environment of the Airbnb apartment.

“I was bullied in middle school”, for a group as diverse as ours, we all could empathise if not relate to the sentiment. “Oftentimes, the person bullying is often acting out on their own insecurities”, said Lowell and we agreed, “ but the impact it has on the victim and the way it is handled in a general public school system, is not effective.” The continuing discussion revealed our group contained both ends of the spectrum and those who had been both the bully and the victim with regrettable decisions and courses of action taken.

It was the vulnerability of sharing the emotional impact of these actions which created an understanding among us, much less the discussion surrounding the act itself. In a group of atheists, agnostics and a devout Christian, we were all treading carefully with our answers, but we knew being candid about our thoughts was the better way forward.

The conversation turned to the loss of loved ones. One member shared the loss of a close friend at a young age within circumstances where friendships provided more stability than family itself. Another shared the loss of a loved grandparent who was involved in raising them as much as the parents themselves.

For me, it was a few days away from the first anniversary of a fresh wound of the loss of one of the few close friends I had made after a period in my life where I had withdrawn from most socialisation. The most terrible memory stemmed from a scenario surrounding the event and not the event itself. “I had to inform my friends’ mother of her death.”

The silence was palpable yet comforting in its own way.

“It can still unfold in my head in slow-motion while feeling every emotion all over again. The police came down the staircase leading up to her apartment, and broke the news to her boyfriend and I who were there to check-in on her after she had been AWOL for a couple of days. Comprehending what had happened and then calling her mother with whom I had been in touch since the previous night, on her way to the city, both of us had been reassuring each other all morning. Breaking the news to her and to other mutual friends who had all been following up on the situation unfolding, every single second of the day still sits clear in my head.”

Revealing other details and moving past initial courtesies, with every moment I could feel the growing empathy and understanding of what I had been through. I felt heard and warm in a way I had only with family of friends who had known me since childhood.

“With everything that happens in the world, evil or good, there is a higher power there. A higher power that is looking over you. Even if something bad happens, it is there to make sure that you have the strength to get over it. No matter how hard it seems right now, we need to keep going, keep working because there will be something better. We may not know it now, and it may be an afterlife or during our life now, there will be a better place. We just have to believe in it and keep working towards it.” Darcey said after sharing the details of a harrowing childhood experience they had been through.

It was not as much about the words she said or the beliefs we all had. Sharing our life stories in such a vulnerable and intimate manner allowed us to see each other as individuals who have triumphed over obstacles and the humanity in each other beyond what is defined by our goals, purposes or privileges. We could move past the courtesies of being friendly colleagues and consider each other as close friends.

The support and love surrounding us that evening and as it continues to today, helped heal the scars of the previous year and the mental health stumbles I had had. The emotions I had attempted to rationalise in therapy longer felt as large, obscure or unmanageable. An important thing about love and love stories, be it in the context of romance, family, friendships or other inexplicable relationships, as humans, is to see each other clearly. Vulnerability is something we often tend to avoid, but it is only through the lens of emotions, we finally see the pure nature of humanity in each other.

Continuing the conversation now without the aid of the questions, difficult childhoods were not an uncommon theme, perhaps unknown to us, a motivator in our collective drive to push ourselves and prove our worthiness. We cried together and laughed together, shared life stories in a scope of a two day trip, understanding and recognising a kind of love for each other which allowed us to accept each other for who we are, ending the remaining period of our job with a refreshed understanding of each other and no pointless fights.

An opinion I have firmly held through the years, once again proved true, platonic bonds do have the power to be as strong and long-lasting as familial bonds, sometimes providing the support we didn’t know we needed. It is true what they say, ‘love heals’, but for some godforsaken reason we make it the task of romantic love.

By Naina Parasher