saththaaru and i walk in the dampened night towards our destination just beyond KAM hotel. it’s right after ishaa and male is hushed. we’re getting some cookies, a milestone in husenfulhu’s history. the lovely people at terrafika have accommodated a request for a review.

‘why’re you so nervous?’ asks saththaaru.

‘it’s my first real assignment.’

‘you’re afraid of some bakers? what are they gonna do? throw you in the oven?’

‘be quiet. i gotta mentally prepare myself.’

‘don’t you have a brain disease?

‘just shut up, man.’

–

‘well, that went well.’ says saththaaru afterwards. ‘i’m gonna tell sampaafulhu hot women make you nervous.’

‘alright.’

‘but you are jittery around men too. maybe you’re just jittery. generally. or corporally? do people say corporally?’

‘huh.’

‘you’re an enigma, husenfulhu. has anyone told you? maybe sampaafulhu is the only one who can approximate you. and even that’s an approximation. has anyone told you?’

‘has anyone told YOU to shut the fuck up?’

‘recently?’

we enter our building and go up to our apartment.

sampaafulhu sits on the sofa, her skin, sometimes blotched because of sweets, now glows in this warm orange light. pretty woman, sampaafulhu.

‘how did it go?’ she asks.

‘husenfulhu was acting like a lunatic,’ says saththaaru. ‘by the way, does the word ‘loony’ come from hamlet?’

‘what did husenfulhu do?’ says sampaafulhu.

‘he kept muttering to himself. and hugged this heavily pregnant woman. he could have made her give birth at the rate he was squeezing her.’

‘she makes the cookies you sack of shit,’ i say. ‘now eat and report.’

sampaafulhu takes one.

‘mmm. it’s very chocolatey. really thick and rich. but i think the cookie is a little too crumbly.’

‘saththaaru?’ i ask.

the man has shoved a whole cookie between his neanderthal jaws and is chewing heavily.

‘you know what?’ he says. ‘the cookie inexplicably reminded me of a special friend i knew in university, one of the finest engineering institues of the western world in the east. she meant a lot to me. she was kind and ample. but she crumbled at the first sign of pressure and was filled with dark, dark envy. oh i just remembered: we called her “cookie”. whadaya know!’

‘anyway,’ i say. ‘i think MY cookie is just fucking awesome. love the chocolate and love the dough, it’s the best kinda doughy.’

‘terrific,’ says saththaaru. ‘you should do more reviews like that.’

‘it tastes like proper dough, you philistine. my flatmate was a master baker.’

‘sounds like a real wanker,’ saththaaru mutters.

‘huh? what’s that?’

‘nothing. nothing at all,’ says saththaaru, clumps of cookie dust covering his chin.