On Finding Real Connections

I’ve been thinking lately about how I like to spend time with people. Sometimes we socialize just for the sake of it. Other times, it is because we truly enjoy the company. I find the former tiring, but the latter deeply fulfilling. There is something special about being with people who make you think, who listen with intent, and who help you see the world a little differently.

Whether at work or in personal circles, there is always a balance between what you enjoy and what you feel obligated to do. When you reflect on it long enough, deeper questions begin to surface. Do I socialize to grow my network? What does that even mean? Am I looking for a favor somewhere down the line? Or am I just afraid of missing out if I am not part of the local chatter?

These days, most of my new interactions happen through my children. Their friends’ parents are the people I end up spending the most time with. Some of them I genuinely enjoy talking to because we connect on familiar ground. With others, it is more about polite conversation, pleasant enough but without much depth. I have learned not to invest too much effort in relationships that feel forced.

The ones I truly value are the organic ones that unfold naturally over time. Years ago, I used to chant Rudram at the Mahakaleshwar temple in Santa Clara during every Pradosham. A small group would gather regularly, and among them were one or two people I connected with. Several years later, I ran into one of them again at my son’s school. Our boys were classmates, and as we spoke, we discovered how much we had in common: Rudram, Malleswaram, Bangalore, Vedanta, Sringeri, and so much more.

Even now, though we rarely meet, all it takes is a short message and the conversation picks up as if no time has passed. That kind of bond lasts because it is rooted in shared values and a sense of familiarity. Even if our children eventually drift apart, I am sure we will stay connected.

Another of my son’s friends has a father from Iran. We never speak of religion or philosophy, yet our views on life seem remarkably similar. Whenever we meet, our conversations go deep. It feels effortless, like we are tuned to the same frequency.

I get along well with most people, and that is important in any community. But to build something lasting, you have to connect without expectations. That is the kind of relationship that stands the test of time. Even if you lose touch for years, it is easy to reconnect and pick up where you left off.

I remember being part of a group conversation recently where everyone was talking about wine tasting and horses. I know nothing about either topic. I listened quietly, smiling at the right moments, but I could not recall a single takeaway afterward. It was harmless, but empty.

Of course, some interactions serve a purpose. Sometimes I talk to other parents to learn about classes or programs for Akhil or Sahana. Those conversations are transactional, and they fade as quickly as they begin. Yet once in a while, something real emerges from them, and that makes it worthwhile.

In the end, every lasting relationship rests on shared context. When there is genuine connection, it does not need constant maintenance. It grows quietly, like roots beneath the surface. The rest, however warm or polite, eventually fades away.