Let Me Finish My Sentence (And Maybe My Lunch)

I really love India but one thing I don’t particularly enjoy is how quickly they try to get you in and out of a restaurant or café.

You walk in, place your order, and within minutes the food is on your table. Before you’ve even put your spoon down, the subtle pressure starts. They want you to eat, pay, and leave fast.

In Australia, it’s a bit more relaxed. Sure, some places have booking limits (which I still don’t like), but generally, you’re not being ushered out mid-meal.

I don’t mind talking, in fact, I could talk all day and night, but I also deeply enjoy listening. I live for those long, meandering conversations that go nowhere and everywhere at the same time.

When I was in Greece in 2017, I was chatting with one of my mum’s cousins. He told me a story I’ll never forget. Just a few nights earlier, he’d gone out for dinner with some friends. They met at 8pm, started talking and just kept talking. Hours passed, stories flowed, time dissolved. Eventually, they looked at each other and realised it was 8am. So, they did the only reasonable thing: ordered breakfast.

I couldn’t believe it.

The difference in cultures is huge. In some places, lingering is sacred. In others, lingering is frowned upon.

Today I was having lunch with two friends, chatting about my documentary on Swami, speaking from the heart, when the waitress interrupted mid-sentence: “Sir, you have to eat.”

I laughed. “I will,” I said.

She smiled and walked off, but I noticed the whole restaurant kept glancing over.

I wasn’t being loud, just… alive.

I speak how I live: openly, with presence, from the heart.