Neel would dance his fave step with panache, when no one's looking at work, in that photocopy enclosure for his seating space, as he listens to Arnob or Manna De buried in his laptop screen. He's noisy when he laughs his nasal laughter, loud in expression (read: foulest sprinkling through a 20-minute lunch chatter), yet his ways are quiet, calm even.
He's not a loner, but in his body language, you sense a looking down upon yourself for being the dud you ARE. And he knows you: smart, stupid, emotional (read: stupid), practical (read even more stupid), brilliant, happy, melancholy, miracle maker, heart breaker, funny, never-boring, all-knowing, wise.
So, why the rant about some colleague/ friend at office? Because, my dear, as I began, this city often ignores this extremely entertaining yet endearing variety of individuals, who you must be lucky to come across, yet, merrily dissolve into the flow that throngs the Mantralaya-to-Churchgate parade every evening. One more virtue that resurrects Bombay for me. It shelters quirks. All sorts.