Pranav got out of his apartment with a bag in his hand and looked at the view on the opposite open side. The building squared around a small garden which bordered along the edges of the building. It was an old design from a time when elevators and parking space weren’t a necessary requirement for many.
The staircase was among the best Pranav had ever seen; it was made specifically to make the climb easier. The old people of the building didn’t face a lot of problems going up or down. The staircase was wide too, two healthy individuals could easily pass each other without having to adjust in any manner.
The building was always brightly coloured, it currently stood coloured in a lighter shade of blue with a yellow border on the edges. It would make one feel as if there was a beach around, only expect there wasn’t.
Pranav’s previous apartment was in an area where in the evening squabble among drunk people was one the characteristics which people had surprisingly come to accept, but Pranav wasn’t the one to do so. So, he went out looking for another place to stay, he scrolled through pages of property-based websites on the internet, borrowed a newspaper from a neighbour for the same purpose and he also walked around to see ‘for rent’ or ‘available for lease’ written on different buildings.
After all that effort he came across a shop selling fresh fruit juice and the owner, a kind and smiling lady told him of the ‘Marigold Apartments’.
“For some reason I expected to see a lot of marigolds there, I mean it has a garden, why not marigolds, it is the right time of the year for them,” Pranav told Mrs Shah, the lady who owned the juice shop which Pranav now frequently visited
“Do you like it here?” asked Mrs Shah
“Its better than where I used to live,” said Pranav, “my neighbour Vibhor here is a unique kind though, every time he steps out of his apartment it is like he is exiting a gym. Hovering in a mountain-like physical presence, always carrying a serious expression and never smiling, initially I was quite intimidated by him. On a Sunday morning when I decided to sleep late, I couldn’t, because of the sound of war drums he was playing loudly in his apartment. I have never heard anyone listening to such kind of music.”
“I think I know the one,” replied Mrs Shah, “comes here often after his morning run, serious indeed but definitely different in contrast from within. But I have heard some things about the security guard there.”
“Highly superstitious person. Wouldn’t have been a problem if he kept it to himself but he tries to interfere with others. One day he was very insistent that I don’t leave for work, as he had seen some ‘bad omens’ around me. What was most surprising was that he really believed it, when I glanced back while leaving, I think I saw genuine concern on his face along with sadness,” said Pranav
“So did it happen?” asked the lady
“What?… Oh, what he told? I really don’t know; I had forgotten about it soon enough. I don’t think there is a perfect day in life, some of it will be bad even if it is for ten minutes,” said Pranav
Mrs Agarkar, one of the old ladies who lived in an apartment in the same row as Pranav came by the juice shop.
“One day as I was going down the stairs I saw marigolds in the garden. I could not believe it, I had been telling the gardener to plant some since two years but he hadn’t, I wondered what inspired him to suddenly do so and then I got to know from another of my immediate neighbour that the man who had shifted on the floor two and a half months before had planted the marigolds,” said Mrs Agarkar
“Do you like marigolds?” asked Mrs Shah
“Of course I do, they remind me of my grandparents’ house where they had many marigolds during this time of the year,” smiled Mrs Agarkar
A few days later Vibhor stood at the shop drinking orange juice in the morning.
“You look more serious than you usually do..” said Mrs Shah
Vibhor’s expression lightened to display a light smile, “My immediate neighbour, this man has shifted here about three months back. Whenever he sees me, I can see some distress in his eyes, like he is afraid of me.”
“Why don’t you talk to him and clear things out,” said Mrs Shah
“I am thinking of inviting him over,” said Vibhor
A week later when Pranav came to the shop again Mrs Shah enquired how things were now.
“Things are better, Mrs Agarkar an old lady who lives in an apartment on the same floor baked me dry vanilla cake, she said it was for my efforts to plant the marigold and Vibhor the serious guy I told you about, next door neighbour, he invited me over for lunch; you were right, he is a nice guy,” said Pranav to which Mrs Shah smiled.
Written by Anuran Chatterji
Neighbours
Early Morning Memories 