But when old friends of many years’ standing do meet, then the question assumes the significance of hidden existential meanings.

Old friends are hard to come by, naturally. Time, that eternal tyrant, is also a good judge of genuine friendship. In this world of fast, loose, and furious living in the city, people will look you up if they want something from you. If you have nothing much to offer, as is the case with a retiree like me, then fair-weather friends would evaporate faster than the morning dew on a hot September morning. One does not feel bitter about the fleeting nature of friendship; one accepts it as a human condition.