ah k cafe. i remember my first meal there – it was noon, i was hungry af. i ate a mee goreng and by god it was something else – a memorable balance of savoury, sweet, and spice.

though the cafe is known for asian fusion (it does a pretty amazing nasi lemak fellas), it’s their sri lankan meals that take the top spot. i haven’t had rice and curry as good in male and it is easily comparable to our island neighbour’s. you get it at lunch with an iced tea or juice for 99 rufiyaa. beat that! [note: i learned about a cheaper sri lankan lunch at patio today].

a few months ago however, i got some concerning news – k cafe was closing down. i didn’t believe it at first, and i talked to a couple of servers.

‘we don’t know when but we might be closing soon for renovations,’ they said, looking strangely anxious. renovations. whew! what a relief.

but then i heard from a very reputable source that the closure would be permanent.

so, after many a day dragging my feet, i am finally here with hasanfulhu, the lawyer who doesn’t really care what he eats.

‘you’re paying too, right?’ he asks me.

‘of course, of course,’ i say. just like him to focus on trivial matters.

‘doesn’t this place have a very rude server?’ he asks as we sit down in a corner booth.

‘it’s just his face, he looks like he’s permanently pissed.’

we receive our menus.

‘you order,’ says hasanfulhu, so i do: plain hoppers, potato baduma, pol sambol, and a dahl curry.

‘so,’ i ask him. ‘what’s going down in male?’

‘this government is utterly incompetent,’ he says.

‘utterly, eh?’

‘we barely have enough reserves to cover one and a half months of imports,’ he goes on, his voice loud and resonant, like he’s in a courtroom. ‘international best practice says you MUST be able to cover at least three months.’

‘i see someone’s been reading the maldives independent,’ i tell him.

‘it’s all going to hell!’ he says. ‘gaza, everything.’

‘a real tragedy,’ i say.

‘what is?’

‘gaza.’

‘weren’t you an israeli sympathiser until recently?’

‘hey, hey, i NEVER sympathised with the killing of innocents.’

‘didn’t you say ‘but they’re human shields?”

‘NEVER!’

huh,’ says hasanfulhu warily. ‘so, what have you been doing?’

‘just helping my cousin out.’

‘yeah? what’s he up to?’

‘selling roach traps.’

‘any good?’

‘apparently. tons of satisfied customers. the product’s from japan, you know,’ i say.

‘is he on insta?’

‘no one says insta, man. no one our age.’ i laugh.

‘well, is he?’

‘yes, actually,’ i say. ‘@kurafi.traps.mv. check him out.’

‘maybe i will,’ he says. ‘are you getting paid for this?’

‘of course.’

‘how much?’

‘a 12-pack of kurafi traps.’

‘goes with your trap-like mind,’ he says.

funny.

the food arrives. the potato baduma, which is spicy fried potato, is probably my favourite side dish ever. the dahl could’ve been spicier, but it’s thick and flavourful, and the pol sambol is exceptional.

‘tastes like mashuni,’ says hasanfulhu.

‘it’s proto mashuni,’ i tell him.

‘proto?’

‘yes.’

‘mhm, fancy.’

in ten minutes, we’ve made short work of everything.

‘that was great,’ i say.

‘i expect the bill will be as well,’ says hasanfulhu.

‘you’d be surprised,’ i tell him.

all our food amounts to 140 rufiyaa.

‘hey i thought it would be at least double that,’ exclaims hasanfulhu.

‘so can you get this?’ i ask him. he tsks his disappointment and reaches for his wallet.

if this is to be our last meal ever in this great restaurant, i think i am fine with that. you will be missed k cafe. and i will hunt down your chefs, you bet.

on the backseat of hasanfulhu’s bike, just as we turn into chaandhanee magu from boduthakurufaanu magu, i get powerful cramps in my thighs.

‘i’m in extreme pain here,’ i hiss. ‘cramps.’

‘you old fucker. want me to stop?’

‘no i’ll power through it,’ i say.

‘this is why you should exercise in the morning instead of meditating.’

‘goddammit, i’m dying.’

‘just concentrate on the pain,’ he says. ‘give in to it.’

‘are you nuts?’

‘seriously, don’t fight it. give in. then it will become something like pleasure.’

my god, who IS this man? marquis de sade?