<p>The class is in full swing when I hear the sound of a thousand crackers bursting on the street. I’m waiting outside my daughter’s dance class when the rat-a-tat clashes with the sound of tapping feet.<br /><br /> The children freeze for a few seconds before getting back in position. Even as they abandon themselves to the rhythm there’s a repeat of the same deafening noise. Diwali had gotten over more than 10 days ago. So what was being celebrated on the street?<br /><br />“Does the sound of crackers scare you?” The other mom waiting with me senses my disquiet. It wasn’t just the noise that was bothering me. As I had walked towards the class earlier in the evening, I was surprised to see a huge shamiana (tent) in the middle of the street. <br /><br />A family that was obviously celebrating something in their house had virtually cordoned off the entire street. There was hardly any pavement left for pedestrians. As I struggled with my bags walking gingerly past open drains at the side I was fuming with indignation.<br /><br />This was not the first time I had faced a similar situation in other roads. Sometimes loud music blaring from speakers made matters worse. It was a blight on the hapless residents living in the street. Once when a neighbour had broached the subject of disturbance to a partying family, the ‘solpa adjust maadi’ line was dished out. Then it quickly degenerated into a scene from a bad movie.<br /><br />As residents we have been adjusting for a long time — not ‘solpa’, but ‘thumba’. The line between the two is often thin and shaky and taxing on a person’s patience. Whether having loud parties on a weekday or jumping the queue in a supermarket the concept of courtesy in a public area is alien to us. The errant parties are at the very least defensive and more often belligerent. The word ‘sorry’ is practically non-existent in their vocabulary.<br /><br /> To apologise takes courage and we are none the worse by admitting our fault in any situation.</p>
<p>The class is in full swing when I hear the sound of a thousand crackers bursting on the street. I’m waiting outside my daughter’s dance class when the rat-a-tat clashes with the sound of tapping feet.<br /><br /> The children freeze for a few seconds before getting back in position. Even as they abandon themselves to the rhythm there’s a repeat of the same deafening noise. Diwali had gotten over more than 10 days ago. So what was being celebrated on the street?<br /><br />“Does the sound of crackers scare you?” The other mom waiting with me senses my disquiet. It wasn’t just the noise that was bothering me. As I had walked towards the class earlier in the evening, I was surprised to see a huge shamiana (tent) in the middle of the street. <br /><br />A family that was obviously celebrating something in their house had virtually cordoned off the entire street. There was hardly any pavement left for pedestrians. As I struggled with my bags walking gingerly past open drains at the side I was fuming with indignation.<br /><br />This was not the first time I had faced a similar situation in other roads. Sometimes loud music blaring from speakers made matters worse. It was a blight on the hapless residents living in the street. Once when a neighbour had broached the subject of disturbance to a partying family, the ‘solpa adjust maadi’ line was dished out. Then it quickly degenerated into a scene from a bad movie.<br /><br />As residents we have been adjusting for a long time — not ‘solpa’, but ‘thumba’. The line between the two is often thin and shaky and taxing on a person’s patience. Whether having loud parties on a weekday or jumping the queue in a supermarket the concept of courtesy in a public area is alien to us. The errant parties are at the very least defensive and more often belligerent. The word ‘sorry’ is practically non-existent in their vocabulary.<br /><br /> To apologise takes courage and we are none the worse by admitting our fault in any situation.</p>
