THE PERFORMATIVE “KHAYO?”: ASKING IF YOU ATE EVEN WHEN WE KNOW THE ANSWER

“Khayo?” The question slips out almost automatically when we meet someone in the afternoon or evening. Did you eat? A simple inquiry, yet it rarely seeks new information. Often, we already know the answer—our friend just came from lunch, or the timing makes it obvious. But we ask anyway, as if the question itself is a ritual we can’t leave behind.

In Nepali life, “Khayo?” is less about the literal act of eating and more about extending care. It is a way of folding someone into your attention, of saying: I am thinking of your well-being. Like many Nepali exchanges—“Ghar ramro?” or “Sanchai?”—the purpose is not to interrogate but to reaffirm a bond. It is performance, but not in a disingenuous way; it is a shared social dance where both sides know the steps.

This performative “Khayo?” reflects the communal core of our culture. We do not see eating as a purely individual act. Meals are social markers—an index of health, happiness, and normalcy. A person who skips a meal or eats late might be troubled; someone who eats heartily is, by implication, well. To ask “Khayo?” is to check the pulse of someone’s day.

Yet what makes it fascinating is how scripted it feels. The question is asked with full knowledge that the answer will almost always be “Khaye” or “Khaina.” It doesn’t matter. What matters is the reassurance: someone cared enough to ask, and we cared enough to respond. It’s a daily ceremony of mutual recognition.

This ritual also reveals how we approach conversation in Nepal. We often prefer indirect paths to connection—soft entries, warm pauses, circular chatter. We don’t ask, “How was your meeting with the boss?” or “Did your proposal go through?” until later—if at all. We start with “Khayo?” because hunger is universal, a safe place to begin.

But “Khayo?” can also be a quiet test of closeness. It is not asked of strangers or those with whom we share only formal ties. To be asked if we ate is to be acknowledged as someone whose basic comfort matters. It is a question that draws the line between acquaintance and affection.

Some might see this performative question as empty small talk, but in a country where silence can say too much, and directness can feel abrasive, “Khayo?” offers a gentle bridge. It helps us hover near each other’s lives without intruding. It lets us show we care, even when we have no solution for what might be wrong.

In the end, “Khayo?” endures because it does something more profound than feed curiosity: it nourishes relationships. It lets us check in on each other in a culture where care often hides in plain sight. And so, we will keep asking—even when we already know the answer—because sometimes, it’s not the reply that matters, but the comfort of the question itself.