PEOPLE do brave things like climbing the mountains, running the rapids, tearing into burning buildings; and then completely turning into cowards, unable to ask who is on the phone line because, what, that doesn’t look nice so we wrestle through a whole convo in the dark. I am like that. Custard yellow.

Got a call this morning, faintly familiar voice saying, heyy, lonnng time, how you doing, old friend.

And I am saying, heeey, yessss, longggg time; hey, buddy good to hear you. He called me old friend, I can’t ask him who he is. Not now, not done, bad form. So, become a big shot; huh, no time for all of us small fry, he says, all jolly and intimate.

Dispatch heavy, hearty denial from my side. Nonsense. Of course not; how could I, just been a bit busy, always time for an old friend.

How’s the wife and the kids, believe you are a grandfather now.

Uh huh (who are you?)

That must be fun, your back still giving you trouble (good grief, he even knows about my bad back?).

Off and on, haha, you know how it is, old age and all that.

You telling me, man, remember when we were young and full of sap (childhood friend?).

Yaaa, those were the days (where, Delhi, Mumbai, Dubai, where were those flipping days, give me a clue).

By now you have crossed the line of no return. It would be the height of bad manners to dare even contemplate asking who it is, not after your back and sap and grand-parenting have been water under the bridge.

So you continue groping in the abyss.

In town for a while...?

Yeppp, at least a week, we have to meet, no getting away with it this time, so much to catch up, I said to myself, we will do dinner, the old girl is with me (aaaaaaah, mention her name, you twit and put me out of my misery) how does Monday sound, just the four of us.

Sounds good (what else can I say, I am already riddled with guilt).

Your place, okay, you must tell Ambi make that dum aloo dish of hers; it was awesome, tell her I said so.

I will, sure, of course, dum aloo coming up (geez, he’s on nickname basis with my wife).

After discussing Squash and how we have stopped playing, the cost of air tickets and shared an off color weak tea joke he rings off.

Who was that, says my wife.

Dinner on Monday, we have to make dum aloo, he loves your dum aloo.

Yes, but who was it?

I haven’t a clue. But we will know Tuesday, he is coming for dinner. With his wife.