Friday, May 17, 2013

My Neighbors Must Be Zamonian, And Living In Tornado City.

I have very wonderful and very delusional (and at the risk of having too many very s in a sentence) very very baffling neighbors. Wonderful because I practically grew up in their house. (I had a busy mother and a very irresponsible father)  and delusional because they are somehow wrapped in this time warp, where things never changed after 2001. 

2001 is the year  mom and I,  moved out of our rented neighbor's shelter, to our own flat, just bang opposite to it. It was exhilarating, terrifying but something we grew to adjust and love. My neighbors, though, never managed to move on. They still send me lollipops and make berry pickles that I used to adore as a kid. This they do without even expecting a thank you or anything in return. They love us to the point of  almost being stalker-ish, keeping track of every movement in and out of our house, they are the reason why   I sometimes keep my doors and windows closed for fear of being caught doing something weird like I dunno dancing? (I dance when I can't take it anymore). we haven't been robbed  They call our land line number, even though they really just need to talk to my mother, just in the hope that I'll pick up the phone and they'll get to talk to me. 

I had tried to resolve their complaints about me not visiting them often enough by actually visiting them....but when I did, they would end up reminiscing about my childhood,(to the point that you know what's the next thing X is going to say, by heart)....this went on till I gave in to the most obvious fact: these visits were boring the daylights out of me. Plus? They would ask me all kinds of questions where you'd have that uneasy feeling that you're adding spice to their giant gossip cauldron. It does not help that most of them are an aging lot. So you don't know if anger is the right kind of emotion you should be feeling here. 

Why am I writing about this? Because I cannot resolve my feelings about my neighbors. I don't think  I even understand them. I'm not a teenager. I know how two- faced people can be. I'm used to being in a situation where people need something from me, and vice versa and that's what you call a "trade" in economic terms. Most of all human relationships are based on some sort of give and take. And then you have these people living next to me, who give...and then some more. And they don't really give a fuck about all the times I've been shitty to them. I just don't get it. How do you deal with this? How do you hide behind some way of blaming them for doing something or the other wrong...when the only thing that's guiding them...all the time 

They love this 11 year old version of me, and they've watched me grow till 11. And after that they've stopped. They've become blind to who I've become today. And any reaction from me? Is either blamed on my moods, or my appetite (oh you must be so grumpy, because you're hungry. Let's fix something for you".....I know it sounds awful nice here, but sometimes I want to scream and then I don't because I know they'll probably just blame my screaming on me  spotting  some ghost or whatever "just like you did as a kid" . Maybe they do get that I'm a University going adult, but they don't see it, my actual life is  like a fairy tale to them "Oooo our D is going to be so great one day! She's going to be calling all the shots" so I go like " yeah, then a handsome prince is going to come galloping in a white horse and we will live happily ever after." and they squeal with delight and add "yes, but make sure he lets you work, you know? Working is a good thing." 

Seriously I could not even make this up. 


It's like a vicious cycle. 

A cycle of love that I've unwittingly been caught in. 

It's a gift, actually.

The kind of gift you leave ignored in a corner, and then when you stumble upon it twenty odd years later, it's just as you left it, unfazed, untainted by time...and it gives you everything that it was there to give you. 

Now, that I think about it? 

It's kind of wonderful. 

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