[Sigh, another cliché moment seems to have arrived.]
Everyone settled down at the dining spot. Me in the middle, men on my left and women over the right side of the table. However, near my right was Minah. Her constant staring kept me uncomfortable. I pretended to ignore her. But she still kept looking me in the eye amid chewing rice. The tablespoon in her left hand was constantly poking the biryani in her steel plate.
[That gaze, if my 200,000 years of lifespan is correct, she's indirectly asking me to feed her a spoon.]
I spoke, "Eat your own food!", whereas she responded, "Why not feed me a spoon?!", and made me flinch.
[I was right??]
"Unfortunately, the people of this nation eat food bare-handed. And as you can see, my right hand is dipped inside my biryani at the moment!!", I exclaimed while showing my right hand which was soaked with oil, tiny rice pieces and spices.