The Four Types of Transnational Friendships

The best letter I have ever received wasn’t one which told me I was being promoted. Nor was it a letter notifying me of a lifetime supply of books from my favourite indie bookshop (although that would have likely come close). Instead, the best letter I have ever received was one that I prized just as much for its envelope as its contents.

It was a characteristically hot Omani summer. I was in the sixth grade and in my posing-awkwardly-for-photographs era. (I thought I was cool, and this phase lasted for more years than I would care to admit). A classmate from India had just written me a missive. On the envelope, patterned in little pink-and-blue flowers, she had penned a grave entreaty to the postman. It read:  

“Postman, Postman, be a sweetie,

Deliver this letter, and make me happy.”

Twenty-seven years have passed since I received this letter. I sadly cannot recall its precise contents. It is sure to have contained riveting details of family holidays, fresh reading adventures, and a litter of wild kittens discovered in a crotchety neighbour’s backyard.

Mulling over the simple days of writing letters and competing with each other for the first rank (yes, I was one of those), I marvel at the seamlessness of friendships as they cut across multiple national borders. That was, and still is, the beauty of the transnational friendship.

The transnational friendship is a ubiquitous feature in the life of migrants, recurring across myriad demographic and socioeconomic groups worldwide. As a migration researcher, I have often wondered why the subject of transnational friendship receives such little import. When governments fail to provide during a pandemic, it is typically a worker’s friend in a labour camp (often from another geography) who shoves any spare supplies into his palms.

Upon migrating, the spirals and walls of hatred that we construct around ourselves might look a little different too. On several occasions, I have interviewed a low-wage Indian worker who provides the phone number of his Bangladeshi or Pakistani friend as an emergency contact. These things are fluid of course: when it comes to cricket, all bets are off.

This weekend, I thought about my own transnational friendships, spanning many decades and continents as a white-collar migrant. My transnational friendships fall into four key buckets (see graph below).

(Disclaimer: The above data is anecdotal but likely still more reliable than the ECI during the recent Indian election)

1)      The Hearty Biryani Friendship:

My first type of transnational friendship is like a wholesome meal of mutton biryani (with some caramelized onions on top). These friendships tend to be old ones, forged when I was younger and much less of a grouch. Perhaps age is what allows for these friendships to cut across several personal differences, even in big arenas such as faith, sometimes even in political ideology. We catch up over a phone call twice a year. Our discussions are less about Joseph Stiglitz’s latest book and more about how we are finally getting our posteriors (which have also aged) back into our exercise routine. One of us complains about how our boss stinks (a still all-too-common international disease, especially in anti-union establishments). We laugh, a lot. These friendships are relatively rare and unfailing in their deliciousness: a warm hug to the stomach regardless of the passage of time.

2)      The Gin-and-Healing Friendship:

My second type of transnational friendship is like a crisp glass of gin with a slice of cucumber after a somewhat bothersome day. I typically forged these friendships later in life. All of them are women. In personality, each is a brilliant-and-hilarious woman; the sort who battles human rights abuses in hairy contexts but calls you when there’s a gargantuan spider in the bathroom. These all-weather friends never go out of style, regardless of the continent in which they reside. If you are having a crisis, they will speak to you on a Zoom call until 2 am in their time zone (with occasional phone static in the background as they load the dishwasher and you water the plants). These friendships are the opposite of the ones in Hollywood movies which depict women as perennial enemies, warring over an arbitrary male with the personality of a sluggish kitchen exhaust fan. These friendships are also healing: they hold your hand as you mourn the loss of a pet, and celebrate with you during those shining moments that warrant a smidge of champagne.

3)      The Chocolate Mousse Friendship:

Perhaps the bulk of my transnational friendships are chocolate mousse friendships. We often fall out of touch, but every encounter is just as sweet (with some salt for zing). Two years pass and we miss out on someone having their second child. One fine morning, as you are listening to music whilst spring cleaning, your playlist reminds you of a song you went nuts over during your days rooming together at a Chennai women’s hostel. You drop each other a line and finally meet when in the same city. You catch up on life’s scars and its triumphs- also about odious chores like shifting to a new house. You giggle and talk about how amongst life’s scars and triumphs, the process of shifting houses is akin to life’s pimples. These friendships wear easily because ties forged over braving hair-clogged bathrooms in college hostels renders you fellow warriors for life.

4)      The Congealed Fridge Vegetables Friendship:

My last type of transnational friendship is not unlike an unrecognized fridge vegetable that you should have tossed last week but promptly forgot. It now emits a strange odour that you have never smelled: maybe you can finally become a billionaire by selling the odour to Chanel. These congealed fridge veggie friendships fed you well whilst alive, but have now passed their ability to provide you with good nutrition. Consumption may result in asphyxiation for either party so they are best kept aside. I do not regret any of these friendships, as each of them taught me something as I grew and evolved, enriching my life in several ways. But sometimes, even friendships can be outgrown.

Regardless of their category, transnational friendships have nurtured me through moves across multiple countries and through the process of building a new life in a new place: a slower process for me as I get older. I have never exactly been an introvert, but making meaningful friendships is harder now than it ever was in the sixth grade. We may not be writing letters to each other anymore and there may be a fewer stories about wild kittens.

But as far as I’m concerned, a 2-am WhatsApp call with a dishwasher humming in the background more than warms the tummy.