[Some snippets of (non) happenings in my society, which I jotted down to divert my mind from news headlines about the terrible trail of death across the world]
* I don't know about other places, but in my area, there are even fewer people on roads. The morning milk buyers have also disappeared, mostly. And all talk of nature reclaiming itself notwithstanding, I am missing humans. I am missing the hustle and bustle and even the incessant honking which otherwise irritates me so much. I hardly interact with them, but I want to see the aloo tikki seller with his too-large-to -bring-in-a -crowded-market tawa, the crisp brown patties soaked in cheap oil, "Gupta jee" ka 10 rupaye ka burger in a glass box, the fruit-juice guy with his never-cleaned machine, the children from Madrasi Basti (sorry, it is called by that name) playing in the park in front of the temple, the solitary madman in a tattered shirt, the elderly Tamil lady frying vadas in a cart placed in close proximity to the garbage dump - where have they gone? In their homes, or some of them were part of that long march back to their villages?
I don't know, but next time I see them, I will try to know more about them.
* The first week of lockdown was a smooth affair for neighbours. I could hear them laughing and gossiping with each other across the isle. But now, they seem to be a bit anxious, especially after the markaz cluster outbreak. The teenager next door who used to listen to "Lamborghini Chalayi Jaane Oo" in top volume, were yesterday unleashing a long angry rant directed at her mother. I can understand Punjabi only if one speaks slowly (therein lies the catch!). What I could gather was that she was upset about her mom going out to buy something. The other side's responses were unusually low and defensive.
* While SDMC vehicles, using water jets to clean roads and buildings, visited the locality twice last week, our RWA guys sprayed disinfectant on stairs and doors yesterday. I rushed to close the narrow gap under the door with newspapers as I felt the crawling insects will come inside. My nameplate and the tricolour I pasted on the door also got soaked in phenyl. I can think of some symbolism there, but mere paas utna bhi khali time nahi hai.
* I don't know about other places, but in my area, there are even fewer people on roads. The morning milk buyers have also disappeared, mostly. And all talk of nature reclaiming itself notwithstanding, I am missing humans. I am missing the hustle and bustle and even the incessant honking which otherwise irritates me so much. I hardly interact with them, but I want to see the aloo tikki seller with his too-large-to -bring-in-a -crowded-market tawa, the crisp brown patties soaked in cheap oil, "Gupta jee" ka 10 rupaye ka burger in a glass box, the fruit-juice guy with his never-cleaned machine, the children from Madrasi Basti (sorry, it is called by that name) playing in the park in front of the temple, the solitary madman in a tattered shirt, the elderly Tamil lady frying vadas in a cart placed in close proximity to the garbage dump - where have they gone? In their homes, or some of them were part of that long march back to their villages?
I don't know, but next time I see them, I will try to know more about them.
* The first week of lockdown was a smooth affair for neighbours. I could hear them laughing and gossiping with each other across the isle. But now, they seem to be a bit anxious, especially after the markaz cluster outbreak. The teenager next door who used to listen to "Lamborghini Chalayi Jaane Oo" in top volume, were yesterday unleashing a long angry rant directed at her mother. I can understand Punjabi only if one speaks slowly (therein lies the catch!). What I could gather was that she was upset about her mom going out to buy something. The other side's responses were unusually low and defensive.
* While SDMC vehicles, using water jets to clean roads and buildings, visited the locality twice last week, our RWA guys sprayed disinfectant on stairs and doors yesterday. I rushed to close the narrow gap under the door with newspapers as I felt the crawling insects will come inside. My nameplate and the tricolour I pasted on the door also got soaked in phenyl. I can think of some symbolism there, but mere paas utna bhi khali time nahi hai.
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