Along the drab roads of a concrete jungle , rainbows are a welcome sight. There is vivacity, a resurgent spirit that comes with a mix of the earth’s elements- something like fire and water coming together, sizzling and then splashing into colours in the name of a RAINBOW(and of course, rainbows are harbingers of hope as well, that despite all the tussle between man and nature, the latter endures and showers whatsoever for the parched earth )…
An apartment for a home – “Vasudhaiva Kutumbhakam”(it means- “the world is your family”)
In the midst of this concrete jungle, self and husband and my six-month old daughter took up residence in an apartment, which not only promised comfort but also projected a strong sense of community-living. It celebrated neighbourliness in all aspects and, much to our surprise, when people preferred to shut themselves in to avoid nosey parkers, our neighbours welcomed the “aamney-samney” with open doors and open arms as well. The community spirit always rose above the skirmishes and the clashes prevalent in a cooperative society. After all, conflicts were pertinent to keep the bonding live.
Nurturing the family, within a larger family
It had been two years since I had become a part of this community living. It was therefore less wonder that there was much fanfare with a new addition to my family. Neighbours poured in, to bless the baby and extend a helping hand, for any impending crises bound to erupt with two kids with a small age difference, who could wreak havoc on a mother’s enduring power. Some did not hide their curiosity and astonishment for bringing in another member, too soon. I could never stop amusing myself, when my dearest neighbour and friend, would even hint at family planning and protected s*x measures not being fool -proof. (seldom did they realize that freak accidents took place even while getting physical for “love”, with the least intention of bringing out an offspring from the whole affair )
In cahoots- Colourful condoms - which colour do you choose?
Then, one fine day, my neighbour buzzed in, in an agitated state. There was severe blockage in one of the drain pipes. In rhythm with the daily maintenance of an apartment, one of the main drain pipes was found to be blocked and that threatened to put a stopper to the water outflow. To put a lid on the burning issue, was the discovery of condoms, that were callously flushed down the toilet and was termed to be the cause for the block. My neighbour was looking for a reaction, while narrating all this. I cautiously and calmly reassured her, that self and the husband, were leading the life of hermits, and neither of us wanted to test the virility of the male or the fertility of the female entities involved here.
With all our energies exhausted in fielding the demands of duelling siblings , could there have been any room for THIS? That was reason enough for my neighbour to strike us out from the blacklisted suspects.
The needle of suspicion – caught in the act!
With a hullabaloo centred on the source of colourful condoms, many residents gathered outside in the common area. Heated discussions went on about the callousness of the culprits in the whole affair. One elderly lady blatantly declared that condom packs should neatly come with detailed instructions on their disposal(for a small pack, will they focus on lurid depictions to kindle the fire, or write boring lines of text, to turn- off a prospective consumer?). Another piped in saying that it was a shameful thing to flush them down the toilet, rather than neatly packaging them in newspapers and trashing them. After all, the contention was, if love-making was a secret affair, the assortment of techniques used to make it protective and non-procreative, should be even more secretive.
As the atmosphere was heated with discomfort, with shifty looks passing from one couple to the other, I threw myself into convulsed yet silenced laughter(which my fellow neighbours, sure would have perceived as shivers of exhaustion of long and lively nights). That was when the gathered residents blurted out with plausible and justifiable explanations. A few excerpts:
(With the evidence and deliberations of the active neighbours, Hercule Poirot, had he been roped in to solve the mystery, would have employed his little grey cells to the greatest measure with no less twirling of his moustache)
At the outset, it was no less than King Arthur’s round table conference, the only difference being that there were no chivalrous knights gathered for a noble cause. But scandalised residents, who wanted to bang their heads about “undercover love” and its exposure, treating it like one big scam of the century!
As the afternoon sun hammered down on the anvil of the condoms’ episode, the assembly started to show signs of restlessness. But they wanted a resolution to prevent the recurrence of colourful condoms, captured agape in their sorry-full state. The blockage issues apart, they wanted to highlight about the best disposal mechanisms of colourful condoms. They wondered if they could use the association forum, and put across their communication in black and white about the incident and its disastrous consequences. Someone else suggested a call for a meeting (as if a collective body could influence individual tastes/lifestyles, by bringing about a depiction of the kama sutra or the modern erotica that would understate the need for colourful condoms)
But they shirked from making it public (what privacy was left in the whole episode, I wondered, the colours of the night had come to light).
Later, it was decided, that we would rely on the old reliable “word-of-mouth” to spread the news to the blissfully unaware residents. After all they too needed that bit of colour in their life. I personally was of the opinion that the condoms should enjoy more spotlight, after being the hotbed of discussions for almost a week. More so, they were plumbed out from the deepest annals of Love in the Making. Where did those annals lead from, still remained a mystery but the colours it brought out still remains green and vivid in the memory.
An apartment for a home – “Vasudhaiva Kutumbhakam”(it means- “the world is your family”)
In the midst of this concrete jungle, self and husband and my six-month old daughter took up residence in an apartment, which not only promised comfort but also projected a strong sense of community-living. It celebrated neighbourliness in all aspects and, much to our surprise, when people preferred to shut themselves in to avoid nosey parkers, our neighbours welcomed the “aamney-samney” with open doors and open arms as well. The community spirit always rose above the skirmishes and the clashes prevalent in a cooperative society. After all, conflicts were pertinent to keep the bonding live.
Nurturing the family, within a larger family
It had been two years since I had become a part of this community living. It was therefore less wonder that there was much fanfare with a new addition to my family. Neighbours poured in, to bless the baby and extend a helping hand, for any impending crises bound to erupt with two kids with a small age difference, who could wreak havoc on a mother’s enduring power. Some did not hide their curiosity and astonishment for bringing in another member, too soon. I could never stop amusing myself, when my dearest neighbour and friend, would even hint at family planning and protected s*x measures not being fool -proof. (seldom did they realize that freak accidents took place even while getting physical for “love”, with the least intention of bringing out an offspring from the whole affair )
In cahoots- Colourful condoms - which colour do you choose?
Then, one fine day, my neighbour buzzed in, in an agitated state. There was severe blockage in one of the drain pipes. In rhythm with the daily maintenance of an apartment, one of the main drain pipes was found to be blocked and that threatened to put a stopper to the water outflow. To put a lid on the burning issue, was the discovery of condoms, that were callously flushed down the toilet and was termed to be the cause for the block. My neighbour was looking for a reaction, while narrating all this. I cautiously and calmly reassured her, that self and the husband, were leading the life of hermits, and neither of us wanted to test the virility of the male or the fertility of the female entities involved here.
With all our energies exhausted in fielding the demands of duelling siblings , could there have been any room for THIS? That was reason enough for my neighbour to strike us out from the blacklisted suspects.
The needle of suspicion – caught in the act!
With a hullabaloo centred on the source of colourful condoms, many residents gathered outside in the common area. Heated discussions went on about the callousness of the culprits in the whole affair. One elderly lady blatantly declared that condom packs should neatly come with detailed instructions on their disposal(for a small pack, will they focus on lurid depictions to kindle the fire, or write boring lines of text, to turn- off a prospective consumer?). Another piped in saying that it was a shameful thing to flush them down the toilet, rather than neatly packaging them in newspapers and trashing them. After all, the contention was, if love-making was a secret affair, the assortment of techniques used to make it protective and non-procreative, should be even more secretive.
As the atmosphere was heated with discomfort, with shifty looks passing from one couple to the other, I threw myself into convulsed yet silenced laughter(which my fellow neighbours, sure would have perceived as shivers of exhaustion of long and lively nights). That was when the gathered residents blurted out with plausible and justifiable explanations. A few excerpts:
- The lady from the next block who had wrapped up her family-raising with a single child told “I had got myself operated long while ago. We don’t have use for condoms in our household”.(Well, if you go by the ads, there are those fancy condoms, which are simply used for pleasure. Now, we did not have evidence enough from the salvaged lot, whether they were used for pleasure or protection. So, she was not refuted)
- The elderly couple present were squeamish about the whole affair muttering about the over-indulgence in physical pleasures and bringing down the reputation of a respectable community. They started to recall the old days, when such things never left the premises of a bedroom. Their conclusion was that the modern age was getting saturated with the “besharam” couples.
- There was this newly moved in married young people. Pretty-looking wife, handsome hunk for a husband and an endearing 3-year old, who according to neighbourly wisdom would have never been ready for another sibling. She was much abashed, when one naughty neighbour, teased her, whether she was still “in-progress”. (it’s a shame that the Indian mindset still brands well-dressed women of any age, as the roaring flames of the night. For them, there is not even the narrowest escape from the route to seduction). I could only sympathise with the young wife, as a deep colour rose to her cheeks, to match with the well-smeared kumkum on her forehead.
- A wise and wily neighbour pointed out about a newly married couple, residing in the floor just below hers. She said that there was all possibility, they were the ‘progenitors’ of the colourful condoms, as she had seen them engaging in foreplay(which according to her, was pinching the butt, and stroking the cheek), during every “private” moment, stolen from prying eyes . Why could she not perceive them as mild or mere expressions of love? To add conviction to her theory, she mentioned about love bites(with the mosquito infestation in the place, it could have very well been the bugs' doing ) and faint moaning sounds that have stirred her awake.(all for the impervious and sound –proof nature of concrete buildings, I am sure she was blessed with bat-ears, or that she herself was making her nights live to be imagining on the same wavelength!), which precisely pointed to a singular source- the newly- weds right below!
(With the evidence and deliberations of the active neighbours, Hercule Poirot, had he been roped in to solve the mystery, would have employed his little grey cells to the greatest measure with no less twirling of his moustache)
At the outset, it was no less than King Arthur’s round table conference, the only difference being that there were no chivalrous knights gathered for a noble cause. But scandalised residents, who wanted to bang their heads about “undercover love” and its exposure, treating it like one big scam of the century!
As the afternoon sun hammered down on the anvil of the condoms’ episode, the assembly started to show signs of restlessness. But they wanted a resolution to prevent the recurrence of colourful condoms, captured agape in their sorry-full state. The blockage issues apart, they wanted to highlight about the best disposal mechanisms of colourful condoms. They wondered if they could use the association forum, and put across their communication in black and white about the incident and its disastrous consequences. Someone else suggested a call for a meeting (as if a collective body could influence individual tastes/lifestyles, by bringing about a depiction of the kama sutra or the modern erotica that would understate the need for colourful condoms)
But they shirked from making it public (what privacy was left in the whole episode, I wondered, the colours of the night had come to light).
Later, it was decided, that we would rely on the old reliable “word-of-mouth” to spread the news to the blissfully unaware residents. After all they too needed that bit of colour in their life. I personally was of the opinion that the condoms should enjoy more spotlight, after being the hotbed of discussions for almost a week. More so, they were plumbed out from the deepest annals of Love in the Making. Where did those annals lead from, still remained a mystery but the colours it brought out still remains green and vivid in the memory.
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