Going the new way… Asha Iyer Kumar (Life)
7 September 2011, 6:47 PM
It is a little over two months since we moved to Dubai from the quaint village of Masafi, and I have yet to get over the queasiness of a relocation that hurtled me from a laid back existence amidst mountain clusters to a heaving metro. People who learned about our transfer said it was a great move, for I would have more things to do now, more acquaintances to make, more places to go. They made it sound as if my life would go into over drive and I had better gear up for the hip and happening city. What they did not say (deliberately, I suspect) was that it also opened up more avenues for me to spill the dirhams, so much so that I wonder if the salary has suddenly shrunk or the month has extended beyond 60 days. Life in a city is distinct, not owing just to its many choices, but also because of its seemingly gross attitude that realigns human nature. I must admit that I am not much of a social network being. With no twitter account on my name and with an almost defunct Facebook venture, I am not the greatest of techno creatures. I still believe in the primordial methods of touching base, which by its natural logic should see me making personal acquaintances faster and thicker than a tweeting teenager. But a metro, apparently, has its own rules. In the two months that I have been here, the nearest that I have come to making a social contact is with the Indian beautician in the salon down the street. It is not that I have not made attempts at forging new acquaintances. The few times I have shared the elevator in our building with a lady, I have smiled with the hope that this would be the start of a new association in the city. I don’t know if it looked too eager and loud, but every time my smile hit the elevator door and fell flat, only to be trampled by an exiting co-traveller. Once I held the elevator door open and waited for an approaching fellow resident and ushered her in with a welcoming nod. But I soon realised that my gesture was no key to her heart. Nor was the friendly pat on her five-year-old’s cheek a good trick. Worse, it made the youngster cringe, with the mother throwing a protective arm around him and pulling him closer. Her eyes strived not to meet mine. Did I look the kidnapping kind, I asked my husband later that evening. “You have to go that extra yard and make friends in your building”, an old relative living in another part of the city advised. Taking her counsel to heart, and taking advantage of a neighbour’s door ajar, I rang the bell a few days ago. The lady of the house, a compatriot, walked up, gathered the door in a hurry leaving enough opening for her to present her head and half a torso. I smiled, and said I was her new neighbour. “Okay.” “We moved in two months ago.” “Okay.” “Just thought of saying ‘hello’ so that we will know when we meet in the elevator next.” “Okay.” “I am Asha.” “Okay.” “And your name?” She muttered something. I was pleasantly surprised when she asked, “You are from…?” “Kerala.” “Okay.” End of conversation. I sauntered back to my flat wondering if she had just read the day’s newspaper that carried a report about women posing as beggars and robbing people and homes. You never can tell a mugger from a decent homemaker these days!P.S: Following recent incidents of crime, people have been advised not to take the elevator with strangers. Now that puts paid to my attempts to make new friends in the building. It makes me wonder, from being wary—a trait we picked up post 9/11 – are we on the brink of becoming a paranoid lot, happy to stay indoors and watch the world through the TV, Facebook and twitter windows?
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