it’s the kind of day that compels a certain type to tweet, often with pics, that they’d like to or are already holed up with a good book (ie something by neil gayman/chichanda acheedi) and a cup of hot cocoa or coffee. shout it to the world, guilt them for not reading in this rain.

anyhow, i’m here in agora at the baskin robbins corner with hasanfulhu who read the brothers karamazov many rains ago. ‘it’s about madness in the family, right?’ he asked me once. now, he has bought me a nice rainbow umbrella from maavadi store and i’m returning the favour. hasanfulhu may be a trim and single lawyer but he isn’t one to turn down free ice cream, even on a cool, dreary afternoon such as this.

he seems preoccupied with some thought, as uncanny as it may seem.
‘an ice cream for your thoughts?’

‘i was just thinking about the national debt.’

‘i’m going to have the mississippi mudcake, what do you want?’

‘the same. i was just thinking, what if we default? what’s going to happen to us?’

‘look man, i’m no economist but i think we have enough rich friends to borrow stuff from.’

‘to pay back debts?’

‘yeah. look, i’m always in debt but you know, it doesnt stop me from having fun.’
‘or eating ice cream.’

‘exactly. i borrow some money and repay someone else and live off the difference.’

‘so you’re saying you’re essentially the maldives. in a person.’

‘eh, i’m not too worried. the tourists are coming.’

we have our ice creams in cones. they may not give movenpick wafer cones a run for their money but these babies are CRISP. and the mississippi mud, just like its namesake, is fucking thicc. goddamn.

we venture out into the world.

‘it’s raining.’ hasanfulhu makes one of his observations.

‘hmm. you know what? let’s go to the park nearby.’

and so we walk over in the drizzle, me shielding the cone with my new umbrella. and i hate mayor muizz’s face but the guy made some cool spaces like this little pocket-park.

we enter the thatch-peaked gazebo there but there’s a young man sprawled on the bench inside, asleep.

‘think we should go elsewhere?’ i ask hasanfulhu.

‘i’m ok here actually, don’t mind this guy.’

so i park my umbrella and am in the midst of licking my cone when someone goes:

BRO!

i turn and it’s the sleeping man, now morbidly awake.

BRO! please. can you spare me some of that ice cream? i haven’t eaten ALL DAY.

it is only one in the afternoon though but i don’t make a point of pointing that out.
and then more scruffy bros begin showing up.

BRO. some ice cream. please. we are starving.

‘all right,’ i say, hoping they don’t notice the tremor in my voice. ‘all RIGHT! you’re very lucky cos you’ve met the most generous guy of his generation. and myself. i’m going to get you some ice cream. in fact, you should have some rice while you’re at it. fried rice. how’s that sound?’

BRO. that’s VERY good bro. you’re a GOOD bro, bro.

‘ok, give me a minute.’ i turn to hasanfulhu who nods. we start walking out of the park, and after we’ve walked a few metres towards agora, we make a run for it, holding the ice cream steady.

we stop near ADK and look behind. no bros on our tail.

‘whew.’ i say. ‘that was way too close.’

‘where’s your umbrella?’

in my haste, i have entirely forgotten my new rainbow umbrella! my spirits quickly liquify and pour out of my eyes.

‘those…MANGY bros! they have my BEAUTIFUL new umbrella. it hasn’t even been a DAY!’

‘don’t cry,’ says kindly hasanfulhu. ‘i’ll get you a new one.’

‘really? can i have the biggest one?’

‘any one you want.’

now you see why i spend time with this man.