Sidewalks

I want sidewalks without the slums, the smells, sights and utter hopelessness of poverty staring at me every time I step onto the broken paver block pathways. I don't have anything against the poor. My heart goes out to their plight, but I want my sidewalk. Maybe sidewalks with flowerbeds and treelined like in the Hollywood movies. I want to walk along the beach without worrying about the laschiviousness that greets my clothes. I want to stand alone and stare at the sea or the long winding road without wondering whether the men think am there to be solicited.

These are the worries I face as a middle class Indian woman. I have to battle for walking space outside the square foot I call my home, as the pavement belongs to the slum dwellers and the skies to the moneyed. So what do I own in this city. My small 800 square foot. I am not allowed anger against the system 'cos am constantly reminded to offer thanks for small mercies and that at least our system is better than that of a few other countries. Like that's supposed to make me feel happy or safe. Yes I must also pay my taxes, but for whom are these taxes, yes to build the sidewalks.

They've now taken not just the sidewalk but also my street and I drive almost apologetically on it. Oh yes, now that I have a car I need to be careful about driving on the road so that the ones who live on my sidewalk can play, dance, sit and sleep on the road on which am supposed to drive. Yes, forgive me if I happen to interrupt their sunday game or evening slouch on the pavement with a cuppa in their hand, sorry, how silly of me for not being a little more vigilant about the leg stretched out on the road while slouching on the pavement and having an animated conversation with the neighbouring slum dweller.

For if I've run over them or nudged them with my car for no fault of mine as I definitely were not drinking. Am met with glares and groups who may take out rallies against me for being so insensitive. When I walk past their homes they stare at me angrily, a look of how dare you covet our space, go find your own, and a look of defiance when there's anger writ large on my face when I have to sidestep the mound with flies hovering over it or the puddle of wasted food from dishes washed on the sidewalk or peoples discards.

I want this city as I too belong to it as I cannot walk down the Altamounts, Woodehouses and Breach Candys. I get shooed away by the security who actually live on these sidewalks. I haven't come to gawk or steal, I just want to stroll in the shade or smell the flowers but am not allowed here either. So where does this forgotten middle-class woman walk?

Deaf But Not Mute

Have you noticed how people do not listen to you or do they not hear you? Let me explain. Hypothetically, you talk about how your child does not toe the curfew line of 8:30pm and how you've set the slate right with a chat about the perils with grounding. You were affirming about having handled the situation well from problem to solution.

Now when you've introduced this subject as part of your conversation or tete a tete, it was not you whining, complaining, not a question, not a conversation starter, but there you have the wisest Magu or Rafiki (though I love and respect Rafiki) of the lot tell you (and I hear condescension) how to handle the situation with.... "If that doesn't happen, your child will get raped, molested or will become a drug addict or will become a waster and not succeed in life...."

All things you had already advised your child about (How to raise a family, how to succeed in life monetarily, how to socialise, how to be married happily ever after) - Noooo! but they the sermonisers hold the tablets and have written the commandment. And yes you must balance all these with a simple mind, simple measures.

You start talking to the Magus or self-appointed wise ones, you think you have them in rapt attention while your talking as they are looking at you - or are they looking through you? What gives them away is when they repeat everything you've just said as the solution to what they think is you announcing a problem.

Hey! that's exactly what I just said; so did they not hear me? All you are doing is stating, but you will promptly be given the SOP manual on how to handle the friend or gardener or maid or spouse and pretty much everything else.

Why do people not pause and listen? Like when you tell your spouse "Oh! I ate that cake at Rita's, now my jeans don't fit!" Promptly a head appears with a voice following "Who told you to eat that cake...!" I know I didn't need to eat that cake but it was staring at me, I just need a silent, patient hearing.

Oh well I've been guilty of this with the kids; all their banter and mishaps - which have been gracefully handled by them - is followed with sermons and stoic expression..