i first tried ‘cafe mint plus’ a few years back. it’s the bangla cafe next to red banana near bihuroazu kamana miskiy. the place made an impression on me because it had curried camel meat. also, at the time it smelled very damp but that didn’t stop hassanfulhu from eating like a man possessed. the camel was maybe a little gamey and tough but not inedible. definitely not boring.

today though, i am here to meet @angelshujau for lunch. i’m surprised she took me up on the offer, i thought she might find this a little too adventurous. au contraire, she seemed very enthusiastic when i floated the idea. shows how much i know.

angel arrives in a stunning psychedelic kurta, and when she climbs the stairs, she draws admiring looks from the hotaa’s all male staff and patrons. but angel doesn’t seem flustered.

‘what are we having?’ she asks, and i take her to the counter. there’s beef, there’s fish, chicken, and even duck. plus some dry curried veggies.

‘i’m having the duck,’ says angel. ‘and some bitter gourd’.
woah.

unlike my experimental friend, i get chicken and a green, leafy side. the meaty curries are all prepared the bangla way, dry, spicy, and with a layer of smooth smooth oil.

angel and i sit by the slatted windows.

‘what have you been up to?’ she asks.

‘just horsing around. you?’

‘the usual,’ she says and smiles. the server brings our food. and it’s looking pretty good.

‘you know, one of my best friends is bangladeshi,’ says angel.

‘ah yes, i think you’ve told me,’ i tell her. ‘was she a student of fashion as well?’

‘she studied architecture,’ says angel.

‘how did you meet?’

‘she was at an environmental conference representing bangladesh and i was representing the maldives there.’

‘an environmentally conscious architect. has she designed any buildings?’ i ask.

‘no, she’s more of an academic, really,’ says angel.

we eat for a bit. i temper my chicken and the short grained rice with bits of cucumber and the bitter gourd. it is quite bitter but the combined taste is nothing if not intruiging.

‘this duck is not too gamey actually,’ says angel. ‘it’s great.’

and then she continues:

‘her uncle died in the war, you know?’

‘what war?’ i ask.

‘the pakistan-bangladesh war. they killed off a lot of intellectuals.’

it’s not a war we know much about here in the maldives. but it was brutal, recognised as a genocide committed by our muslim brothers of pakistan against our muslim brothers of bangladesh, then east pakistan. bangladeshi death tolls are estimated in the lakhs to millions.

nothing’s really changed at all, i think.

‘you look like you’ve had too much spice, husenfulhu,’ says angel, handing me a napkin. i blow my nose into it and feel a little better.

‘do you want to go have ice cream afterwards?’ i ask her. ‘from cafeier?’

‘you’re like my mother,’ laughs angel. ‘she loves a good ice cream. sure, let’s.’

the whole meal costs us 155MVR, including water.

‘this one’s on me, angel,’ i tell her. and we walk to where she has parked her bike on rahdhebaimagu. a scrawny white and brown cat mewls at angel and she pets it without hesitation.

‘poor guy looks starved,’ she says and grabs some cat food from under the seat. she pours a generous amount from the bag onto the pavement and strokes the cat as it chomps down on the dry nuggets. then we climb on the bike and speed off towards cafeier, remarking on the brilliant blue sky on this clear june afternoon.