Head-writing

You think you’re clever.

“I pass your flat every day by this new bridge, Saar. Can I have a hot cup of coffee, please?”

You convert the old family home into a ‘multi-storey’; rent out a few floors, and perch yourself on top.

Breeze, silence, unpolluted air...

And then, one day –

A flyover arrives... at your door.

Being a responsible citizen, you believe in development, and in making sacrifices for your city.

But you now have the many-headed going past your windows all day long, and can no longer dry out old underwear this side of your home.

(For which the already-hassled regulars on Bus No 84 C/S are thankful.)

Total strangers now know you’re an indifferent homemaker...that dying potted palm; that rusted tricycle (your kid’s in university).

And this morning, thanks to a large vehicle unexpectedly using an XXL size horn, you dropped a steaming cup of coffee off your little balcony, narrowly missing a blameless auto, some random cars and the ubiquitous two-wheelers... all of which registered sympathy while speeding by, since they now know you.

Upside: your social circle is widening, and traffic has eased.

Plus, there are some exciting extreme-action-shows-on-TV moments. Will that vehicle be silly enough to overtake on a flyover...or not?

Uh-oh, time to close the windows and draw curtains - rush hour approaches. What to do?

Somewhere, the old homestead is laughing...