The relief visitor at a newsstand

A mutual liking developed,which grew into trust. And with that,one Sunday several years ago,Syed Hashamali Quadri,the newsstand vendor,said he needed to go to the bathroom.

This is no small thing in the world of newspaper vendors,whose narrow domain is packed with goods like magazines,candy and cigarettes but offers no facilities. He asked the diamond dealer,Ralph Bar,whom Quadri had taken to calling Uncle, if he could watch the stand,at 86th Street and Lexington Avenue,New York.

Bar obliged. And so,in a city where morning cartoons,religious services,trendy brunch places,voluminous renderings of the days news and an extra few hours of sleep occupy most people on any given Sunday,the two men began a morning ritual of their own.

Each Sunday,Bar stops by the newsstand on his morning walk. He buys Quadri breakfast and takes over the stand while Quadri goes to relieve himself. The rest of the week,Quadri relies on a network of regulars to watch his stand while he runs to the bathroom,but Bar is the only one with a standing appointment.

The relationship,which Bar estimates dates back about eight years,has been a source of satisfaction for two men who have built an unconventional friendship despite not even knowing the others last name.

They still joke about the first time Bar took over. Not knowing any prices,he adopted the strategy of selling everything for a dollar,from magazines to a 25-cent pack of gum. Dollar,dollar,everything! Quadri recounted.

I tell him if you dont come back quicker,youll be out of business, Bar said with laughter.

Quadri,39,arrived in the US from India about two decades ago,and for the past 10 years,he has run this newsstand seven days a week,from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Bar,81,moved to the United States in 1946 after fleeing Belgium with his family and then living in Cuba. Bar opened his own diamond business,which specialises in buying gems and reselling them abroad.

An eager conversationalist,Bar delights in acquiring friendships,courting captive audiences like doormen,street vendors and whoever is sharing his park bench. On Sundays,he takes medication for his bones,and he follows his doctors advice to take a long walk to start his day.

This Sunday,against a steady stream of joggers,dog walkers and dishevelled locals on a groggy trip for a cup of coffee,the ritual meeting of the two men unfolded again.

Around 7:30 a.m.,as Quadri assembled the Sunday papers,Bar shuffled to the stand from his apartment several blocks away,his rubber-footed cane assisting the effort.

Bar brought Quadri breakfast,not having had to ask what he wanted: a plain,toasted bagel with butter. Quadri handed the older man a folded stack of singles to make change,reminded him about the different costs of items and headed around the corner to a nearby restaurant for a bathroom break.

The handover coincided with a lull in customer traffic. A woman eyed the stand at length and then walked away without buying anything. A man asked for a Daily News,but Bar,confused about the yet-to-be-assembled newspaper,could not find one,and the man left. Another man stopped to offer to buy Quadri coffee,but upon seeing Bar there,offered a hello and moved on.

After a few minutes,Quadri returned. Bar stood around good-naturedly,helping to collect money and making small talk.

At 8:45,the two men waved their goodbyes. Bar shuffled to a nearby diner for breakfast. Quadri continued to peddle newspapers.