‘are you free right now?’ texts illabe. ‘let’s go for a sai.’

‘hell yes,’ i reply.

illabe is just a few years older, an extremely busy man with a wife, two kids, and a full time job. but we manage to meet up a few times a year and talk about beykaaru stuff. in fact, it’s illabe who got me into meditation, which i had long dismissed as a silly subcontinental practice.

‘where do you want to go?’ he asks when we meet.

‘somewhere with good hedhika,’ i tell him.

‘i know a place,’ he says and off we ride. at 4pm the streets of male are unrestrained and ruthless, but illabe streaks through the traffic at speed, a true demon.

‘DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH MA MAN?’ i scream into his ear as we race into the kaanivaa parking lot. he chuckles.

‘didn’t get killed did we?’

deep within kaanivaa, we enter the open air premises of a place called fountain view, just past dolphin view and lavender sea view.

‘why is everything a view here,’ i ask illabe.

‘it’s just logical,’ he replies.

‘huh, logical.’

we take our seats on the tiled patio and wait for a server. before me, the grey waves are white-tipped, the sea is slowly being whipped into a rage. the clouds look menacing and seem to be piling up. a craw caws from nearby. i try to spot it but it avoids my sight.
the wait is turning out to be goddamned long.

‘sorry, this has never happened before,’ says illabe apologetically, brushing his fingers against his mostly black beard. then two servers bring out the hadhikaa tray but instead of serving us, they begin to wrap the tray in cling film. and they take an awful lot of time doing so.

‘when are we getting served, guys?’ asks illabe in an unusually loud voice, surprising me.

‘madukurey adhi mehi annanee dho,’ says the server.

‘we came here before the mehi,’ says illabe who seems jovial but i sense a bit of annoyance in his tone.

at last, we are served our hedhikaa. and it’s not bad at all tho the rihaakuru roshi tastes a little funny.

‘what was that?’ asks illabe.

‘something strange about this rihaakuru,’ i tell him.

‘yeah? seems all right to me,’ he says and continues to eat his rihaakuru roshi. ‘how are you doing though, i haven’t seen you in months. still meditating?’

‘still,’ i say. ‘i think it’s very helpful.’

‘it would be for people like us,’ he says.

yes, it’s true i think.

‘how far into the daily meditations are you?’

‘ah i’ve ended the course and started again from the top,’ i tell him. ‘i’ve yet to get good at it tho.’

‘it’s a lifetime practice,’ says illabe. ‘are you able to spot the meditator?’

‘yes,’ i say, stuffing my face with two cutlas. good, but not on par with taste me.

‘there IS no meditator,’ grins illabe. tingles of shame run down my spine.

‘what do you mean?’ i ask, my voice a little high. ‘i am the one who’s meditating. there is an i!’

‘i thought you finished the course,’ says illabe.

there’s a gust of wind and with it comes a hoard of mehi.

‘goddammit,’ i cry. ‘and it looks like it’s gonna rain soon, too. let’s run.’

‘yes, it doesn’t look good.’

we gobble everything down as the wind picks up. the clouds are mountainous and dark and cover almost the entire horizon.

‘let’s pay up,’ says illabe and we walk into the restaurant. the service is pretty slack despite a huddle of servers by the counter. i don’t think i’ll come here again.

back on the road, illabe drives like a nut and it truly frightens me.

‘calm down man, breathe. you don’t wanna die to avoid the rain. didn’t you learn ANYTHING from all that meditating?’
illabe chuckles.

‘you’re right, it’s about equanimity after all,’ he says, still riding like a freak. ‘accepting things with grace.’

‘SLOW DOWN!’

‘sorry!’ he says, braking and nearly colliding with the rear of a pick-up. i almost throw up.

soon, we come to a stop by my place. i stand shakily and give him a half-hearted pat on the back.

‘you ride like my father in law. he’s deranged.’

‘so are we,’ says illabe. ‘i must hurry though, before the rain gets me.’

and as he disappears into the grey afternoon i scream: ‘EQUANIMITY!’

‘tsk, tsk,’ says a shocked passerby to their companion. ‘even old men have no dignity these days. hooting and howling like the youth. tsk.’

i try to think of a response but nothing comes to mind so i close my eyes and take a deep breath, really feeling it moving into me. and by the time i’m done exhaling, i sense no annoyance or rancour. then, without further warning, the sky lets loose and i stand there, watching the street as it is washed clean.