what a day it is – a still, sunsteeped afternoon that’s gifted us a convention of pale, cottony clouds and gentle, airbrushed streaks across an extraordinarily vivid sky. amid such beauty a man can sometimes sense a lightness of spirit.

‘i sense a lightness of spirit,’ i tell thakuru as we cross the hulhumale bridge on his bike.

‘if only that made you weigh less,’ he responds, this shameless fat shamer. i think of a retort but the splendour of the day evaporates my enmity and i find myself smiling. what a day to be alive – if poets happen to chance upon a day like this, they will cast aside their mighty pens and engross themselves in the business of taking nudes.

in hulhumale, we head to the hiyaa flats.

‘want to put your helmet under the seat?’ asks thakuru after parking.

‘will it fit with yours in there?’ i say doubtfully.

‘of course, your head’s pretty small,’ he replies and fits one helm into the hollow of the other. it’s like magic. i could never have thought of this. thakuru is clearly a man of sharp spatial intelligence.

‘what’s your IQ?’ i ask him.

‘i’ve never tested,’ he responds carelessly, moving with frightening speed towards the flats. ‘why? have you?’

‘no!’ i respond quickly. too quickly for thakuru smiles. but if you MUST know, my IQ is 105 which is an entire five points higher than average. that’s more than twice the genetic difference between us and the chimps, for perspective.

we enter the building and there’s a fair-sized crowd by the lifts.

‘huh!’ i say. ‘forcing people into this hellhole. how long does it take for a lift to get here?’

‘look at the display, man,’ says thakuru.

and dear lord, the lifts seem to traverse at LEAST three floors a second. soon, we scurry inside one and thakuru presses a button.

the lift is see-through. to counter my nausea from the sight of quickly scrolling floors i read the signs within.

‘hmm, no smoking,’ i say.

‘why doesn’t it say no stabbing?’ says thakuru. ‘or no dealing?’

‘what do you mean?’ i ask.

‘that’s probably what the tenants will be getting up to soon.’

‘what are you talking about?’ i am utterly befuddled.

‘never mind, we’re here,’ he says with a laugh.

we enter an apartment that’s going through a complete makeover.

‘it’s a project i’ve taken on for someone close,’ says thakuru as i examine the place. the sitting room and kitchen are in a narrow but long hallway that opens up to a balcony with sweeping ocean views. next to the hall are small rooms. not tiny, just small.

‘i suppose it’s ok for a family of two. four max. no more,’ i tell him.

‘he’s a single father,’ says thakuru. ‘it’s good enough.’

i know these buildings have been much maligned but this apartment, at least, isn’t THAT bad. like i wouldn’t mind living here. if it’s quiet. and has internet access. and a memory foam mattress. muji sheets. marshall speakers. maybe a box of galler truffles in a mini fridge.

‘truffles in a mini fridge?’ asks thakuru, concerned. ‘you OK husenfulhu?’

goddammit.

‘just thinking out loud,’ i mutter.

‘if you can call them ‘thoughts,“ he says affectionately. ‘i’m done here. good progress. let’s go have some tea.’

when i climb behind him i say: maybe we’ve misjudged yameen. it really wasn’t that bad in there.

‘you know, some of these apartments can get real scary,’ says thakuru.

‘what do you mean?’

‘they subdivide the rooms to fit a family of eight or ten in there. it’s pretty dismal.’

‘wow!’ i say, flabbergasted. ‘how does your friend feel about living in proximity to such poverty?’

‘at least the poor here have balconies and a sea breeze.’

we stop at kick’s for masroshi and i order a strawberry milkshake. they serve us quickly. the milkshake’s decent, thick, creamy. the masroshi meanwhile demands a very public apology.

later, as we pass amin avenue, something bright on a glass panel of a penthouse catches my eye.

‘my god it’s a TOWEL!’ i say. ‘like one you’d get for a hundred bucks from agora.’

‘tackiness is a lifelong ailment,’ says thakuru. ‘it has no cure even admist refinement.’

how ’bout that? even thakuru’s wisdom rhymes. what a man. and WHAT a DAY!