The first time I went to an south Indian restaurant in Jalandhar I used my fingers. The waiter looked at me critically and said, "Fresh off the South, are you?" I blanched. My fingers, which a second before had been taste buds savouring the food a little ahead of my mouth, became dirty under his gaze. They froze like criminals caught in the act. I didn't dare lick them. I wiped them guiltily on my napkin. He had no idea how deeply those words wounded me. They were like nails being driven into my flesh. I picked up the knife and fork. I had hardly ever used such instruments. My hands trembled. My sambar lost its taste...
It is true that those we meet can change us, sometimes so profoundly that we are not the same afterwards. I am sure that we all must have changed so much so that we barely understand each other... Don't you guys think that it's better we meet up somewhere sometime (in the near future) before we start further changing away from your true self..?