The trip to Pondicherry turned out to be interesting. And I learnt that the greatest product of civilization – manners – could be exceptionally amusing at times.

We stopped by at a certain hotel yesterday, on our way to Pondicherry, for lunch. It was one of a resort type; full of tall trees, a rather big swimming pool and, if you believe my luck, it was raining. There were a lot of small rabbit statues all round, for sale, though I still couldn’t find out why it was specifically rabbits.
The restaurant provided seats out in the terrace; the wind blew on our faces soon after we sat down, and the rain made it so much better.
And of course, there was the lovely hotel manager, without whom my story wouldn’t be complete.

Well, he greeted us. I’m not sure whether this is customary for customers to be greeted that way, but he stood by our table for quite some time, and naturally, we chatted.
We finished lunch, moved on to desert, and sat for some time afterwards, still in that beautiful weather. Then the manager came back, asked several more questions; my father praised his staff – only properly – for the food.
Then – the awkward moment, and when I learnt my lesson.
My father excused himself to use the restroom, leaving me alone with this man. I tensed up immediately, more for the knowledge that I was alone with a guy I barely knew than anything else. He tensed up too, of course. I felt it.
Our bodies were so stiff like guitar strings, we could’ve snapped any time.
Still, we tried to engage ourselves in a nonsensical conversation, which revolved around, I think, even more nonsensical subjects. I couldn’t help making some undeniably ludicrous comments in order to keep the conversation going. And what kept us in our positions, provoked us to keep on with our conversation, as it was? Manners: ours, as civilized people. And no, I’m not complaining.

By the end of it, though, I still think he’s a pleasant man.