In the distance he could see his old time friend from Kamothe coming in his usual jaunty stride.
It was Yakub with whom Namdeo would spend the weekend in Mumbai. Yakub lived in a small ten by ten room with a tiny kitchen attached. There were three bathrooms and toilets common for all the tenants on the floor in the chawl.
Yakub’s ‘kholi’(room in Marathi), was popular among all visitors from Kamothe as he was a bachelor and loved hosting people from his village. He worked as a commission agent for a printer and was his own boss.
Namdeo was happy to see Yakub, a friend among strangers. As they walked back to Yakub’s house they exchanged gossip about old friends. It was like old times once again, laughter and backslapping, oblivious to the crowds that they had to weave through.
Namdeo had finished bathing and changing into fresh clothes and was transfixed by the continuous hum of activity out on the street as he stood watching out the window while Yakub fixed up a meal. Namdeo had to meet the film producer next morning and Yakub had already briefed him on directions to get there.
Time seemed of little consequence as they chatted through the night and filled up each other on their lives so far.