There was a young man. He hailed from a small town. He came from a well-to-do family, yet he was simple-hearted and unassuming—a truly sociable fellow.
One day, he crossed paths with another young man of his own age.
Through the course of their conversation, the two became friends.
They were quite alike in nature. However, there were two distinct differences between them.
The first was that the other young man came from a very poor family—one where arranging even two square meals a day was often a struggle.
The second difference was that he had been blind since birth; he had never known the sensation of sight. He perceived and understood the world by feeling his way through it.
Nevertheless, their friendship gradually deepened. They began meeting frequently.
One day, the young man invited his blind friend over for a meal.
The latter accepted the invitation with delight.
Since his friend was visiting for a meal for the very first time, the host spared no effort to be the perfect host. He prepared a wide variety of dishes and delicacies.
The two friends shared the meal together.
The blind friend was thoroughly enjoying himself; for one, it was the first time in his life he had ever tasted such delicious food.
Furthermore, there were several items on the menu that he had never eaten before—including *Kheer* (rice pudding). As he was eating the *Kheer*, he asked:
"My friend, what is this dish? It tastes absolutely delicious!"
His friend was pleased. With great enthusiasm, he explained that it was *Kheer*.
The blind friend then asked, "So, what does this *Kheer* look like?"
"Exactly like milk—white."
But how could someone who had never seen the light of day possibly distinguish between white and black? So, he asked: "White? What is that like?"
The friend found himself in a quandary. How could he possibly explain what "white" looked like? He tried various methods to describe it, but nothing seemed to work.
Finally, he said, "My friend, white is exactly like an egret." "And what does a heron look like?"
Now arose another predicament: how was he to explain what a heron looked like? After several attempts, a clever idea struck him.
He extended his arm, brought his fingers together to form the shape of a beak, and bent his hand at the wrist.
Then, bending his arm at the elbow, he said:
"Here—touch it and see what a heron looks like."
His visually impaired friend, filled with curiosity, reached out with both hands and began to explore his friend's arm by touch.
Although he was currently attempting to grasp the physical form of a heron, his mind remained preoccupied with a different curiosity: what, exactly, was *kheer* like?
Once he had thoroughly felt the arm, he remarked with a touch of astonishment: "Oh my! This *kheer* turns out to be quite a crooked thing!"
He then went back to enjoying his *kheer*. But by that time, the *kheer* had indeed become "crooked." That is to say, the phrase "crooked *kheer*" had now become an idiom—a metaphor for any difficult or complex task.