The D Neighbours and the Seven Dwarfs 🍎

God knows that there is a huge need for galling people in your life to attain patience. We dodge and tackle all the atrocious people, we manage somehow, BUT there’s this one gadfly that will irk you even when you reach heaven. Those fine humans with animal cells planted in their body and wrath planted in their witless brain our, The Neighbours. Not Neighbours, not a Neighbour, but THE NEIGHBOURS.

However, some are the irksome people leaving by your side to annoy every nerve cells until you screech to the neurologist.

Bug to the “Hello Ji!”. Rescue!!!

That one “Hello” with O’s neverending sound is like the bee that vexes you till death in the library. ZZZZZZZ

Our G Neighbours were moving out and the D Neighbours were moving in. It was a swap up in the third apartment on our floor. The D Neighbours swiftly shifted without any noise, just an iota of different voices blaring at our ears. The perfectly normal situation in the Indian Gricha Pravesh. You can deem it as another jol of entering the ‘home sweet home’ and making the neighbour’s day ‘sour home sour’.

The Doyenne and The Oke met the D Neighbours in the lift lobby. I certainly met them on Diwali.

Uncomplete “Happy…” because of Diwali

Indians paint the town red on Diwali and smoke the sky grey at the Diwali as well. If you aren’t familiar with this whole Diwali enthusiasm, let me help you define it in three plain phrases which you won’t grasp even in the thesaurus:

1. Gifts of dry fruits

2. Neighbourly check in each other’s house

3. Crackers crack the road itself by the morning

Ample.

Ahh, one point has not noted milord! Even if you have no connection with the neighbours and haven’t even talked to them once, you still need to entail a trip to their house with gifts otherwise it is humiliating for the Neighbours. In case you ‘humiliate’ the ‘Nieghbours’ your name will be penned down as a grubby one by the people in the WhatsApp group. So… People usually play it safe and take a little trip to their Neighbours.

There they stepped into our house, the D Neighbours. I was expecting at least two people but they entered with the little boy, the little girl, the grandparents, the bua, the parents. Was I in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs?

Then began the other traditional Hellos with O’s which seem like they would never reach a climax but they, fortunately, do as the Neighbours make themselves comfortable on your living room sofa.

I was upstairs with the Dear Amigo. Talking business or gisting about how we inserted loads of sweets in our peckish mouth. Dear Amigo was lying on the bed while I was probably imparting out my dynamic adventures of the day when The Doyenne grasped the handle of my room door and enters my world. She tells us to accompany the little boy of age six. We were pretty cool with the tiny babysitting job we had been given. At least, I was.

“Okay!” I said with an expression that said, It is just a little boy.

Dear Amigo flung her head towards the window and spill the tea in my ears, “Yaar! Not this guy!”

She had quite of a meeting with the little boy and it wasn’t the best experience of her life. The little boy went further speaking senselessly and called Dear Amigo by the infuriating nickname he had invented himself for her. He started touching our precious toys which we were extremely possessive about and that is when the wrath occurred in our vein, started to flow.

I kept saying, “Not that..err not... that... one too!” THE LITTLE BOY WASN’T ACTING LIKE A LITTLE ONE AFTER ALL.

“We need a plan.” I sincerely nodded at Dear Amigo. We made a plan standing in the corner of my room. Puberty hadn’t hit us back then but we felt like it did.

PLAN

I would take the little boy downstairs with the toy he was engrossed with and will beam a little to make a ‘happy’ environment. Then, when he isn’t eyeing me, I will grab my speed and make the acceleration take place, trot up the stairs, and reach back in the room where Dear Amigo would wait.

Dear Amigo handed the little boy the enthralling toy and said, “This one is sooo good! Isn’t it?”

When he said yes. I flashed down the staircase with him, told him that we were all going downstairs now. I had to grin in front of the D Neighbours and when he wasn’t gazing at me I RAN. I literally, ran.

I opened the door high fived Dear Amigo. We marched with proudness as we have accomplished a paradoxical mission.

We hadn’t. The little boy entered the room again.

This time we chorused it together

“Yaaaaar! Not this guy!”

The Halwas

It is amazing if your galling neighbour turns into a gallant person for a day. We were surprised too. It was eight in the evening and the Deyonne was at the terrace thus I took the weight on my shoulders to open the door. I eyed through the peephole and it was one of D Neighbours, with a Dabba. I swivelled myself to see if mom was there (if she was then I would put the weight on her shoulder). I concluded that I won’t dramatise this like India Television serials. Therefore, I pulled open the door.

The D Neighbour stood with two Dabbas. HUh? I grinned and greeted, “Hello.”. However, my hello didn’t have a neverending O at the last. The D Neighbour grinned back and greeted, “Hiiiiii……”. It was the irking I now. The D Neighbour peeped behind me.

What did she want to see? The same living room where I had dropped his nephew and ran upstairs from?

After watching nothing and realizing that nothing was there, her eyeballs shifted their aim toward me and said, “Accha voh...Is your mom home?”. I answered and the D Neighbourr chirped again, “This is Gajar and Aloo ka Halwa. We made it. Tell your mom that it’s especially for her.”. I was astonished.

That is so sweet of the D Neighbours to make Halwas “especially” for us.

When the Doyenne and the Oke came downstairs from the terrace I told them how the D Neighbours have filled me with their rapturous gesture.

We did the dinner and decided to feed our peckish selves with the Halwas the D Neighbours had made for us. The Doyenne asked Impassive Adult if he wanted any and he came with a bitter reply, “Nah, aap hi khalo.”.

I gave a ‘meh’ look at him and gawked back at the Halwas. The Doyenne placed some in my bowl and I ate, The Doyenne ate, The oke ate, The Impassive Adult stared.

Now words spoken by Impassive Adult were seeming sweet to me as the Halwas were bitter and the bitter-rest!

I looked at the Doyenne, she smelled the Halwa and with a mysterious face said, “It’s rotten.”.

Impassive Adult rose from his chair as if he had won a war and yelled, “Nahi nahi, aur khalo!”

*Gratis Advice:

Never taste a Halwa by the D Neighbours. In any case, you’re going to, just keep an Impassive Adult with you to ‘check’.