I had dinner out today, at a fancy restaurant on the banks of a celebrated lake, which reminded us constantly of its presence by wafting fumes of an intoxicatingly rotten hue. There was a wooden plank flooring (do you call it that when it's outdoors, without a roof over it?), pretty little yellow lights suspended over dignified tables, and a laden surface before us at all times. In short, the works.

Of course, nothing comes that easy and problem-free. The company proved that.

Meeting family after a long time is no easy task. First off, there's this uncomfortable gap that no one wants to acknowledge. With friends it's easier, cause you know that if this doesn't work out, you can both gracefully exit each other's lives and move on. With relatives , you can't do that. You're SUPPOSED to stay connected, to continue to care about each other no matter how little you see of each other.

That's where the magic lies.

Well, anyway, I met these people after YEARS apart. And unsurprisinly, I had nothing much to say. I'm not one of those who spews and spills the dil on the not first but first in a long while meeting. So after some forced questions (I think I might have pushed it further, but since my sister-who's about as communicative as an avocado- was sitting in between, all words kind of met her and died) I relapsed into a polite and watchful silence, the kind where you are listening intently to all the other conversations that are taking place around the table, and you leap in from time to time, attempting to convice your mother that you are NOT an antisocial rude snob. Of course, that conversation usually shuts out the others that were originally paired with you. So you ARE being rude, but no one will recognise it.

And then there's the problem of how much to eat, and at what pace. If you eat too fast, everyone (people above 40 that is) exclaim about how starved you are, and more food is brought to the table at once (even if you are stuffed to just about bursting and can't cram in another bite). If you eat too slow, they exclaim anyway about how much weight you've lost and how you shouldn't be doing this to yourself. Shaking of heads, muttering of 'Kids these days.'

But you cannot, simply cannot, point out that at 19, you're hardly a kid. There's nothing like a family get-together to drill into you that you are just a little snot nosed preteen (if even that!). Time has just passed you by, in the minds of everyone else. Immortal forever.

Unfortunately it always HAS to be at an age where presents aren't expected, but obediance and sweetness is. Damn it.

These dinners teach one so much.