A Walk to the Park

There is a reason I do not get out of home. A very good reason.

Neighbors.

Call it Fate, Karma whatever. But I live bang in the middle of a street that puts the word Neighbour on par with Terrorism. Not a day goes by when i wonder how peaceful life would be if I had lived elsewhere. My Neighbours actually make getting out of the house a task that requires stealth, speed and a conniving nature. Which I unfortunately lack. The street houses a myriad bunch of lunatics. And I am being polite.

They are in-escapable. You cannot go out to buy groceries or even a simple bag of crisps. You cannot expect silence. And you definitely cannot reach the Park for a Walk.

Right opposite live Sir Bald-Head Sour-Face and Lady Fat-Ass (Original names we christened them with cannot be mentioned for decency's sake). In short Baldy and Fatty. They are a match made in heaven, and what a sight they are to see. Him, all short stout and sneering, and her, towering a foot and a half above him with hair that puts Medusa to instant shame. They have let loose on the world numerous children, who in turn have let loose an insane number of screaming, crying, screeching grandchildren. Needless to say Fatty and Baldy are very proud every time the kids torture the dogs, break window panes and generally make the world a very noisy place. These kids have really...Really...made me appreciate the value of silence.And if you try to step out they feel free to pelt you with stones, tennis balls , or whatever else they may happen to have in their hands or, care to pick up from the street. I almost break down in relief when the entire clan leaves for the Village during Summer Hols.

And Iron Man. (Because it is apparently impolite to call him Dhobi, although thats what he really is.) Has rented out a shop beneath Fatty and Baldy's residence. Iron Man is very sweet, and not to mention useful. (you'd realize if you were very late to work, the electricity goes off, and you're standing with a very crumpled shirt in your hand. And are rescued by Iron Man who smoothens the creases and makes you look civilized when you land up at work). No he is not the problem. But imagine you decide to walk out to the balcony to get a breath of much needed fresh air....and your vision is blocked by a huge, hairy man in trousers and a vest, staring up at you while Iron Man irons his shirt.Nightmare.Balcony therefore rotting and unused.

And Colonel LIC. Next Door on the Left. An ex army man who decided Insurance is the best thing to do post retirement. Curse the day he found out I was employed. Everytime he sees me he decides to stop and tell me one gory tale or other, always inadvertently ending in..."If only they had INSURED themselves..they would have died in peace...tch tch...now see?? You need to get Insurance!! From ME." , in his booming voice that drowns my stutters informing him my insurance is taken care of.

Family Friends. Oh what a misleading term that is! A building down the street that houses five families. I still cant figure how they are our family Friends, since that is exactly how they describe themselves. And they have been telling me One thing since I was in Class Ten : Get Married. When i reached Class Twelve they told my mother that i was running out of time and all the good guys would be gone. They look at me with such pity in their eyes. They spend the day in front of TV watching Kannada soaps. Cooking Cleaning etc etc happens with Kannada soaps in full blast. Walking into that House and hearing the same evil Laugh blasting forth from five different television sets simultaneously can jangle the nerves, and badly.Everytime i step out I am bound to find one or the other of these women, (since there are so many of them) lounging around on their porches! And they start..."Aiyo ...still not planning to get married????".

Psychopath-Nerd. Next door on the Right. Apparently four years in an IIT addled his brains. His pastime is now terrorizing anybody who happens to walk on the road in front of his house, threatening to file a case against them, as his father is a lawyer. Dunno how he'd manage that, as his father has been deceased for very long now, bless his soul. Nevertheless, he has filed complaints against cows for biting off his shrubs (weeds) and chases children with a stick, and will start yelling for his mother if you talk back. And the Mother, she would've made Phoolan Devi look tame. Together they take Danger on the Streets to a whole new Level of Fear.

Getting out now involves techniques adapted from spies of lore and tips picked up from Hollywood thrillers. Opening a particular window and checking for any Nieghbours on the loose...And etc etc... And once the long process is completed.. bolting down and rushing with mad speed to the end of the road and jumping into the first auto you see.

Because God forbid you bump into any of the Neighbours.

Which explains why I sit here ranting about them, instead of that walk I intended to go on.