In the relentless growth of India's metropolitan landscapes, a quiet but profound shift has occurred. The very essence of what it means to be a 'neighbour' has transformed, moving from a relationship of organic companionship to one of polite detachment. This evolution is poignantly captured in the reflections of Navami Krishnamurthy, a Bengaluru-based lawyer, who published her thoughts on December 31, 2025.
A Glimpse into a Connected Past
Krishnamurthy's narrative begins with stories from her grandfather, who lived in a large joint family in Bengaluru before its explosive urban expansion. Life then was characterised by a slower, more patient rhythm. Neighbours weren't just people living nearby; they were often extended family or settlers from other regions who became integral parts of daily life.
One cherished family anecdote involves her great-grandmother and an elderly Sindhi neighbour. Separated by a low brick wall, the two women would converse every morning. The remarkable aspect was their linguistic barrier: one knew only Kannada, the other only Hindi or English. Yet, their communication thrived on expressive hand gestures, shared laughter, and an intuitive understanding. This was not merely a funny story but a powerful testament to human connection and coexistence that transcended language.
The Modern Reality: Solitude Amidst Proximity
Contrast this with the contemporary urban experience. For many today, including Krishnamurthy, neighbourly relationships rarely progress beyond superficial greetings. The interaction is often limited to being an eligible witness for passport verification or exchanging polite nods at occasional weddings or festivals.
The comfort and accessibility once synonymous with neighbours have diminished. In the past, men found drinking companions, and women found gossip partners. Children, termed colloquially as "road friends," formed friendships naturally due to geographical closeness. They travelled to school together, played in the evenings, and were reprimanded by any watching adult from the community.
Today, that organic fabric has unravelled. Proximity and familiarity have been replaced by solitude and separation. Adults are consumed by busy lives, and children's playdates require meticulous scheduling. Conversations across walls have been supplanted by video calls and text messages, often prioritising connections validated by technology over those available next door.
Beyond Blaming Technology and Mobility
Krishnamurthy clarifies that she does not intend to solely blame technology for this societal shift. Practical realities play a significant role: people frequently move homes, shift cities, and even cross countries for work and life. The demands of everyday survival leave little room for cultivating local bonds.
However, the core message is one of reflection. The word "neighbour" has become, in her view, a quiet marker of urban loneliness. It highlights how people have gradually distanced themselves from those living in immediate physical closeness. While relationships with neighbours are rarely documented in digital trails or timestamps, their value lies in fleeting conversations, shared companionship, and gestures that live on in memory.
The essay concludes on a note of quiet hope. Despite geographical moves, time constraints, and constant change, the potential for connection remains. The conversation is still waiting across the brick wall, if only one is willing to look and make the effort to speak, rekindling a sense of community that modern urban India seems to have misplaced.
