Heated up: Love in Bollywood

adepeju adenuga
3 min readSep 25, 2023

Diary of a Nigerian Immigrant

I am beginning to leave matters for Matthias, as I do not write weekly anymore. But I got my first smoke alarm last week. I was frying chicken with an air fryer, and I didn’t get it preheated before using it. I wondered who invented these things. But that was not the only thing that got heated.

I am beginning to think of myself as a relationship counselor. Esther Solarin must be proud of me. It's 1 PM, but everyone seems to have one sort of relationship: “brouhaha”. My friend has broken up with her boyfriend, and I may not have the best advice. Another is dealing with a love triangle. Whatever our heritage, we all seek love, finding one to be with. If you have been reading my blogs to this point, I think you know that I am as single as a singlet. Sighs, ‘insert deep Brother Shaggi quotes’.

I am down on my knees arranging catalogs; if I knew that sorting books and papers is exactly this ‘fun’, I would have worked for the university library in Unilag, and God knows those people need serious help.

These past few weeks, I have visited the insurance office. ‘Talmabout’, I am friendly, so you people should give me money to keep you alive. Oh, now I know why I didn’t write last week. I went on a driving cruise, and the vehicle had an accident. Like legit, smoke was coming out everywhere, and I was doing Vedam (Indian movie). I was literally not freaking out. That may be because the driver had already soiled his pants—well, maybe a little. Because he can come across this memo now and say that I was exaggerating. (I mentioned it in my last blog)

We tried asking for help, but we were in the woods. Now I know why American horror movies sell. Why will you ever want to go to the woods for a picnic? When your village people have not finished working with you, I had to watch him panic in the middle of nowhere, mindlessly. I was taking a video with my phone. Maybe one day I will be bold enough to share it with you. Or even with the world. You know, in Nigeria, you don’t want your village people to know you have migrated to “Obodo Oyingbo”.

Cue in why you know I was at the insurance office. The officer was so nice (sorry, I am judging you when you are too nice), working us through several papers. One girl shared how she was assaulted…



adepeju adenuga

I love the power of stories, playing with words and my imagination to the rescue.