I might have got the quietest and the most inspiring house in Bengaluru but of late, living here has been a nightmare. Quite literally. Come the night, the couple living below starts fighting. The man screams, the woman throws things. The woman screams, the man throws things. Both cry sometimes. I hear: I hate you’s, why’s and sorry’s peppered in their arguments like masala over aloo chat. I don’t know if fights are necessary for relationships to survive but I detest them. It disturbs me. My entire childhood flashes by, countless fights all at once. The fear during those fights was never for my own safety but of those fighting. The fear now is not for my own safety but of those fighting.
Like how people make homes, so do their sounds.
My home now partly belongs to the couple living below.
I wish for my home to be quiet and inspiring, once again.
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