Yeh teraa ghar ya meraa ghar?

It was while they were both haggling with the vegetable vendor over the price of potatoes and pooshinikai that mom smiled at the woman across the street in a gesture of hello-I’m-new-here friendliness.

“Just moved in aa?” the lady asked, handing a bunch of carrots to the man and watching his weighing scales with a sharp eye.

“When you came?” she continued, asking him to throw in a few more carrots. “Carrot halwa for my son’s burthday, you see?” she offered by way of explanation at the large transaction.

Mom politely asked about the boy’s age, his school, eating habits, siblings, extracurricular activities, coaching classes, etc., as the women stood watching the vendor pedal away, calling out to the housewives and retirees in the locality.

Mom turned to bid the woman goodbye and extend the obligatory, “Come home sometime, OK?” that all women around her seemed to spout on auto-pilot.

“By the way, how much rent you are paying for this house?” asked the woman.

The genial smile froze on mom’s face. Shocked by this blatant intrusion into her privacy, her brain cells froze momentarily and the exact amount came tumbling out of her mouth.

“Aiyyo, toooooo much you are paying!” the woman responded shrilly, before walking away.

As mom entered the house with a flushed face, she was undecided on whether the question irked her more or the woman’s reaction to the response.

You’d think by now my human would be used to the blatant rudeness around her in the form of men who spit at her feet, drivers who ignore road etiquette, shopkeepers who pick their noses while attending to customers and grown men who use the roads as their latrine. Instead, the rent question still manages to take her aback.

It’s one thing when athimbers and sister-in-law’s brother-in-law’s parents inquire about the amount and deposit, but quite another when a passing raddiwala stops his bicycle and asks, “How much is the vaadagai, akka?” before asking for recyclables.

Really, if the humans wanted to inform the entire world of their affairs, they’d engrave the information on black granite and affix it to the front of the house - just like Mr. Manickaselvam, who lives at the end of the street, has.

Passers-by are urged to note that S. Manickaselvam, owner of two-storeyed “Lakshmi Nivas” has done his B.E. (Hons.) from Pilani, MSc. from Australia and M.Phil from U.S.A.

Wow, I’m so impressed. Aren’t you?