Life in a Minimalist Apartment
Chitvan Singh Dhillon, a 2017-batch officer of the Indian Economic Service, lives in a two-room apartment in Lutyens' Delhi. His balcony overlooks a lush-green canopy, and he embraces a minimalist lifestyle with sparse furnishings. Yet, he often feels constricted—not physically, but emotionally.
He contrasts his current home with his parental home, which featured long verandahs and lawns mowed every two weeks. There, dry leaves collected in winter, and bamboo chairs invited sunshine, cardamom-scented chai, and neighbourhood gossip.
The Silence of Urban Living
In his apartment, the silence is deafening but not repressive. He hears neighbours through walls—chairs dragged, utensils washed, or a sitar playing faintly. However, he could not name their faces if he met them in the corridor. They exist feet apart, confined behind triple-locked doors and non-overlapping routines.
He wonders if this is the megapolis or life's natural metamorphosis. Childhood memories of neighbours remembering birthdays and waving from gates now feel irretrievable, like a forgotten language.
Expectations vs. Reality
When he first moved in, he imagined a prestigious job, a new city, and the pride of his own keys. He soon realized that living beside someone does not mean knowing them. People walk past each other hurriedly in the corridor, often without acknowledgment or a half-smile.
Yet, some days bring comfort: the pungent smell of hilsa frying or an infant's symphony from a neighbouring flat. These signs of human existence are invisible but steady, reassuring him that others are there, breathing in their own private silence. They are detached, but not alone.
Missing the Space Between People
He does not miss the bungalow itself, but the space between people that used to feel closer. Back then, a gate was opened without hesitation. Now, apartment doors stay shut unless there is a reason to knock.
Small moments accidentally connect them: a parcel mistakenly dropped at his doorstep, or a neighbour's fuchsia-pink bougainvillea creeping into his balcony, brightening it. They may not speak, but they sense each other as silent witnesses to parallel lives.
A Different Kind of Life
This apartment does not hold the same memories as his childhood home. Perhaps it does not need to. It is a different time and space, a different kind of life. While he may not know who his neighbours are, he knows they are there just beyond the shared wall, living as quietly as he is. Sometimes, that is enough.
