Come fly with me: A train of thought

As I lunch alfresco, right at the top of a loosely canopied area that could well be a small amphitheatre, enjoying an endive, walnut and pear salad, and some good coffee, I recall the most interesting experience of the past week, a wonderfully diverse dinner party on a closed balcony at a new friend's home.

Sitting right at the centre of the large table, I found myself caught between different conversations taking place on either side of me, and often a third occurring diagonally, with the voice of the person on my left shooting across to the individuals seated on the opposite right. This is, of course, a natural phenomenon, but with no music, and surrounded by natter that was in fact quite interesting, even fascinating — comparing cultures and trying to outdo one another in peculiarity of rules and traditions — I was trying to engage in one discussion, when words from another would catch my attention, and I'd turn my head only to lose the thread of the discussion I was involved in, and then take a minute or two to get into the next one, if at all.

Dipping in and out, however, can be impractical and does not always work. But I confess that I can get easily distracted and can just as easily zone out of the present moment. At times, I was missing out on both or all three conversations occurring simultaneously. And when this happened, I did, in fact, take pleasure in accidentally being the observer, in not being a part of any discussion but watching facial expressions, laughter, boredom, things that are often so slight that they can be missed when one is fully engrossed in a conversation. Furthermore, sitting in the middle of a long table and not so intensely absorbed in the conversations around me, I could weave in and out and lose concentration without being noticed, a perfect solution for my (self-diagnosed and untreated) attention deficit disorder. This would have been far more favourable had the conversation at hand been less gripping.

About the food — well, there was plenty of it. Our hosts had googled vegetarian recipes and come up with a variety of dishes, from salads, hummus and other dips, home-made bread and soup to a tofu concoction and pasta. The fact that there were five children, all of different ages, made the dinner less formal — in fact, before I even entered the house, I had a go (somewhat feeble) at jumping on a pogo stick which one of their daughters was playing with outside — and a large party also meant that not taking a helping of the pasta or not finishing a specific dish went unnoticed (as did the odd yawn, of which there were many — I was, honestly, very tired).

That said, our host family was far from formal, and this is when meals are most enjoyable, with the ability to lounge (although lounging proved difficult on a hard wooden chair that gave me a sore bottom when I got up) and chat at leisure about open-ended topics.

t was an altogether diverse party, consisting of an assortment of American, British and Indian accents discussing British, Indian and Jewish cultures, all of which made the wonderful feast on the roofed balcony overlooking hills of lights adorning the city all the more interesting.

Back to the restaurant, basking in the heat of the afternoon sun, I reread this column and realise that I have made no real points or declared a conclusion. Sometimes, my writing leads me to an idea or a new realisation, but sometimes my surroundings conjure a mood that translates into a passage of aimless descriptions and thoughts. There are always points that can be made and opinions that need sharing, but for now, I'm sitting inside a week of just thoughts and reflection. C'est la vie.

— Follow Meera Ashish on www.talefourcities.comand @meeraashish and @talefourcities