finally, i’m going to try patio’s sri lankan lunch special, this time with alifulhu, man of great talent and compassion. it’s been a few months since our last meal together, and in the intervening time, alifulhu has gone and married faathaanike. and she him.

now, as i ride the bus, i can’t help thinking about rice and curry. it’s just 75 for the chicken curry, plus you get a drink. patio is encroaching on k cafe territory. but will they be able to get a solid foothold? judging by the roas paan and prawn curry i’ve had there a few times, who knows?

the bus is slow so i call and make a reservation. it’s almost 2pm, which is when they stop making lunch.

i arrive before alifulhu does and i tell the servers i called ahead.

‘we’ve got a table for two,’ says one, and ushers me into the back.

i wish the interior was brighter, that it had more natural light, but maybe it’s just my seat with its view of that eerie wooden sculpture. yes, it’s the same old place.

‘hey,’ someone says. it’s alifulhu.

‘how’s it GOING man?’ i say to my friend who seems a bit amused by my enthusiasm.

‘good good,’ he says sitting down. ‘what are we having again?’

‘the rice and curry lunch special,’ i say. ‘i’ve ordered, it should be here any minute.’

and our meals come to the table accompanied by brinjal moju, a green, leafy sambol, and dahl. the rice is basmati tho, so it loses a point.

‘it’s a lot,’ says alifulhu as i take a pic.

we begin to eat. i have no complaints. maybe some mango chutney mght have made an enjoyable side but there’s a nice caramelised note coming from the brinjal moju so i’m good. the chicken curry, meanwhile, is thin, spicy, and the meat is tender as young love.

‘how’s married life man?’

it had to be asked.

‘little has changed besides not having to hide her slippers,’ says alifulhu. ‘how’s yours? still getting it up at your age?’

‘it’s performing well.’

‘so, it’s a performance.’

alifulhu is just trying to be funny, i think.

‘how’s work?’ i ask changing tack.

‘it’s good, i’m doing more work for less pay,’ he says.

‘AI finally taking bites out of your game, huh?’ i say. how many times have these people made fun of ME for losing my work to the devil?

‘how did you survive?’ he asks. ‘in fact, how do you even pay rent?’

‘a man knows how after forty years,’ i tell him.

’45, you mean.’

the server arrives with nuts and goes to bring our bill.

‘i’ll pay,’ says alifulhu, reaching for his wallet. it barely comes to a hundred each.

‘a good lunch,’ i say.

‘very good,’ he nods.

we step outside and my friend motions for us to take a table in the paved area by the entrance. he takes out an amber leaf pouch, quickly rolls up a cigarette, and lights it. i look around. the sunlight is gentle even at noon, the clouds are seeing to it. a breeze blows in from the sea. alifulhu smokes quietly while across the road, a wamco truck roars past, gifting us a pale whiff of garbage.

‘remember when thursday and friday were the weekends?’ i ask alifulhu.

‘vaguely,’ he says. ‘i’m not that old, you know.’

i think for a moment.

‘it made sense,’ i say. ‘having a buffer day to ease you into the week.’

‘what do you mean?’

‘going to hukuru and visiting family. you can’t game all day on friday like you can on thursday.’

alifulhu looks even more puzzled.

‘it’s a strange thing isn’t it?’ i tell him finally.

‘hmm?’

‘the moment you think you’ve got something, it’s gone.’

alifulhu nods.

‘almost like you never had it in the first place,’ i go on. ‘it was all a party trick.’

‘an illusion, husenfulhu,’ says my friend. ‘what did you lose?’

‘ah, just you know. back when i was a kid i thought my parents had everything figured out. and then, BAM!’

‘hey settle down, people are staring,’ he mutters.

‘sorry, i mean, you come to realise you’re all on your own in a world that makes no sense. it’s not like tetris where you can fit things in to their little slots.’

‘too slow to solve rubik’s cubes, eh?’ says alifulhu.

a crow caws in the distance. alifulhu smiles into his cigarette and blows a fragrant cloud into the wind.