Building relationships

My niece Vidisha is thirteen years old and busier than a corporate czar or a trauma surgeon, given today’s education system. Her daily engagements include school, art and keyboard lessons. But right on top of her list of favourite activities is playtime with friends who live inside the same gated community.

Children who live in multi-storeyed apartment blocks in large metros rarely have the luxury of a park or an open ground to play in. The “building” is the centre of all recreation. By four thirty, the landscaped greens, the winding driveways and the ground level labyrinth become a beehive of activity. Babies in strollers are wheeled around by maids.

Tiny tots take their first steps on the verdant lawns, shepherded by vigilant grandparents. Soon, the older children arrive, skipping excitedly and calling out to their friends. On my visits to Bangalore, I never tire of watching them play.

The children are hyperactive and noisy like they ought to be. When their rambunctious game sends a ball or a shuttlecock flying inside somebody’s balcony, they go up in a group and ask politely for it back. Birthday parties are great fun because they are held on the lawn and all the children in the building are invited.

Sometimes as they cycle round the block, they display on their cycle baskets the colourful posters made by them at school– reminding their careless elders to ‘Save Trees’, ‘Conserve Water’ or ‘Protect Wildlife’. A downpour is no dampener, they just take their game into the underbelly of the building.

For tired school-children, there is only enough time to cast off the sweaty uniform, freshen up, don something comfortable and gulp down that compulsory glass of milk before rushing down to play. Vidisha calls the glass of milk her “play-price”. As part of the play-price, she has to obey many rules. Serious disobedience may lead to detention. Vidisha rattled these off for my benefit: “No playing on the staircase landing. No sliding down the bannister. No talking to strangers.

No touching stray or pet dogs. Play in a big group always. Mind the little ones. Don’t use bad words. No punching, hitting or pinching. If hit, pinched or punched, go up to the intercom in the security box and ring up the attacker’s parent and your own. Don’t hit back.”

I was impressed. She continued, “Then Amma’s rules in the house are: Put your sneakers away in the shoe-rack and take a shower. Clothes go into the laundry basket…” A lot of rules for a young child but I am proud of her for she adheres to every single one.  “If I forget to do all this, Amma will give me a lecture about safety and hygiene and some ‘drum’ … deco-drum !”, she remembered, triumphantly.

The “building”, to Vidisha and her friends, is like the lane or the street used to be, back when we were growing up. The bonds nurtured on these makeshift playfields are just as strong.