The Definition of Good Friends
A good friend, simply, is the one who gives you fine food, who laughs himself and makes others laugh. The definition is so inclusive and decisive that no ustādh of manṭiq should feel compelled to revise it. Within it you will find neither the intricate knots of Sharḥ Shamsiyyah, nor the hair-splitting of Ḥāshiyah Mullā Jalāl and Mīr Zāhid, nor, indeed, any opening for Buqraṭ to exercise his powers of reflection. Yet, should some latter-day Buqraṭ object, do not first investigate his academic standing; rather enquire into the refinement of his palate. It may well be that the real cause of his philosophical divergence lies in a mere deprivation of good hospitality!
The daylight hours of 16 October 2026 in Nadwat al-‘Ulamāʾ were unusually crowded. From morning till evening one task gave way to another without pause; as soon as one meeting ended, another summons arrived. Time itself behaved like a stern official unaccustomed to granting any request. Providence, however, had already prepared a remedy for our weariness. When night fell, the friends spread a carpet of delight upon which the fatigue of the whole day vanished and the dust of preoccupations was washed away by the dew of smiles.
The evening meal was served in the guest house of Nadwa. After finishing, the natural inclination was to seek rest; yet, at ten o’clock, an invitation reached us from Mawlānā Wathīq Nadwī, Mawlānā Khālid Bāndwī, Mawlānā Nafīs Nadwī and other companions to partake of ice-cream near the Ghantaghar. Tell me, in such a moment is it wisdom to prefer sleep? Sleep visits every night, but how often does one have the chance, late at night, to eat ice-cream with friends? We deferred all temporary impulses of zuhd and qanāʿah and set out. After all, what is life? One is ground in the mill of work all day and then shares a few moments of laughter with friends at night; otherwise, what difference remains between a human being and a machine?
On reaching the Ghantaghar we discovered that the circle of fellowship was far wider than we had expected. Yūsuf bhāʾī and Dr Shams al-Dīn had also arrived. The presence of the respected Nadwī friends from Lucknow — Mawlānā Aḥmad Beg, Saʿūd Aʿẓamī and Luqmān Sandīlawī — adorned the gathering yet further. With every new arrival it was as though another lamp of joy was lit. Salām, handshakes, smiles and unguarded remarks melted the ice of formality, and in the warmth of affection the colours of the company grew ever brighter.
Only the absence of ʿAbd al-Ḥayy ṣāḥib was felt. We learnt that he was engaged at another invitation. We lodged no complaint at the news, for feeding others is included in the very definition of good friends, and the gentleman was, at that moment, composing a practical tafsīr of that trait elsewhere. Here we were watering the tree of love with ice-cream; there he was increasing the splendour of a dining-cloth. It seemed that the services of the brethren had been distributed over different fronts: one holding the line of dinner, another stationed in the sector of sweets, and a third lighting the lamps of companionship through ice-cream. Were this system to be formally organised, even experts in administration might come to study it!
The gathering was laid in the open air. A slight coolness rode the night breeze; the muted shine of the stars overhead, the passers-by on the roads, and the Ghantaghar bathed in lights together made a charming tableau. The city was busy with its nocturnal life, yet our little world was confined to a few friends, a few bowls and countless smiles. Varieties of ice-cream were ordered: one relished a certain flavour, another tested a second, and a third fixed his gaze more on the bowl of the friend beside him than on his own. Such is human nature — content with what is his, yet curious about what is another’s; so long as his own bowl sits before him all is well, but the moment a novel taste appears in a friend’s bowl, the spirit of investigation awakens.
Here, the delight did not lie merely in taste; the true sweetness was in the companionship wherein everyone felt among his own, not among strangers. Someone recalled Nadwa, another recounted an old episode, a third sketched the scene of some bygone gathering, and in another mind a fresh window of memories opened. The conversation travelled from one to another as the spring breeze carries fragrance from branch to branch. Laughter rang out, smiles scattered, and at times a brief sentence set the entire assembly ablaze with mirth.
Feeding others is only one form of the generosity of friends; they also share their time, attention, memories and good humour. There are hosts who offer much food yet maintain such gravity upon their faces as though each morsel were being entered on a ledger. Their dining-cloth is wide, but the lap of their smile is narrow. Others, by contrast, make even a modest cup of tea feel like a royal banquet. The measure of their liberality is not the quantity of food but the breadth of heart. They do not allow you to sense that you are a guest; rather, they seat you as though by your arrival their own gathering has become complete.
It was precisely this unaffectedness of our hosts that formed the real adornment of the night. No formal speeches, no posturing of rank, no wall of forced eloquence — only love, sincerity and the pure pleasure of sitting together. Such a blessing cannot be weighed on the scales of wealth. A man may spend millions on a banquet, yet creating an atmosphere of intimacy is not within everyone’s grasp. With money one may buy ice-cream, but not laughter; one may spread a table, but not open hearts; one may assemble people, but to generate affection among them is another art altogether.
The conversation moved from memories of Nadwa to the social life of Lucknow. Mention Lucknow and references to refinement, courtesy and effortless speech come of themselves. The friends spoke about the city’s circumstances, old recollections and communal conduct. At one point laughter burst forth, at another a serious hush descended, and at another a subtle pinch of irony conveyed its remark without wounding anyone’s heart. Politics too made an appearance, but in that company politics was granted only the place that salt must take in a bowl of ice-cream; the dominant flavour remained friendship, and so it was bound to prevail.
The most pleasant aspect was that no one felt the night passing. The clock’s hands fulfilled their duty, yet we paid no heed to their reports. The night advanced while the lamps of conversation stayed alight. The bowls of ice-cream were emptied, yet the bowls of the heart remained full. The fatigue of the day had slipped away somewhere far, replaced by a freshness that comes neither from medicine nor from long hours of rest. Those few hours were like a luminous marginal note in the book of life at which one may smile for a long time afterwards.
Our definition still stands: good friends are those who offer good food, laugh themselves and make others laugh. By their dining-cloth they lessen hunger, by their speech they lighten sorrow, by their companionship they dispel loneliness and by their generosity they reduce the distances between hearts. In their company food becomes more than nourishment — it becomes a symbol of affection; and laughter becomes more than sound — it becomes the language of closeness between hearts.
If any Buqraṭ still disputes this definition, we respectfully request that he first be treated to dinner in the guest house of Nadwa, then summoned at ten o’clock to the Ghantaghar, seated in the open air, presented with various kinds of ice-cream, the memories of Nadwa refreshed, and given the chance to sit among a few lively-hearted friends. Then let him be asked again what the definition of good friends is. In all likelihood he will gather up his philosophical niceties and arrive at the very same conclusion.
And if, after all that, disagreement persists, the problem surely lies not in the definition but in taste itself!
Amid the bitterness of life, even a little sweetness of friendship is a gift indeed. Fortunate are those who are blessed with such friends as lay a spread before you, open their hearts, revive memories, laugh themselves and make you laugh as well. For the bowl of ice-cream will one day be empty, but the sweetness of a night spent with sincere friends continues to dissolve in the heart for a long, long time.
