Big changes in the building! Robert, the tenant in the flat above mine, has moved out. It’s got nothing to do with the plumbing: he was in the military and has been transferred to another post. For a few days, I hear the sound of prospective buyers tramping up and down, first on the stairs and then right over my head.

After a pause, suddenly there are renewed sounds of tramping on the stairs. Now they are accompanied by the loud thumps and scrapes of furniture being moved up the stairs and around in the flat. Clearly, a new tenant has started moving in. Even though this is a small building, with only six units, we tenants maintain a polite reserve amongst ourselves. Aside from my occasional coffee-mornings with my sparrow-like neighbour Pete, we don’t gossip about events in the building.

Now, however, a whole new dimension opens up. The new person clearly prefers to leave her floors bare because I can hear her footsteps wherever she goes. Even before I see her, I know that she’s a woman and I’m guessing she’s fairly young. Why? Because I can tell from the sound of her heels click-clacking above me that the shoes are punishingly high. An older woman would surely kick them off the moment she got a chance!

Barely has she moved in but a horde of young relatives come a-visiting. They’re thudding up and down the stairs like frisky dinosaurs all day long. They’re also talking in loud shrieks, running races, falling off furniture and wailing. The whole first week passes like this. It causes so much distress to the rest of us in the building, that now, whenever we meet in the hall or out in the driveway, we stop and share complaints.

The worst-affected are Pete next door, and Rebecca, in the flat directly above his. She’s the same age as me, works as a school librarian and always looks neat and well turned-out. “I can’t sleep a wink,” she tells me, clutching her forehead. “There’s so much banging and thumping? They have no idea how loud it sounds!” She’s met the girl, however. Her name’s Sarah and the visitors are her sister and children. The tall, gruff man who has been helping to move the furniture is Sarah’s co-tenant, says Rebecca, “and her brother”.

My eyebrows shoot up, though I say nothing. One reason to be surprised is that Sarah is brown-skinned and the “brother” is muddy white. But there’s a second reason! Known only to me. Around 2 am, every night, I can hear energetic activities taking place in the bedroom directly above mine. It starts with a rhythmic thumping, accompanied by feminine squeals and hoots that go on for at least 10 minutes before ending with a low, porcine grunt. Of course, I can’t swear that it’s the two co-tenants.

What they do is their business. But the sedate and dignified tone of the building has changed. This story’s not over yet, I mutter to myself, as I struggle to fall asleep once more.

Manjula Padmanabhan , author and artist, tells us tales of her parallel life in Elsewhere,USA, in this fortnightly series.

>marginalien.blogspot.in

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