They are not friends on Facebook

Today, Meherji is 83 and rarely travels beyond her neighbourhood in south Mumbai. Fluent in French, she retired years ago from Bhabha Atomic Research Centre (BARC) as a French translator and lives alone. She has two children — a son is settled abroad and a daughter resides in western Mumbai suburbs. More, 27, a St Xavier alumni, lives in Prabhadevi and was pursuing music full time before branching out as a real estate agent.

In the hustle and bustle of Mumbai’s busy streets, the two try and meet whenever they can — “at least thrice a year”, says More. Otherwise, they talk on the phone. While More uses a voice-enabled iPhone, she counts on her trusty landline connection. In all these years, they have come to know each other well and follow developments in each other’s life regularly.

Early this month, on a Thursday evening as the sun was about to set, Meherji called up More to share some “good news”. “She called to say that her son was returning home for the winter break. I thought it would be best to meet since she was too excited over the phone,” recalls More. Within minutes, they met at their favourite hangout, Kyani and Co, Irani Cafe, and called for pudina chai. “We also meet at Sassanian in Marine Lines sometimes. They make excellent chicken patty,” says Meherji.

Looking back, More says that the first time they met, no phone numbers were exchanged. Meherji guided him, when he told her that he was on his way to practise the piano at Furtado’s, south Mumbai’s iconic music parlour. She decided to walk him to the store. “When she asked me, I just nodded and said we can go together,” says More. A few days later, a handwritten note arrived, asking him to call on a phone number. “We spoke a lot that day,” says Meherji. He calls her “sharp and witty”, she refers to him as a “sincere kid”.

Since that first interaction, the two have shared a common interest. As music director Vistasp Balsara’s sister, Meherji appreciates a good tune. “I went to Furtados one day and found that he plays the piano very well,” she says, between mouthfuls of palak khichdi. More has brought her to a new haunt this time, Panchratna, located right behind Sassanian. Even to a casual bystander, their friendship looks special. She knows his circle of friends, he knows that she loves methi. There is an errand they are yet to complete. “She is yet to come home to eat methi the way my mother cooks. Methi only grows in monsoon, and I don’t want her to get hurt travelling during the rains,” says More.

Soon after they met, they began attending concerts together. Once unknown to each other, they even caught the same bus, Meherji from Colaba, he from Worli, to go to a show. “Imagine, no? We didn’t coordinate. We were expected to meet at the venue,” she chuckles.

It’s a task to get Meherji to venture outside of south Mumbai, says More. “There are days when Sheroo doesn’t leave home except to spend time at the Parsi temple,” he says. Having spent a “good life” on the road, Meherji says most days are spent getting nostalgic about “travel memories with my late husband”. There are days when her daughter visits her, and on other days, there is always that phone call she makes to More.

The conversation never ends. In their meetings, talk is centred around food, and music or the Vipassana course More has completed — they learn new aspects of each other’s life. “We talk. I don’t think people do that anymore,” says Meherji.

There is something charming about an old friendship, especially when it’s just to “talk and tell that I have your back”. For onlookers — who watch them chat —there is something beautiful about the way Meherji teases him about his weight, and he asks her to cut her Parsi sarcasm. Meherji says she doesn’t understand the new world —where meetings are impersonal, friendships vulnerable, and personal spaces backed by the social media. The two have navigated most developments in their life by simply staying in touch.

Meherji now wants More to keep his schedule free for the open air music show in south Mumbai, held at the Gateway of India. “But he never wakes up on time for that. It’s always in the morning,” she says. His day job as a real estate agent now keeps More busy. He says he ventured to a stable profession where he could go independent while still keeping his passion for music alive. The best thing, he says, about their relationship is that “she never complains”. “There is always something perfect about sharing experiences, lives. I don’t see that any more,” he adds. As we get ready to leave the restaurant, Meherji calls us back. “Don’t make a big issue of this. It’s plain old friendship. Normal stuff. Why make such a big deal of this?”