BENGALURU: The Holi of 1999 is perhaps the happiest memory I have of my neighbours. I was all of 13, and lived with my grandmother in Malleswaram then. The neighbourhood was an uncomplicated crisscross of independent large condominiums, bespangled with gulmohar, coconut, Ashoka, and neem trees. While the trees offered perfect cover for hide-n-seek, the real company in our ‘resident’ lives were our neighbours.
They came from all ages and varied backgrounds and experiences. I went to school with my neighbourhood friends and returned. And then we congregated for play, dispersed, and went home to sleep. It was clockwork. Coming back to Holi, the much-anticipated event drew over 50 people from across the area. It was a riot of colour, water, and excitement. This celebration embodies an ideal Indian neighbourhood -- colourful, noisy, lively, and one that never gives up.
Geographically, our neighbours are supposed to be our closest peers, allies, and confidants. They are where we can find them, and when we face trouble, we and our neighbours are in it together. The Indian neighbourhood is full of life, culture, resilience, and stories to tell. They partake of our happiness and play background music to our daily household swansongs. They are the obvious inclusions in our wedding guest lists, even as they entertain us for an evening cuppa-pakora at home in the evening rain.
I miss my neighbours from 30 years ago. Life was easy, and my friends in the neighbourhood never said ‘no’ to a game of Rummy or Ludo. Returning from school, followed by something to eat, was the ritual before getting down to the street for games. The otherwise calm neighbourhood would explode in chirpy cacophony, which would get a little aggressive at times, especially when a child would not want to part with the bat, after getting stumped in gully cricket.
On other days, we would go eat a softy together or hire autorickshaws to go sightseeing around town. Once, we had even organised a games fest, where we challenged each other to a ‘sack race’, ‘tail the donkey’, and a ‘spoon-and-lemon’ game, where sweet rivalries were born. The dark nights during a blackout were fun in a spooky way, with ghost stories resounding in our midst, as we tiptoed through the surreally quiet neighbourhood.
On one rainy night in 1998, a bald tree fell on some electric wires, plunging the entire city block into pitch darkness. All the neighbours huddled together. Some with landlines at home tried calling up the authorities to inform them about the situation. The adults played Antakshari and gossiped while we children simply rejoiced that we could avoid our homework. Who wanted to use candlelight, anyway? While power was restored the following day, it displayed a typical feature of the Indian neighbourhood. We may be envious of each other individually, but we will always resolve our problems together.
When I lived in Oman for several years, my family was surrounded by an ‘international neighbourhood’. There were Indians, Omanis, Pakistanis, Sri Lankans, Jordanians, Palestinians, Filipinos, Bangladeshis, and Zanzibaris, who lived around our villa. I grew up playing with their children, completely enthralled by the beauty and diversity of the world.
As families, we would spend time together, sharing our food and music, and celebrating our cultural differences, while revisiting our cultural similarities. A neighbourhood is a place where we learn to coexist, respect differences and boundaries, become empathetic, and learn to cherish harmony. The Indian neighbourhood is the most ideal embodiment of ‘unity in diversity’ and a reflection of our multifaceted country.
However, in the last few years, it seems as if we are drifting farther away from our neighbours. Life has become too fast, and we have grown more distant, and entangled in our own busy lives. Gone are those festivals, tuitions, summertime drawing classes, and other joint projects that the neighbours of yore participated in, together.
Humanity is a web of social relationships. We need people, and we need our neighbours. Our city needs us all together. All that’s required is a daily smile over the parapet wall!
(The writer’s views are personal)