The toad did nothing. The frog sat next to him.
That line makes complete sense to me now.
“Where are you?”
“Room. Watching reels.”
“Come.”
“Coming.”
That is the full strategy. No discussion. No planning. I walk a few rooms down the corridor. I sit in the chair. He sits on the bed. Phones out. Silence begins.
We scroll like it is a competitive sport. Every few minutes, one of us says, “Bro, look at this,” and shows the other something completely useless. A dog dancing. A bad meme. A life hack we will never use.
Around us, people plan things properly. They go to matches. They organise trips. They step out with purpose. Their evenings have direction. Ours has WiFi.
Sometimes we go out for tea. Sometimes we say we will go out for tea and never move. Both outcomes feel equally productive.
After a long stretch of doing absolutely nothing, one of us will randomly sit up and announce an idea. It could be a business plan. It could be a theory about how to redesign the hostel system. It could be the worst idea ever said out loud. We treat all three with the same seriousness.
Five minutes later, back to scrolling.
People ask how we are not bored. I genuinely do not know how to explain it. It is like your phone being on low brightness. Nothing dramatic. Just easy on the eyes.
There is no pressure to talk. If I have nothing to say, I say nothing. If he has nothing to say, he says nothing. No one feels the need to fill the room with sound just to prove the friendship is alive.
We also argue about the most pointless things. Which mess serves better food? Which reel algorithm is superior? Whether we would survive a zombie apocalypse or give up in ten minutes. These debates last exactly as long as our attention spans.
Sometimes we sit in the same room and send each other reels instead of speaking. He laughs on his side of the room. I laugh at mine. Eye contact is optional.
We have perfected the art of parallel living. He studies. I pretend to study. I complain about assignments. He nods like a wise monk. No solutions are offered. Just an acknowledgement. And vice versa.
We do not meet to create memories. We meet because the other person is there. That is it. No agenda. No theme. No bullet point for the night.
The best part is the randomness. In the middle of silence, one of us might say something so absurd that we end up laughing for ten straight minutes. Then we calm down and return to our separate screens, as if nothing had happened.
It is low maintenance. It is low effort. It is highly comfortable.
Some friendships run on adventure. Ours runs on proximity. If he says “Come,” I go. If I say “Come,” he comes. That is the system.
The toad did nothing. The frog sat next to him.
No fireworks. No dramatic speeches. Just two people in a hostel room, existing side by side, occasionally saving the world in theory, mostly sending each other bad reels.
And somehow, that is more than enough.
“Da, I’m on my way. Keep your door unlocked,”