My Neighbourhood by Sharmila Sinha

When I was little, that’s many a moons ago, we would go out in the public park and play to our heart’s content. There were no restrictions. No one was prowling us. At least I did not experience. The park, in summers, would be full of people till 11:00 pm. These were pre AC and cooler days. These were days when the khas curtains would be watered to keep homes cool. Chick curtains would be rolled down till it touched the red polished floor. Angaan had trees and shrubs and bougainvillea snaked up from one end to run through the overhead grill, to fan us with its flowers, while we would be sitting on the floor of the aangan, eating mangoes, in summer. The doors were never locked and anyone and everyone who entered home during meal time, had to sit for the meal. Those were wall–less days. 

I was not born and brought up in the neighbourhood that I live now. But ours too was a probashi neighbourhood of city called Nawabon ka Sheher. I grew up in a multi-religious, multi-cultural, thus a multi-hued neighbourhood. My mother could barely speak Hindi calling a samosa, samucha very loudly and clearly, not realising that the two were very different words – former an eat while later meaning whole. 

But somehow things seem to have changed. ACs have invaded our lives. So have cars. And most importantly walls have entered to divide us all. Peeping out to see the half picture is the norm. So the walls have divided us. 

In Sadhana, Tagore writes, all the modern civilisations have their cradles of brick and mortar. We divide nation and nation, knowledge and knowledge, man and nature. It breeds in us a strong suspicion of whatever is beyond the barriers we have built, and everything has to fight hard for its entrance into our recognition.

Neighbourhood Diaries is breaking these walls. The walls between a buyer and a seller, between an elderly who needs to tell her story and the youth who listens to it and documents. This is what attracted me to the whole project. So, when Shahana came calling to discuss about her plans for the Women’s Day, I was mighty excited. 

Conversation started with relationship with Chittaranjan Park, a place where I never wanted to come, from another Bangali para, near Delhi University. But once I did, I fell in love. My son Arjun’s singing with Ashish’s group – he has no music in his voice like his parents, yet he was part of the Kuch Raang Bhare Phool, Khuch khatte Meethe Paal …. 

What a lovely time spent. Evening whiled away with music for the boy. For me it is Rabigeetika where I go to enjoy the bonhomie of friends and hear others sing. Then of course friends made, book discussions, natok, talking to the vendors and so much more. What intrigues me of this para, now, is everyone understands Bangla. 

When I came in 1998 to C R Park there were few cars. The three of us could walk down to Nehru Place. Till a few years ago we walked till Savitri Cinema and returned after a late night show. 

But something has changed. The gates are locked. Walls have been created, maybe for our safety. But are we really safe behind bars I wonder. Children no longer play till late in the evening, forget 11:00 pm, as we did. Parents are constantly on vigil. I sometimes wonder why. The divide between those who have and those who do not? Or is it the way that we have started to ‘other’ some? Or is it just general apathy towards things near us. 

I go back to the Bard – When a man does not realise his kinship with the world, he lives in a prison-house, whose walls are alien to him. 

Breaking these walls hasn’t been easy for Shahana and her team. And that is commendable. Also, each neighbourhood should have one such place where children and adult sit together, to understand the community that they live in, better. Youth could be mentored to communicate with the community to understand the history of the place that they live in and feel proud and happy. 

Kudos to the gang who have thought of this brilliant project that not only communicates with the community but also helps keep its culture and history alive. Hurray also to Shapno Ekhon the conjoined twin of Neighbourhood Diaries.