There is an invisible layer that affects many friendships in Bengaluru.
That layer is called urban and civic exhaustion.
Friendships don’t fade because people don’t care. They fade because the city quietly drains the energy required to sustain them.
The traffic takes an hour out of your evening. Work spills into what used to be personal time. Weekends become recovery periods rather than social ones.
You start saying things like:
“Let’s meet soon.”
“Next week for sure.”
“Once things settle down.”
Things rarely settle down.
What earlier required a 10 minute auto ride now requires planning, coordination, and stamina. You have to build stamina to be rejected by drivers on apps, to cross under constructed sites, to take long jumps over open drainages and collect dust on your face.
Friendships slowly move from physical spaces to WhatsApp reactions and Instagram replies.
The affection is still there. The intent is still there.
But the civic friction of the city sits between people.
In cities like Bengaluru, maintaining friendships has quietly become an act of effort. And sometimes, effort is the first casualty of urban and civic exhaustion.