When owner’s pride is a neighbour’s delight

Having lived in police bungalows for 35 years, we happily shifted to a private house on retirement. It’s a renewed experience to be living with the civilian population after a long time. In service, we missed the neighbourly bonhomie, separated by walls and fences to boot.

Sarkari (government) houses just aren’t as vibrant and the bonhomie is missing. If it was to each his own back then, now it’s everyone to each. We enjoy each other’s possessions even without owning them, like good neighbours.

I’m reminded of Robert Frost’s poem, Mending Wall, which best describes neighbourly relations.

“He is all pine and I am apple orchard. My apple trees will never get across And eat the cones under his pines…” I’ve come to realise this despite Frost’s disclaimer, “Good fences make good neighbours.”

Two retired colonels live with their families on either side of our house. In one of the houses, there are two palm trees. While sitting on our raised terrace, we watch the sun set through the leafy palms as though we’re on a beach. If there’s a breeze, it adds to the evening’s charm. We can’t thank our neighbours enough for being there for us.

The house on the other side is built in a way that it gives us enough shade in summer and allows just the right amount of sunlight in winter. There is no double-storeyed house in front so we get a sylvan view of the Shivaliks with a silhouette of Kasauli’s Monkey Point. Once in while, we’ve been lucky to catch a glimpse of snow on the hills.

Both neighbours have beautiful lawns that add grace to our driveway. They give us the feel of an extended front yard. The line-up of flower pots alongside complements our own adornments, particularly in spring.

The house adjoining the one in front has six children belonging to three families. When they let off firecrackers on Diwali, we enjoy the spectacle without having to spend a paisa. The children hollering around and cycling on the street don’t let us feel that our own kids have flown the nest.

The municipality sodium streetlight shines bright on our house. It’s fixed in such a way that all meter readers of the electricity department don’t have to bother us with their visitations. The snapped kites on the electricity pole remind me of my childhood indulgences.

A precious possession of our neighbours is their jamun and mango trees, which have branches spreading out into our backyard. Our neighbours don’t mind our enjoying the fruits and think it’s a natural distribution. Likewise, we too don’t mind our bottle-gourd creeper making its way beyond our boundary wall and reaching out fruitfully to the neighbour’s side.

At times, when my wife and I sit on the swing in our front yard, we wonder how much we’ve missed in not having such a warm and friendly neighbourhood while in service.

The writer is a Panchkula-based retired IPS officer and an advocate

WHILE SITTING ON OUR RAISED TERRACE, WE WATCH THE SUN SET THROUGH THE NEIGHBOUR’S LEAFY PALMS AS THOUGH WE’RE ON A BEACH