A Walk in the Neighborhood

Most mornings, before I start my yoga practice, I take a long walk around my neighborhood. This morning I was particularly motivated to write a post about what I heard, smell, saw, and experienced because it is so unlike my neighborhood in the US.

As I walked out of my door this morning, one of the workers in the neighborhood was coming up the walkway to my house to collect the garbage. This gentleman comes every day of the week to collect the rubbish. And if we have failed to lay it outside on the porch he rings the doorbell and politely asks for the trash. I smile at him and say hello. He bends low and whispers, "Namaste mam." Such a lovely greeting.

I walk around the corner of my house and along the sidewalk that connects the houses in my complex. Each home here is a crisp white with pinkish colored roof tiles, balconies, and small gardens with pools. Each home looks the same but has owners/renters that do something different. I notice that my neighbors have planted a new group of pots along their fence. It smells lovely as I walk by. Another has recently hung up a row of brightly colored metal lanterns. Reds, purples, yellows, and greens shimmer back at me. 

I turn up the next row of houses and a security guard for my block stops to stand at attention as I walk by. I say hello to him too. He nods back at me. Eyes sharp as a hawk. Always watching. For what I do not know.

Down the block I notice a pretty Indian woman cleaning off the front steps and entry of the house for which she works. Her sari is bright red and green in the morning's early light. She is barefoot and scrubbing the floors with all her might. Her head is covered in a beautiful embroidered scarf.  She smiles shyly at me as I walk by before returning to her hard labors. 

To the front entry of my neighborhood I go. Security guards again, checking out a car and logging it in before allowing it entry into our block. They ignore me as I walk at a fast pace working up a good sweat. Busy and diligent in protecting the entrance.

I turn down the next lane, and immediately begin to faintly hear the sound of some mournful women singing in Hindi. I realize that it is coming from over the fence from outside the neighborhood. As I continue walking the woman's voice gets louder and I realize it is coming from a radio. It is turned up to a loud volume so others might enjoy her smooth voice. It is so different that the music we enjoy in the US that I stop to admire it for a while. Moved by words I do no understand but feel in my soul. 

Someone is making a delicious Indian breakfast on this block. I look around and notice a window open in one of the houses while women are inside cooking away. The smell of curry floats through the air and invades my nose. My mouth waters as I wonder what lovely foods they are preparing for breakfast. 

More security guards. Stoic and silent. I walk past. 

I am now heading back towards my street and notice that several drivers have gathered in the parking area at the end of the lane. They are chatting loudly while they lounge on the grass enjoying some beverage together out of a tall, silver canteen. Chai I should think. They smile at me as I walk by. My driver, who is sitting with them, stands and says, "Good morning mam."  

"It is a good morning Sushil. Happy day to you!" I respond while smiling. 

He smiles back and return to his seated position to finish the drink with his friends. 

As I walk back up my walkway my dog starts to bark at me as if welcoming me back home. I unlock the door and she jumps on me in her tail wagging, tongue licking, yipppeee your home greeting. Even she is in a good mood today. 

This is just a normal day in India. Outside the fence drama of course is happening. People are arguing or getting into fights but for this little moment all is peaceful in my neighborhood. Each day a new experience. A new smell. A new sight to see.