Every morning I wake up at the whistle of a tea kettle boiling a floor above mine. I brush my teeth to the whining of a young kid next door who is being dragged to school by his parents. The sounds of showers from the neighbors help me shrug off my laziness.
Yes, this is how we end up sharing the finer aspects of our lives when we share the same buildings. Complex/ Flat culture has been growing at a rapid rate these days. Metros have found an easy and effective alternative to cramped spaces and individual safety. Flats of all shapes and prices are mushrooming in every nook and corner. People erase their bungalows to construct high rise buildings .
For someone like me who has spent her entire life in open houses with huge verandahs and lawns ahead, flats are an irritant. They seem a compromise on the liberated life I would have otherwise lived. The following is a brief snapshot of why I just condemn this culture.
For someone like me who has spent her entire life in open houses with huge verandahs and lawns ahead, flats are an irritant. They seem a compromise on the liberated life I would have otherwise lived. The following is a brief snapshot of why I just condemn this culture.
7. 30 AM - I open my curtains to stare at my neighbor, preparing lunch box for her kids. Once done, her sole time pass is to pry on my coffee, breakfast, my radio, my night clothes. Enough! I draw my curtains again :(
8.30 AM - I struggle with my door locks and aunty living back door comes and sprawls on her sofa, only to observe my clothing conduct. She is also the one who has tactical interest in my dustbin kept out every morning for garbage collection. Looks like she is prepping up for her afternoon gossip masala.
8.30 AM - I struggle with my door locks and aunty living back door comes and sprawls on her sofa, only to observe my clothing conduct. She is also the one who has tactical interest in my dustbin kept out every morning for garbage collection. Looks like she is prepping up for her afternoon gossip masala.
7.00 PM - I unlock my door again to the sight of same aunty spread on the sofa with a glum face. What a strategic location of the sofa.
8.30 PM - Its time for the children to return home after their evening games. My TV is on while I do the mise for dinner. All directions echo the characteristic sound of nagging mothers haunting their young ones either for milk or studies. I have to strain my hearing power to listen what is going on in my favorite daily soap.
10.30 PM - I am yearning to catch some good sleep and the smallie just a floor above is playing with rocks. My ceiling bangs after every regular interval of 25 seconds. Earplug Alert!
Besides these punctual headaches there are hoards of other nasty reasons why I wish for a bungalow for myself. I do not want to be an audience to a piercing, high pitched rendition of my favorite romantic number by some paunchy relic living a floor below. It is irritating to hear the maids calling out from ground zero to the top floor on how they won't be able to make it for work again because their cows are unwell.
Almost daily I resist the strong desire to go out and look for some independent stand alone house and almost daily I kill my urge. I am willing to compromise on security but space these days comes at a heavy price. The idea of sharing a joke over a cup of coffee with my best friend in a flowery lawn is a becoming a distant dream day by day.
No wonder I have started looking for space in relationships :)
