The thing about neighbours…

-EnchantedWorld

The thing about neighbours is that they always leave me soggy. I am mean, sodden, cranky and irritated, when in close encounters of neighbour species.

Shazia aunty was a beautiful woman, with long black hair and a small round bindi on her forehead. Ritu and Anu, her children were my playmates. I liked Ritu, she was innocent and shared her toys with me.

When we grew up, we went different ways. But Shazia aunty used to call my mom, every single semester result day. The universities always announced the semester results of engineering through the dailies. Few times, it so happened that it was she who heralded us that the results were out, with her pesky calls. She just wanted to know the percentage, so that she could pester Ritu for not having scored that, or gloat to mom about Ritu’s higher percentage.

I had a thing for neighbours from then on. I hated nosey parkers.

Then I got married and came to this new country. But you see like they say, “You can find Gafoorkka’s Thattukada* even on moon” about the omnipresence of Malayalis, so was the case here too. Even in this desert, my neighbour was not a chic Banglorean, or a forward Northie or even an intelligent Tam-Bram.

I wonder how God managed to give me a neighbour called Razia, the perfect alliteration to Shazia.

Sometimes, it is when we see the actions and reactions of our off springs (esp. in the infant/ toddler/preschool category) that you realize that your animations and ‘drama-queening’ is what has rubbed off on them.

So is Junior Razia with her airs and graces. It drives me up the wall to watch a kid with so much of bigheaded attitude. All of a royal 5 years.

 “Rehan, don’t come to play in my home today okay? I have so much to study, ok! Don’t come inside!” Neha flexes her bully brains.

I meekly steer a ‘not-understood-anything’ 3 year old toddler on the off side of the verandah, trying to distract him. He, on the other hand, heroine worships Neha.

Five year olds don’t come with that kind of brains; I know it’s the coaching from the mom!

So it was in this state of affairs, that I got a call to my office, asking me to discreetly go to their home, when I return. I went in puzzled and there was Razia with the drama.

Razia, that day had heard the maid beating my dotty at home. As she explained complete with the frills and laces, I was blown away. I couldn’t suppress my sobs, as I imagined my dotty being hit. I asked Razia, “Why didn’t you ring the bell and make her open the door, if you really suspected something?” She gave some excuse for that, which I don’t recall now.

That night, I took my 3 year old out. I asked him repeatedly and in round robin ways if the maid had hit him. He said NO. Then I asked him if he ever beat him or his sister. The child kept saying NO. I was not satisfied.

I have fixed a hidden camera in the bedroom. I have been taping for three days now on a row. So far, the maid seems to be normal, not the child psychopath that Razia’s imagination had created.

But I am being careful anyways. My husband keeps springing up unexpectedly at home to check out the kids and I go back home at all sorts of time. If there is any misbehavior, we don’t want to be taking chances.

As for Razia, you know. I have a thing about neighbours. I hate them.

Glossary

Gafoorka’s Thattukada- Brother Gaffoor’s Streetside Teashop

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