Comfortingly Close

When I make chicken the neighborhood in India knows.  When I make mutton they know.  They know what I serve my guests to eat.  They know what is on my laundry line.  They know if my kids do not sleep through the night or if they are teething.  They know.  When I open the windows to my son's room someone says hi from across the gully.  There is no privacy.

I have been living with my in-laws in the middle of a forest for the last few days and I miss the neighbors!  I miss needing to close curtains.  I have nightmarish thoughts from throw back horror film ads that I saw when I was a teen (note that I said "ads" if I had ever seen one of those movies I think I would have never slept again).  I kind of miss our neighborhood watch.... Whenever Anyone Twitches Conversation Happens!  Not the type of Neighborhood Watch that is only for safety but for conversation, gossip.  I miss it particularly in the dark when I get home with the kids.  I miss Auntie from across the road striking up a conversation at unreal decibals while I try to keep Zana's sleeping ears covered.  I miss telling at least three people where and what exactly we were doing while we were out.  I miss people there to greet me home!  I miss India!