it’s the day before roadha and i’m in hulhumale to get some grub. the sun’s going down and even the busy streets seem kinda beautiful and poetic in this golden light.

‘poetic?’ says alifulhu.

i must have been thinking out loud.

we’re in the alley that leads from nirolhu magu to matham raidhaan, the pakistani cafe. i recall having a good curry there a few years ago but i haven’t been since.

‘phew,’ says faathaanike who’s with us on this outing. ‘this alley stinks.’

‘you know, i don’t think i’ve smelt anything here that i couldn’t handle,’ i tell her.

‘really?’

‘bangalore on the other hand…’

‘i thought it was a clean city,’ says alifulhu.

‘clean by indian standards,’ i say. ‘but man, i once walked under an overpass that had a lot of garbage. and the stench was unbelievable. it was so sharp. almost knocked me out.’

‘interesting.’

we walk to the cafe and decide to sit outside cos the interior smelled a bit funky.

‘get the kabsa,’ says alifulhu. and so i do, while they order lassi.

the service is fast and my kabsa comes quickly. i have a taste. it’s like a biriyani, maybe a poor man’s biriyani. biriyani a la hasanfulhu.

‘what do you think mr critic?’ asks faathaanike.

‘it’s good,’ i say. ‘the meat’s juicy. smell the rice, ali.’

‘oh, he doesn’t have a sense of smell,’ laughs faathaanike. ‘he can’t even smell his own shit.’

‘isn’t that a good thing?’ asks alifulhu.

then something meows. it’s an orange stray quite obviously looking for meat. i try to ignore it and continue with my meal but it won’t shut up.

‘should i give it some?’

‘if you like,’ says alifulhu. so i put a bit of meat in a tissue and the cat follows me up the alley where i put it down quite a bit away from the restaurant.

‘it’s a persistent fella,’ i tell my friends.

‘so, what you gonna do in sunny london?’ asks alifulhu.

‘learn some writing maybe,’ i say.

‘ah, why are you learning things that’s already done by gpt?’

‘well, man, eventually it’ll replace everything. like even videography.’

‘don’t say that,’ says faathaanike. ‘he might not look it now, but he’ll be in a state tonight.’

‘haha,’ i laugh. ‘yeah man, that $1000/minute won’t last long, you can bet.’

i finish off my kabsa and sip on my lassi. it’s creamy, a hint of mango, a bit of sweetness. a good drink.
then, something scratches my calf. it’s the cat!

‘oh, you shouldn’t have fed it,’ says alifulhu.

‘but you told me to!’

‘i said if you LIKE,’ grins alifulhu. i shake my head and find some scraps to put in a tissue for this starving ginger. dear god. the light has left the world and the putrid shine of the artificial stars of humanity have taken over the night. and even our very own lights might wink out sooner than we think to be replaced by the cold chrome of thinking machines.