About: a light-hearted morning musing, on a normal day.

It’s become a morning ritual. Soon after waking-up, brushing, downing two glasses of water, and sipping a strong cup of filter-coffee, I walk over to unlock my Flat Door security grill-gate, then the main Front Gate. And then switch-off the night-safety lights, allowing the sunlight to sizzle. Often, a lovely morning breeze welcomes me into the open.

My almost decade old Honda City car-I call it Ertugrul-spends the night resting inside the narrow porch, with just enough space, on one side, for me to crab-walk to unlock the Front Gate. Ertugrul is bound on the sides by a boundary steel fence and a ‘boundary-less open fence’, the Front Gate, and a flight of stairs. And has a galvanised steel roof to provide some protection from nature’s Greta Thunberg un-inspired climate change forces, standing on a firm tiled floor.

On wide-opening the Front Gate, I start-up Ertugrul and use the superb wide steering angle designed by Mr. Honda to manoeuvre to a mid-way position so that I can access the car all around. This is to give it a daily morning wash, brush Ertugrul’s teeth, as if it were.

I live in a three-storey building in a small Town near Salem, Tamil Nadu, overlooking the Railway Station- which, though fully-electrified recently, has not started wearing a Mumbai-like Station foot-fall. My Front Gate is on a reasonably wide road, cut-off from the Railway premises by a concrete boundary wall, separating the residential area that I live in. Initially, there wasn’t a wall, but a Hospital situated at one end began ‘operating’ on the Railway land injecting its medical waste on the broken fault line. The Railways suddenly woke up, became awfully possessive and built a two-metre high wall, first at the Hospital end, and then taking it all along its precious land. Two mighty Gates was installed to prevent the tax-paying citizen from claiming any movement rights. In the process, I lost a great expanse of land in front of my Gate.

In recent times, the Hospital started eyeing the space over the wall, and the Railways being ‘physically challenged’ put-up a one-metre high sheet-fence on top of the wall to completely cut-off the Hospital vision and line of sight.

The boundary wall then grew wild bushes on either side and became a tourist spot for the great Indian citizen to fertilise the lush vegetation and kill plant parasites with acid water spray.

The Railways were still mindful. Enough is enough: they built a beautiful pavement on their side of their road, beyond the boundary wall and also a Public Toilet, sponsored by a Government of India Navratna Company, at the Station entrance. That was two years ago, and the handsome toilet is yet to be commissioned for want of ‘this and that’ – could be that the Railway Minister is unable to find time to inaugurate the facility?Meanwhile, the Toilet’s walls took the full force of the Homo Sapiens water spray, has slightly buckled under pressure, and the grey outside has transformed to a light yellow colour.

The Railways did a fantastic job of asphalt-carpeting the entire area, hoping that the soil of the Earth would be safe from human chemical warfare. But the other day I caught a Lawyer, who I had picked up a conversation with and be-friended, and religiously does his morning walk on this stretch, do a doggie at one corner. I whacked him on his brain and after a helpless stare he moved on to greener pastures.

Coming back to my three-storey building, my wife and I run a Boutique on the ground-floor, board on the first, and furiously cut, sew, and steam-iron on the third – the production unit of our business.

Now, continuing with the morning ritual, after washing Ertugrul, I drive it outside the Front Gate and neatly park it under a mostly-green Tree, which also spreads its branches on to the Railway Station Space (no fence for that).

While washing, the neighbour on my right-side who runs a Jewellery Business in Town comes over to inspect his dilapidated, termite infested old concrete and tiled house, overgrown grass covered plot, and pick flowers for his morning pooja. We engage in sweet nothing conversations while he plucks flowers and I wash the car. The road outside the Gate is in a poor state had lost its top marble gravel, and every time a vehicle passes, it generates a ton of dust (which I clean-up the next day on Ertugrul).

On this road, the morning traffic is a sight to behold. It’s mandatory that you should not wear a helmet on a two-wheeler; must have a phone in one hand with head tilted in an acute angle; and hold at least three persons- at times growing up to five -riding on one scooter or bike. School girls drive their Government freely-gifted bi-cycles to the next-door Municipality School or to the nearby Girls High School. Exactly at 8.30am I see a uniformed young girl with double pleated braided hair riding her cycle to school with a boy on a bike tracking and riding in parallel with her, better than a GPS. Once they stopped in front of my Gate and the boy took a selfie with the girl leaning on his motorcycle. This twining ride happens almost every day. Is it a brother, or is it budding young love- a Romeo and Juliet in the making, I wonder?

The other day, it was well past 10 pm when a gang of mad-max bike riders crushed into one another at my Front Rate with a loud screeching thud – when one of them skidded while suddenly braking on the loose gravel. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and the fall broke his nose with a stream of blood finding its way to his mouth. He struggled to find his feet, found he had lost one tooth, and declared, “ I’m dead”. I showed the bike gang the nearby Hospital to find life and live.

Another day, after the lovers had twined past, I parked Ertugrul on the other side under the usual tree, and when I returned for work found the rear glass had been shattered to smithereens. I suddenly became Sherlock Holmes, grew new antennae, and tried his kind of detective work. I carefully studied the broken glass, any objects inside the car, tracks outside, marks on the body of the car. And concluded that a vehicle with a protruding object must have hit the glass while backing down during a reverse turn. The next-but one neighbour is building a new House and I often see machinery and extended ladder-laden jeeps or vans delivering mechanical, electrical and plumbing services. I confronted the Builder, and he turns red in the face and stalks off. And sends his brother to ask if I suspect them?

They say, the best is saved for the last. Well, a man just did that after saving all his water and releasing it in full glory. A car pulls up in front of my Gate, almost crashing head-on in to a silently napping Ertugrul. The driver jumps out and using the cover of his car and mine, neatly pees on the lush bushes occupying this side of the Railways built wall – undercover peeing, I call it. He gets back into his car, while Ertugrul gives a deadly stare, and vanishes into the dusty road. I silently watch through the glass door from inside the Office.

At the end of the day, I tuck back Ertugrul on the porch, pat him on the bonnet, lock the gate and look up to tomorrow, again.

PS: I wrote this article about a year ago and submitted it for a Writing Competition – did not win prizes, but was appreciated. The broken, dust generating road on my front gate has since been repaired. And the dust has moved to other places. The Toilet at the Station Entrance is still not opened for public use and has probably fallen into ‘criminal’ disrepair. And the Indian citizen continues to spray the walls with his graffiti – on a yellow background.