Since I started working, I have kept away from a lot of everyday happenings that take place in and around home. When we were tiny kids, neighbors were part of everyday life - in terms of sharing, listening and caring. Starting from the older generation of grandmothers and then the mothers to the younger generation of us, everyone had someone in the neighborhood to speak and relate to. Anyone would term the experience as pleasant. It seems I should be missing my neighbors now as I come to work and keep away from home. But I don't - from where I live now.
The east-door neighbors -- its not that I regret that’s the biggest slum in the area. They have no place to go with their property sold off to make a living in this city and they have the right to live. However, I do regret their Bangla vocabulary. As the slum stretches over 3 plots of land, everyday their practice of this rich vocabulary starts early in the morning when they have to compete who's going to access the water first. And to add to this - the 'line of access' forms just infront of the room I and my little sister stay. I have no clue (and don’t intend to have) about the meanings of half of the words they use at each other. When it starts it never ends - after 10 minutes you will hear a small spat turning into 50 people brawling in that small space that can neither handle the force nor the sound and therefore spills all over the surrounding! The nights end similarly but on a different note or issue which is better not to elaborate on. And the recent developments in the electricity situation bring these practice sessions into limelight. At 12 AM, with no electricity to cool it down, I find myself staring at the ceiling with those sounds of 'the vocabulary' coming in through the window. All we can do is pray these people get guidance or be educated for the right words.
In the west - it’s a proper building and it's a teenager's room facing our window. Yes -a conventional teenager. Even shut windows cannot mute out the multinational rock & roll music shouting out to the world of its fan's existence!
In the south, there's something in between a slum and a building. So you get a cocktail of what goes on in the east and the west, literally. There is the brawl, the 'rich vocabulary' and the music as well. There are also the ladies sitting near the window analyzing and wondering what my brother does the whole day sitting infront of the PC inside his room! Lord Bless him.
The north door comes into play when we have our food. The sound of this neighbor is also neither muted nor private as it comes in through. The sounds have started coming in since it was born. We can trace it growing by the sounds it makes. First it was only the impatient crying, and then it was the gurgling sounds of laughter as his brother played around. Now we hear the father trying to make the little baby stand on his own. At times he crawls near the window and peeps out, calling out in unknown language and with the large eyes popping out in awe. With his hair sticking out in natural spikes, he holds the rails and shakes his body in some kind of rhythm. The tiny thing that he is and the small sounds that he makes take away all the unpleasantness coming in from the other three angles. Such a contrast and blessing - no wonder!
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