it’s not every day that you get to eat hedhikaa with the great man @araakaa. so, that afternoon after a couple of false starts, we decide on taste me cos araakaa is hankering for some havaadhlee bis. and at taste me, havaadhlee bis is bliss. samfa would probs hate that line.

‘are you looking forward to the fabulous art show?’ araakaa asks as we walk along sosan magu.

‘why is it fabulous?’ i ask.

‘that’s what it’s called,’ he says.

‘fabulous huh? sounds really gay.’

‘what’s wrong with that?’

‘when is it?’

‘last day of this month,’ says araakaa as we wait to let a stream of motorbikes through before we cross.

‘why can’t they wait for us to cross like a civilised bunch?’ he says. ‘why must we always make way for them?’

‘god knows,’ i say. ‘hurry, the hedhikaa won’t last forever.’

we have to really work our way through the throng by the kaanivaa bus stop.

‘GOT HEDHIKAA?’ i scream at some servers outside taste me, who take absolutely no notice of me.

‘why don’t you get their numbers and call them instead?’ laughs araakaa.

there’s not a lot of hedhikaa left by the time we’re ready to order. most importantly, there’s no havaadhlee bis.

nevertheless, araakaa takes a kavaab, a bis keemiya, and a cutlas and i take a kavaab as well, plus a cutlas and one of those roasted baked beans keemiyas, if anyone knows what they’re called please write in the comments or DM.

it’s already pretty dim inside as we begin eating. the faint lightbulbs above us in their curious shades do little to dispel the dark.

‘so, people just come here and eat in darkness?’ says araakaa.

‘yeah i mean people trust this place man,’ i explain. ‘it’s like an institution.’

‘really. taste me?’

‘uh, i have a wif-‘

‘what?‘

we sit in awkward silence for a minute.

‘the hedhikaa is very good here,’ araakaa admits.

‘if only they’d had the havaadhlee bis. it’s fucking bliss.’

araakaa gets the bill. it’s 53MVR – not too bad for a kaanivaa kada.

as we walk back, we pass by a towering building still under construction on the sosan magu/ameer ahmed magu junction.

‘woah,’ goes araakaa. ‘what’s going on here?’

he starts reading the billboards around the property. one of them makes him laugh.

‘72 exclusive homes for the privileged few!’ i read out loud like a fool.

‘at least they’re up front about it,’ he says and we part ways.