Weeknote #24 [W26.11] - Moving in, the kids downstairs, and the loss of privacy

On Sunday (March 8), I moved to my new place in Bandepalya.

Within a couple of hours, I was greeted by three kids — Zainab, Luqman, and Suraiya — my downstairs neighbours’ children.

Before finalizing the flat, I had asked their uncle — the owner of the flat — if it would be okay to bring a cat. This information had evidently reached the kids, and they had been waiting for me to arrive so that they could meet Malcolm.

In my previous place, I didn’t know any of my neighbours by name. That had been intentional. Being anonymous comes with a greater sense of privacy. And I like my privacy. So I had no intention of changing that this time around.

But I guess that’s not going to be possible now.

The three of them have been coming over every day. On Monday, they showed up straight from school, still carrying their school bags, and settled in as if my flat were their own. Later at night, they brought me some of the biryani their mother had made. The next day, I sent down some mutton curry.

I find the whole thing very sweet — and horrifying!

Kids can be a menace.

First, they do not truly understand that you may have things to do which do not involve entertaining them. I spend a good 3-4 hours everyday now with them trying to either keep them occupied or trying to get them to leave. Sometimes all three arrive together, sometimes one at a time, but once they’re in, they stay. If one agrees to go back, another refuses. The rotation continues.

And then there are the questions.

“Are you Muslim?”

“No.”

“Hindu?”

“No.”

“Christian?”

“No.”

“Then what are you?”

I tried explaining that I don’t follow any religion. But that didn’t satisfy them much.

I wondered if I should explain further that I am an atheist, and why I don’t like religion… but then, I don’t want to get in trouble with their parents.

Then came, “Where is aunty?”

For a moment, I thought they meant my mother. But I was the uncle here. They were asking about my non-existent wife. I told them that I do not have an “aunty”. Suraiya, the youngest, didn’t seem very convinced. Everyone else in the building is married. I don’t think she can imagine that there can be an uncle without an aunty. She has asked me the same question at least three times since