I wonder if we built cities… or prisons within ourselves.

46years, it sounds like just a number until you stand at this bend of life and quietly look back. You don’t count birthdays anymore. You count conversations that stayed unfinished. Friendships that slowly disappeared without ever ending. Smiles that became formal. People who remained in your contact list but quietly left your life years ago.

And then one question keeps returning to me.

What happened to us?

When did we become so careful?

When did we begin wearing masks so comfortably that we forgot what our real face looked like? Sometimes I look around and I don’t see a lack of people. I see a lack of openness. The world has become crowded, but strangely, loneliness has become the most common language.

Some people surround themselves with large groups—not because they have many friends, but because crowds make them look important.

Some endlessly display success, vacations, luxury cars, promotions and achievements—not because they are fulfilled, but because silence might reveal how lonely they truly are.

Others speak very little, carrying oceans inside them, convinced nobody will understand.

The irony?

All three are equally alone.

What exactly stops us from saying what we truly feel?

Why is it easier to assume than to ask?

Why is it easier to judge than to understand?

Why do we let friendships die quietly instead of making one uncomfortable phone call?

Perhaps because somewhere along the way, our image became more valuable than our relationships.

We no longer ask, or say
“Are you okay?” “I am not”..

Instead we ask ourselves,
“How will I look if I say this?”

We have become custodians of carefully designed personalities.

We edit ourselves before speaking.

We calculate reactions before expressing emotions.

We protect reputations more fiercely than friendships.

And the saddest part…

Many of us don’t even realize we’re doing it.

There is a beautiful line often attributed to Irish poet Oscar Wilde:

“A true friend stabs you in the front.”

The meaning isn’t violence.

It is honesty.

A true friend doesn’t smile in front of you and criticize you behind your back.

They tell you the truth directly because they value the friendship more than temporary comfort.

Somewhere, we replaced honesty with diplomacy.

And diplomacy slowly replaced friendship.

I often think of my childhood.

Back then friendships were wonderfully uncomplicated, we fought in the morning and by evening we were sharing mangoes, cricket bats and secrets again.

Nobody unfollowed anyone. Nobody blocked anyone. Nobody preserved an ego for six months because someone said something, that they didn’t like…

There was no strategy. No image management. No emotional accounting.

Only living, only forgiving, only moving on…

Perhaps because children don’t carry masks.

Adults do.

And the worst part it is termed as part of adulthood

Even today, whenever I travel through villages, I notice something beautiful.

Life moves slower, people laugh louder, doors remain open.

Someone can walk into your house without sending a calendar invitation.

Tea appears before questions; conversations begin without agendas. Of course, rural life has its own complexities and challenges and it isn’t perfect. But there is often a simplicity in human interaction that cities quietly lose.

Sometimes I wonder…

Did we only pour concrete into buildings?

Or did we slowly pour concrete into our hearts as well?

Our cities became vertical.

Our relationships became superficial.

We have Wi-Fi in every room, yet no connection across the dinner table, we know everyone’s achievements. we know almost nobody’s fears and failures.

What scares us so much about revealing ourselves? Our secrets? Our failures? Our confusion?

Isn’t it fascinating that every human being is carrying hidden battles, yet each believes they must hide them to be accepted?

We are all actors applauding each other’s performances, very few dare to step off the stage. Maybe that’s why genuine people often feel out of place.

People who speak their heart without rehearsing, people who apologize quickly, people who forgive easily, people who say – “I was wrong”, “I miss you”, “You hurt me”, “I love you”, “Let’s not lose this friendship over assumptions.”

Strangely, these people are often labelled as emotional, immature or naïve.

Urban life rewards polished conversations.

It rarely rewards honest ones.

Perhaps assumptions are more entertaining than truth, judgements make better coffee-table discussions, gossip creates temporary belonging.

Truth demands courage.

The Persian poet Jalaluddin Rumi wrote:

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.”

And I think friendship lives in that field.

Not where egos keep score, not where people remember every mistake, not where everyone competes to be right, but where understanding becomes more important than winning.

Another timeless thought by Khalil Gibran has stayed with me over the years:

“Friendship is always a sweet responsibility, never an opportunity.”

Today friendship has quietly become transactional.

Who called first? Who wished first? Who helped more? Who benefited? Who invited whom? Who posted whose picture? Everything is measured and nothing is simply felt.

So, as I stand at forty-six, I ask myself a difficult question.

Should I leave this world? Should I walk away from people who live behind carefully decorated masks? Should I become distant?

Or…

Should I become plastic myself so I fit in?

The answer doesn’t come easily.

Life has taught me that changing the world is almost impossible, but choosing how I exist within it is still my freedom, perhaps I only need a handful who allow silence without misunderstanding, who ask instead of assuming, who listen instead of judging, who stay instead of calculating, who value truth over appearances. If such people are rare, then maybe rarity is exactly what makes them precious.

As I begin my forty-seventh year, I no longer wish to impress rooms, I wish to protect conversations, I wish to become lighter, to speak what I feel without carrying yesterday into tomorrow, to apologize when needed, to forgive before pride hardens into permanent distance. To choose people who can laugh loudly, disagree respectfully and still share tea afterward.

Beacuse life is already difficult , but friendship should not be…

Maybe the greatest rebellion in today’s world is not becoming richer,

Not becoming more influential.

Not becoming more successful.

Maybe the greatest rebellion is becoming authentic.

To say what you feel.

To hear what hurts.

To clear misunderstandings before assumptions become history.

To live without masks in a world that sells disguises.

I don’t know whether the world will become simpler again.

But I know one thing.

The day we stop protecting our image more than our relationships…

the day we replace assumptions with conversations…

the day we choose vulnerability over performance…

we may not change society.

But we might save ourselves from slowly turning into the very concrete we built around our hearts—before time lays us beneath it forever.