i step onto the smooth cement of the colonial villa that’s filled with the smell of the sea. the frothy stretch of water beckons from beyond the door. as i walk into the yard, and spot sampaafulhu and nadheemaadhi lounging in deckchairs beneath a large umbrella, i sense something begin to unravel. the moment i notice it, the effect magnifies – a complete decompressing of the soul.

i put my fingers over sampa’s eyes.

‘about time’ she says with what i think is a smidge of excitement.

‘hello!’ beams nadheemaadhi, ever effervescent.

‘man,’ i say plopping down on the chair besides sampa, who grunts and makes room for me.

the view is unbroken, a grey-blue sea stretching right up to the horizon beyond a bar of golden sand, so different from our bleached coral beaches. above, layers of puffy clouds, white and still against the brightest blue. a wave rolls in, crashing in a sigh of delicious white noise.

‘isn’t it something?’ says nadheemaadhi.

‘we’re in the promised land,’ i say.

‘we’re in ahangama,’ says sampa. ‘it’s enough for us mortals.’

that afternoon, with the clouds still glowing orange, we go to a restaurant by the sea: persian kitchen.

a shaggy brown spaniel comes up to us and wags its tail. i almost pet it on its silky head and then remember i am muslim.

we order kebabs and a seafood platter.

beyond us is the sea, gentler now, and lit by the dipping sun. the clouds burn.

‘there’s this feeling you get when you sense something become memory,’ i tell sampaafulhu. ‘it’s like you’re experiencing something but also remembering it. you’re experiencing something that’s already happened.’

‘de ja vu?’ asks nadheemadhi.

‘you lost me at memory,’ says sampaafulhu.

the food arrives and so does the dog who sits by one end of the table trying to lock eyes with us, those sad spaniel eyes.

‘my god, these prawns,’ says sampaafulhu.

‘the kebab is amazing, too,’ i tell her. ‘here, try some.’ i put some meat on her plate

‘aren’t you glad you came?’ asks nadheemadhi.

‘i am i am,’ i say. she has to have a hundred reassurances, this woman. i chew on the remaining meat of my kebab. it is rich, lamby, minty.