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“Ram Ram Bhaisahib”

You’re standing in a crowd and you hear an unfamiliar voice call out. There are times when you have an uncanny feeling that the person is addressing you.

This was one of those times. I looked around and noticed a portly, more than middle aged man dressed a dhoti kurta smiling in my direction.

Ram Ram Sahib, he repeated again.

It took me a few seconds to recall who he was. “Ram Ram Munimji” I finally acknowledged loudly.

” I’m seeing you after years”  he said, the broad smile still spread across his face. “you don’t visit Ravi babu’s shop in loha Mandi nowadays”.

I nodded my head slowly and replied “We talk on the phone occasionally….meet up once a year or so”.

Ravi was a schoolmate of mine who has a steel wholesaling business in Loha Mandi, the Iron and steel market.

” Ah, I remember the evenings you used to spend in Ravi …


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