The Friendship Fallacy: Should You Really Ditch Your Unsuccessful Friends?

We’ve all heard the advice, a cornerstone of the self-help world: “You are the average of the five people you spend the most time with.”

The logic feels sound, almost mathematical. If your four closest friends are fitness fanatics, you’ll likely be the fifth. If they are all entrepreneurs talking growth, you’ll start thinking bigger. The flip side is the warning: if your four friends have failed, you will be the fifth.

It’s a powerful idea. A clean, simple rule for curating a life of success.

But then, real life intervenes. Life is not clean, and it is rarely simple. 

The Questions We Should All Be Asking

"What should one do when in life you find your friends in pain? They have failed now but weren't losers always. Is it that you should avoid such friends, and stick around only the successful ones? And what if your successful friends go around finding more successful ones and treat you the same? Is it even real?"

This isn't just a question; it's a test of character. It challenges us to decide what we value more: a ruthlessly optimized life or one rich with loyalty, compassion, and true human connection.

Let’s unpack this.

The Critical Flaw in a Flawless Rule

The "average of five" rule works beautifully on paper because it correctly identifies that we are deeply influenced by our environment. Mindsets are contagious. Habits are normalized by our peers. In this, the advice is correct.

But its fatal flaw is that it fails to account for adversity. It treats people as assets or liabilities, as stocks to be held or sold based on their current performance. Life, however, is lived in seasons. Everyone, without exception, will face a season of failure, of grief, of pain.

Here's a more compassionate and effective way to think about it.

The Crucial Distinction: Is It a State or a Trait?

Before you decide whether a friendship is "pulling you down," you must make a crucial distinction. Are they defined by a permanent trait of negativity, or are they going through a temporary state of hardship?

 * The Good Friend in a Bad Place (A State): This is a person with a good heart and a strong character who has hit a wall. They lost their job, their business failed, or they're navigating a painful breakup. They are struggling. These are not the friends you abandon. This is when your friendship is forged in fire. This is your moment to prove what your loyalty is worth.

 * The Chronically Negative Person (A Trait): This is the person the original maxim is truly about. This individual has a permanent trait of victimhood. Nothing is ever their fault. They drain your energy, mock your ambition, and consistently reject any advice or help. They don't want a ladder out of their hole; they want company in it.

Distancing yourself from a person with a permanent negative trait is an act of self-preservation. Abandoning a good friend in a temporary state of failure is an act of betrayal.

How to Act with Integrity: A Better Path Forward

So, what do you do when a good friend is in a bad place? You don't become the "fifth failure." You become their first hope.

 * Be the Influence, Not Just the Influenced: The rule assumes you are a passive sponge. You are not. Your positive energy, your belief in them, and your resilience can be the very influence they need. Instead of being pulled down, you can be the one who lifts them up.

 * Support, Don't Enable: There is a world of difference between these two actions.

   * Support sounds like: "This is tough, and it's okay to feel this way. I believe in you. Let's look at your resume together when you're ready."

   * Enabling sounds like: "You're right, the world is unfair and everything is pointless. Let's just forget about it."

     Support empowers them to get back up. Enabling encourages them to stay down.

 * Recognize Real Success vs. Transactional Networking: The question, "What if my successful friends leave me for someone more successful?" is brilliant because it exposes the transactional nature of the rule when followed blindly. Someone who drops friends based on their current status is not a "successful" person; they are a cold networker. True success includes character. Real friends don't just celebrate your victories; they help you navigate your defeats. Anyone who would leave you in a moment of weakness was never your friend to begin with.

The Verdict: Is It Even Real?

The influence of our peers is very real.

But the idea that you should curate your life by cutting out anyone who is currently struggling is a fantasy that creates a fragile, shallow, and lonely existence.

Don't abandon your friends when they fall. Life is long, and the roles may one day be reversed. The true measure of your life won't be the success you achieved, but the loyalty you showed. The true strength of your friendships won't be measured in the good times, but in how you weathered the bad ones, together.

छूटी हुई तक़दीर!!

 

कहाँ थी तू, जब तक़दीरें बट रहीं थीं?

किस सोच में डूबी, किस कोने में खड़ी थी?

कैसे फिसल गई हाथों से, वो जो लकीर तेरी थी?

​अब रोती है पगली, कि क्यूँ सब वीरान लगता है,

पर ग़लती तो तेरी थी, तूने ही कहाँ ध्यान रखा था?

जो ज़ाहिर था ज़माने पर, क्या तुझको वो ज्ञान न था?

अब आँसुओं से क्या होगा, जब सब कुछ छोड़ जाने का वक़्त आया है।

​समय रहते तूने अपने हक़ में कोई ज़िद न की,

अब क्या ज़िद करेगी भला, जब तेरी कोई बात ही न रही?

शायद तेरे हिस्से में बस यही बेबसी थी।

​क्या तू मगरूर थी, जो ये सब तेरा गुरूर तोड़ने को हुआ?

किसी को लगा होगा ये तेरा अभिमान था,

पर तूने तो बस दिल से हर कोशिश को जिया।

​तक़दीर में होता, तो सब हासिल होता,

तक़दीर ही न थी, तो कुछ भी न मिला।

कोशिश तो पूरी थी, पर किसी का साथ न था,

शायद तू उतनी अच्छी न थी, या किसी को भाया तेरा साथ न था।

​खैर, जो भी हो, तूने ये वक़्त गुज़ार लिया,

किसी बुरे सपने की तरह,

इस ज़िन्दगी को जी लिया।

अब बस रुलाना है उसे, जिसने तुझे तक़दीर देने से इनकार किया।

The scars we call strength!!

 I came across an article today listing the nine life experiences that forge the mentally strong. As I read through the list, it felt less like a quiz and more like a summary of my own chapters.

Losing someone you loved deeply... Yes, I lost my father. I watched him in pain for a long time before he left us.

Facing the crushing weight of financial struggle... Yes, I did manage well so far but still this haunts.

Navigating the sting of rejection... Yeah, both personally and professionally.

Healing from a heartbreak ... Yes, I don't know if it reshaped me or not but that pain is an integral part of me now.

Overcoming the silent battle of mental health issues... Yes, I did and I am watchful of my behaviour after this.

Starting over in a new and unfamiliar place... Yes, I did it though this came easily for me. I did it for a new job offer. 

Finding the courage to stand up for yourself... The situation forced me to defend myself and force others to accept their wrong behaviour towards me. I didn't like it nor would like that to ever happen again. 

Surviving the humbling experience of failure... Yes, even though I choose it .. it still feels like failure 

And watching a cherished dream slip through your fingers... Of course.many small dreams I gave up and don't really think about it now. Although I can fulfill I no longer feel like it. 

The list was meant to be affirming, a testament to resilience. Yet, I'm left with a profound question: What is the purpose of this hard-earned strength?

With every trial, a piece of the hopeful, courageous person I once was seems to have been chipped away. The challenges haven't ended, and I find myself still walking a long, uncertain road with no destination in sight. I'm left to wonder, why does life demand we learn so much by taking so much away? If this is what it means to be strong, where does one find the strength to keep going?

A prayer in the puzzle!!

 

Oh Maa Durge, the grace I thought I knew,

Now feels a shade of some less certain hue.

What I once held as blessings, gifts from you,

No longer feels so simple, or so true.

​Does this hardship, this path I must endure,

Stem from a moment when my heart, unsure,

Dared to be angry? A fleeting, fragile ire

Against your own unconquerable fire?

​This life you gave, a puzzle incomplete,

With every forward step, marks a retreat.

I try to build a picture, whole and grand,

And find more pieces slipping through my hand.

​I have no map, no compass, and no sign,

To say if this dark road is wrong or right.

Yet baby steps I take into the grey,

Believing you will guide me through the day.

​

But hollow is the echo in my soul,

A vacant ache that leaves me far from whole.

How do I change what I don't understand?

How do I calm the tremors in this inner land?

​How do I serve when I feel drained and bare,

And give out goodness from a well of air?

So teach me what you wish for me to learn,

The reason for this slow and painful turn.

​What I'm to gain from all this hidden strife,

Show me the purpose, Mother, of this life.

The Unanswerable Questions of a Hospital Waiting Room!!

 A movie found me yesterday. It was called “Waiting,” and it tells the story of two strangers connected by the shared, silent anxiety of a hospital waiting room. With their spouses in critical condition, their conversations drift into the deep, unanswerable questions of life, forcing them—and me—to confront one of life’s most difficult questions: what does it mean to truly love someone at the end?

The film’s quiet intensity was a mirror, reflecting a period in my life that I can never forget. In the space of just one month, my world was upended by loss. First, it was my father. The memory is still sharp: watching him suffer through a long night as we frantically searched for a hospital bed. Once he was admitted, the pandemic built a wall between us. Our only connection was a video call. In our last call, he looked serene, almost smiling in his sleep. Was it the medicine that eased his pain, a pain he couldn't hide when we were by his side? I hold onto that image of peace, a stark contrast to the helplessness we felt.

A month later, grief visited again. My father-in-law, a doctor and my father’s old classmate, was in the ICU. We rushed to see him one last time, but we were too late. A doctor met us in the waiting area with the news. When we stepped inside his room, a machine was still breathing for him. His chest rose and fell in a steady, mechanical rhythm. “He is gone,” the doctor said softly, gesturing to the flat lines on the monitor. “We just haven’t turned off the ventilator.”

It was a chilling sight, one a friend had described to me when her husband was terminally ill. She spoke of the moment her brother had to explain that it was time to let him go, that keeping the machines on was no longer an act of hope, but a delay of the inevitable.

How does one make that choice? Your heart, full of emotion and memory, screams to hold on. Your brain, the seat of logic, whispers that it’s time to let go. The film captures this internal war perfectly through its characters. It shows that in the face of such a decision, logic feels like a betrayal, and emotion feels like an impossible burden.

Watching that movie, I realized that some of life’s greatest lessons come from these moments of powerlessness. They remind you that despite all we learn and all we think we know, we are often just beginners, struggling to keep pace with a world that changes in the beat of a heart.

The one thought that saved my life!!

On World Suicide Prevention Day, we talk about hope and reaching out. But I want to talk about the moment before hope returns—the moment you have to find a reason to survive the next five minutes. I know that moment because I’ve lived it.

It began with a loss. I had anchored my heart to a future that could never be, and when the illusion shattered, so did I. A heavy depression descended, and in its grip, my own life felt like a burden I had to set down.

It was a quiet morning. The sun was rising, and only one of my roommates was in our flat. The thought of going to our building's five-story rooftop wasn't just a thought anymore; it was a plan. But as I considered it, my eyes landed on my roommate.

She was just living her day, completely oblivious to the fact that my world was ending. And then it hit me: my final act would become the beginning of her nightmare. The police, the questions, the guilt, the trauma. My attempt to escape my pain would become a permanent source of hers.

In that instant, I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't be the person who destroyed someone else's peace for my own. It wasn't a grand revelation or a sudden return of hope. It was a simple, stubborn refusal to cause collateral damage. Ending your own life, I realized, is an attempt to outrun your pain, but that pain doesn't just disappear—it transfers to those you leave behind.

Life is still a complex journey. That deep sense of loss has become a part of my story, a quiet ache that I carry. I still grieve for what might have been. But I’ve never forgotten the lesson of that morning: sometimes, the will to live isn't for yourself. Sometimes, you hold on for the person in the other room. And in time, you learn to hold on for yourself again.

If you are in that dark place, please know I understand. And know that even if you can't see a reason for you, there is always a reason. Look for it. It might be smaller than you think, but it is just as powerful.

There are many helplines available who would listen to you without judgement. Consider speaking to them before you take any decision. 

Handmade with love and shared with joy !!

 It seems the little crocheted ball I made for my son’s lunch bag had an adventure of its own today—right into the hands of a new friend!

​When he came home, I noticed it was missing. After a little hesitation, he shared that he’d given it to his classmate, Shivaansh. My first thought? "Well, that's what kids do!" You can't really be mad at a generous heart.

​So, while he was busy with his homework, I quietly got out my crochet hook to whip up a replacement. But as the familiar round shape began to form, a new idea sparked. Why make just another ball? With a few extra stitches and a tiny green leaf, the simple sphere transformed into a cute little fruit!

​Here’s how it turned out. I secretly hope he keeps this little guy for himself, but if these handmade charms become his way of making friends and sharing joy, I think I’d be just as happy. A mother's heart is a funny thing, isn't it?

Crocheted ball keychain!!

 My son's favorite moon-shaped keychain, which was attached to his lunch bag, broke today. It was a small rubber charm, and he was so attached to it that he insisted I fix it. Since it was broken, there was no way to repair it. So, I decided to make him a crocheted ball to replace the old charm.

I had to search for the crochet floss I'd used when he was born, but once I found it, it only took a few minutes to crochet a new, lightweight ball. It's a perfect replacement for the old charm. I'm hoping he loves it!

 

A smile borrowed from past!!

 Suman's day started at 3 a.m. thanks to some very enthusiastic Ganapati Visarjan firecrackers. As if that wasn't enough, she also had a terrible cough. She was so out of it that she didn't even check the time, just thought, "Alright, I guess I'll get ready and make breakfast." By the time she was done brushing her teeth, she glanced at the clock—3:30 a.m. Seriously? She went straight to the couch and managed to sleep until 6.

​Once she was finally up for real, she decided to make the day special for Abhinav's birthday. She cooked up a storm: puri and ghuguni for breakfast, and palau and shahi paneer for lunch. And she mentally noted to order chicken biryani too. She savored her breakfast with a warm cup of ginger tea, feeling a sense of peace.

​After breakfast, Suman decided to wear a new dress. It had been sitting in her closet for ages, a silent testament to a bad shopping decision. She put it on after her bath and sat down with a coffee. Suddenly, a memory hit her.

​She could almost hear Abhinav's voice, his usual sarcastic tone. "What is that you're wearing? It’s not good. You look so fat." She'd roll her eyes and say, "I know, that’s why I’m just wearing it at home!" They'd go back and forth, a silly, familiar game. He'd ask if no one sees her at home, and she'd confess that the dress was a bad choice—comfy but not at all flattering. The conversation would end with her admitting she'd probably wear it a few times and then give it away.

​But that's not what happened in real. Today, her husband didn't say a word. He didn't even seem to notice she was wearing something different. Suman misses those small moments of being seen, even if it was through a sarcastic jab. She missed the feeling of smiling for no reason, of being noticed. Her brain goes back to those memories now and then, just to give her a little smile. And sometimes, that's enough.

Creative acts as soul curry!!

Some days, you just have to lean into the beautiful chaos of life. Today was one of those days. Despite my child being home sick from school, I decided to swap our usual routine for something a little more special. I cooked a delicious, multi-course lunch, including a special batch of jeera rice just for me, and made a new kind of breakfast we don't usually have.

With my little one's help, we made the most of a day at home. Even when sickness made him a bit stubborn, I was surprised to find a new level of patience within myself. It felt great to navigate the day with a sense of calm.

Later, while he was doing his schoolwork, I tapped into my creative side. I grabbed two old flowerpots and gave them a vibrant, fresh coat of paint. It's a small way I try to reuse things instead of throwing them away and adding more to our planet's garbage. It was so satisfying to give them a new life!

As the day came to an end, a quiet sense of contentment settled over me. While my reality hadn't changed, my mindset had. It was incredible how much peace I found in these small, creative acts—from the meal I cooked to the pots I painted. These little bursts of creativity truly felt like a "soul curry" for the day, nourishing my spirit and reminding me that sometimes, the best way to handle chaos is to embrace it.

A beautiful contradiction of chaos!!

 I found myself enjoying the chaos today. A strange kind of pleasure washed over me as I was able to offer support to someone in distress. But now, as I reflect on it, I'm left with some questions.

​Why did I find this so rewarding? Was it just that helping others is a natural mood-booster for me? Or was I feeling a sense of pride, a quiet acknowledgment that I'm still capable of handling these situations?

​This experience didn't change my life, but it did give me a newfound sense of confidence. I'm hoping to stay grounded and not let it morph into overconfidence.

​Interestingly, I've also noticed a shift in myself. I no longer feel the need to seek validation from others and am becoming more comfortable with the fact that not everyone will like me. I have no idea why my perspective has changed so much over time, but it’s led me to a new interest: human psychology. It’s a subject I had no interest in as a student, but now I’m genuinely curious.

​Does this happen to everyone? Do our interests shift with time, or am I alone in this?

When silence becomes too loud!!

Ever feel like your thoughts are a radio that won't turn off? The kind that plays the same overthinking loops on repeat, especially when you have too much free time. It’s easy to feel this way, to question if you’re doing the right thing, or to wish for a higher power to simply give you a task, a purpose, something to keep you so busy you can’t get lost in your head.

Sometimes, the simplest things can trigger an emotional response—a feeling of irritation at something so small it's embarrassing. You might ask yourself, "Why am I not as emotionally resilient as I used to be?" It’s a draining feeling, like you’re just a pawn in someone else’s game, being used up and discarded. There’s a quiet anger that comes from giving and giving until you feel like you've sacrificed your own happiness just to fit in with the crowd. You look around and see people with their own struggles, but yours feels uniquely heavy.

The weight often comes from placing too much value on others. You invest your time and energy into people, only to be met with pain. It's a scary and anxious feeling when your best efforts don't seem to make a difference. We all make choices hoping for a good outcome, but the results are never guaranteed. That’s where luck comes in. It’s the luck of getting your dream job, of finding people who truly value you, of having help arrive when you need it most. These are gifts that we can't force or demand; they just have to flow.

But then, you see stories of extreme misfortune, like the recent news of a woman set on fire in front of her six-year-old son. You see a beautiful person and can't find a flaw, yet her life was destroyed by a toxic situation. People who do such things will always find absurd ways to justify their actions. It makes you feel helpless. We can't change them, but we can choose how we respond. We can either be a victim or walk away. It often feels like women are unfairly burdened with the expectation to be selfless and sacrificing.

All the news, all the stories of crime, can make you overthink it all, be it the crimes against women or crimes caused by women themselves. What is right and what is wrong? Who defines it? Why do some get rewarded while others are punished for the same actions?

It’s a strange contradiction—a longing to be alone, yet a craving for genuine connection. You want solitude, but you also want the laughter and conversation that lift you up, not the kind that fuels your anger or mood swings. It’s a feeling that has no simple name. It’s the quiet cry for balance, for a way to fill your time and your life with purpose, and for connections that truly matter.

Abhinav's birthday!!

The morning air of September always brings a rush of memories for Suman. It's the month of Anubhav's birthday, a day that now exists only in her mind, yet feels more real than most. He's a part of her, a memory woven into the fabric of her being, as constant as her own thoughts.

She finds herself in the kitchen, a quiet smile on her face. A simple question pops into her mind: "What would I have made for him?" Abhinav was never one for grand gestures or expensive gifts. He just wanted to be with the people he cared about.

But Suman always wanted to give him something special—a meal made just for him. His birthday is in a week, and her mind drifts back to his words about the curd rice his mother used to make. Suman wishes she could have learned that recipe, a tangible link to his past.

"Tell me what you want for breakfast," she whispers to herself, imagining he's there with her. "Poha? Puri? I’ll make it for you and eat it myself, just for you."

Lunch is another matter entirely. Abhinav was a true foodie. Suman remembers the last time they were together. He was so engrossed in his seafood biryani, completely satisfied, and that's all that mattered to her. She just wanted to see that joy on his face forever.

Now, her life is different. Her husband is a foodie too, but a vegetarian, which limits what she can cook. And her energy isn't what it used to be.

Still, the thought of Anubhav's birthday lingers. After her husband and child leave for the day, she's alone with her thoughts. She can’t help but wish she knew more of his favorite foods. "I’ll order a biryani," she decides. "And eat it all by myself." Her husband won't eat it, and her kid can't handle the spice. It's a special day, a day to celebrate the person who made her feel seen.

We all want to be happy. But the happiness of being truly seen by someone is invaluable.