faathumaafulhu is in town and that means i’m getting treated. she is a generous one, at least in her own way. and what a way that is. once she took us all out to dinner to a famous thai place and at the end of it she said: since dinner’s on me, can you guys just pay the gst?

today we’re walking in the gentle rain to bianco – her pick, i think she saw them on lonumedhu.

‘i hope it’s good,’ she says a little apprehensively by the cafe’s white exterior.

‘you gotta risk it for the good stuff,’ i tell her reassuringly as we walk in.

it’s spotless, bordering on sterile but flowers in vases on the tables brighten things up meraki style.

i order a beef sandwich and she gets a beef rice bowl. they seem decently priced.

‘so, tell me about the trip,’ she says. ‘you got back yesterday right?’

‘oh yeah, goddamn, i was blessed by a hijra,’ i tell her.

faathumaafulhu laughs.

‘remember when you got CURSED by one?’ she says. ‘you fled into a cafe and ordered chicken tikka massala and got diarrh -’

‘yeah, yeah,’ i bark. ‘but this time, it happened on my drive to the airport.’

‘you mean in the car?’

‘yeah. and guess what? i was the first one off the plane, the first through immigration and by the time i was done with the passport check, my luggage was waiting for me on the belt.’

‘from diarrhoea to that!’ says faathumaa. ‘oh, here comes our food.’

‘you know?’ i say between mouthfuls. ‘i was home just twenty minutes after landing.’

‘one small step for man,’ says faathumaafulhu, shoving forkfuls of rice into her mouth.

my beef sandwich is decent, not fawnworthy, and faathuma really loves her rice.

‘the beef is a tad salty, but just a tad, it’s really very good,’ she announces her verdict. ‘you got that shirt in india didn’t you?’

‘can you tell? you like?’

‘haha it’s ridiculous.’

‘YOU’RE ridiculous.’

faathuma grins, revealing her wanton teeth. and i don’t mean teeth like wontons. also, i sense something within beginning to boil as the server arrives with the bill.

‘should i get the GST again?’ i snap.

‘say that once more and the treat’s on YOU, husenFULHI.’

very clever, this woman. but didn’t rumi say: trade your cleverness for bewilderment?