Neighbours
A ringside view of the Metro work from a doctor’s waiting room. The hum and vibration is terrific up here on the third floor. The work is mostly underground now but there is a huge pit right under this building into which the tunnel emerges. At eye level, most of it is cordoned off from our eyes so this is a pretty unusual view. After just a few minutes, the white noise makes it impossible to concentrate and my eyes wander across the road. The buildings there are old and mostly dilapidated. They seem abandoned. This of course is the outer facade of many buildings in this part of town. We enjoy the outward appearance of a war torn city, complete with empty air conditioner boxes and cracked windows and even gaping holes where a wall ought to be. Inside may be hidden a hive of activity and industry but why tempt the evil eye by sprucing up the outside?
Across the road, three such gems stand so close together there is only a handspan between each. The last of the three is the narrowest. Only one large balcony looks out from each floor. The entire front of the building is swathed in netting and bamboo supports. The doors and windows of the lower floors are tightly shut. It must be notified for evacuation. Have the residents lost the Battle of the Metro? Are they imprisoned within or have they fled to some other equally desolate accommodation elsewhere?
The top floor though is free of the netting. The outward facing grill of the balcony is beautiful old wrought iron, in a particularly pleasing curved style. The grill descends from waist height in a series of verticals and curlicues. Then just where a standing person’s knee would hit it, it curves outward, so that the knee might bend and the foot rest on the base of the swell. Thoughtful elegance.
The sloping roof has been readied for the monsoon with a blue tarpaulin cover, neatly lashed down with bright green nylon rope. It’s a splash of colour against the blackened walls of the building and the grey skies overhead.
A plant lover probably lives there. Most of the balcony floor is covered with pots and a couple of creepers are making their way up to the roof. Their flowers are pink, I see, even through the dust that coats them thickly. In the middle of the noise, dust and dilapidation, it’s good to see life clinging on to that top floor.