on the deck of nouvelle the sunlight falls through slats that should remind one of soneva – nothing is straight, everything is crooked. like sonu.

jk.

it’s an interesting place because downstairs it has an almost posh, leafy feel. and up here it’s still fairly neat, but beyond us, near the walls that overlook the sea, the restaurant is surprisingly hotaa-like.

thakuru and i are sitting by the canopy of the banyan tree. it’s uncanny how greenery can transform a place, lighten the mood.

‘you see the fruit of this tree?’ says thakuru.

‘what fruit? this tree bears no fruit, stupid.’

‘look carefully,’ says thakuru smiling. ‘for once, be observant. you’re supposed to be a writer, aren’t you?’

‘all right, all right,’ i tell him. and then i see them, reddish balls about as big as kaani seeds.

‘what’s so special about those?’ i ask thakuru.

‘it’s evolution in action,’ he says. ‘the tree is pollinated by a wasp, a special wasp that evolved with the tree.’

‘ok. so, what? you kill the wasp and that kills the tree?’

thakuru looks at me in mock surprise.

‘would that it were so simple,’ he says.

‘would that it ’twere.’

‘no that’s not how you -’ begins thakuru and then he lets out a sigh of relief.

‘our food is here,’ he announces. the server places two plates of chicken rice on the table.

‘my god it’s good,’ i say. the chicken is deliciously moist, the soy and sesame seed dip bringing out the richness of the meat.

‘good pick,’ says thakuru. ‘so, what’s new with you?’

‘well, i went to that new gallery.’

‘ah!’ he says. ‘very much your speed, eh?’

‘i don’t know about that. but yeah, i really liked the art. it was awesome.’

‘except?’ asks thakuru, noticing my expression.

‘hmm. it felt like the gallery wanted to intellectualise stuff.’

‘ah,’ says thakuru. ‘but what do you mean exactly?’

‘like you know. it implored visitors to think. but i mean, why? this is art! it doesn’t need to justify itself on reason’s terms.’

‘oh, just ignore the writing and engage with the art,’ thakuru smiles.

‘i would but WHY have writing at ALL?’ i scream.

‘all right, settle down now,’ says thakuru looking around to see if anybody’s noticed us.

‘why can’t an exhibition say for once ‘here’s some art, enjoy yourselves bitches!“

‘calm down, i said,’ says thakuru paying for us. ‘time to go.’

‘i mean, you see what i mean…’ i say, following thakuru down the stairs.

‘YES, man, YES!’