Features: Magazine | Literary Review | Life | Metro Plus | Open Page | Education Plus | Book Review | Business | SciTech | NXg | Friday Review | Cinema Plus | Young World | Property Plus | Quest | Folio |

A dose of shepherd philosophy from As You Like It is that “the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn.” The Bard would add, “Good pasture makes fat sheep, and… a great cause of the night is lack of the sun.”

But this story is about a different rain that wets property, as much as it burns. Not the acid variety of rain that contains pollutants such as sulphur dioxide or nitrogen oxide, but the ‘apartment’ variety from balconies, with enough firepower to spark off heat among residents, as I came to learn from my good friend Das.

“What’s that brown spot on your white shirt, paan?” I asked him at the canteen, a few days ago.

“Not paan, yaar, but shaitaan,” he grumbled. “Lives right on top of my head!” he added, and I looked up and wondered if he was referring to the boss.

“Not here,” Das hastened to clarify. “In my apartment block. I felt a drop falling on me as I was leaving for the office this morning,” he explained.

“Perhaps a drizzle,” I suggested. Das shook his head, “No, don’t you see that it is sunny after many days. And this mess is from what my not-so-friendly neighbour dries in the balcony!”

I jested, “There’s some wonder in that handkerchief!” Das fumed, “Don’t waste on me a Desdemona line from Othello, though mine is a tragedy too, with droplets falling from a dirty mop, not a lover’s hanky!” It was appropriate that I sympathised, so I said, “Alas, your expensive new shirt! Try a non-acidic stain remover.” After inspecting the damage, I said, “If the mop had wiped off some potent floor cleaner, expect to see a hole soon where the stain now shows.” The last thing that Das wanted was my grim forecast, so he left in a huff.

Ever since, I have been looking around if Das’s plight is an exception rather than a rule. I have always believed that “the quality of mercy is not strain’d, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath,” as Portia says in The Merchant of Venice, but the quality of what droppeth in many properties is of staining nature, I have discovered.

A major finding is that by and large, most of us have evolved sufficiently that we don’t throw objects out the window, as babies are more prone to. So, there are fewer instances of crumpled papers and empty cigarette packets, vegetable peels and used napkins getting tossed out indiscriminately.

With liquids, there seems to be less of discretion practised, I gather from my mini survey. It is not unusual to find otherwise educated residents throw water on their floors and drain the waste through the balcony outlet, little considering the inconvenience they cause in the bargain.

Apparently, they don’t realise that the small pipe protruding from balconies is more a rainwater drain than a celestial right for residents to callously flaunt, even as the affected may like to ‘rain hot vengeance on offenders’ heads,’ as in King Richard II.

In the absence of neighbourly sensitivity, I’m afraid you may need to take countermeasures for limiting injury. For instance, remember that vadaams drying in the parking lot may be safe from crows and mynahs, and yet be vulnerable to contamination from effluents. Don’t be shocked to find your vehicle developing strange patterns on the painted surface owing to the liquid treatment it gets regularly subjected to. A keen eye can make out a matching pattern on the apartment walls too!

D. MURALI

Printer friendly page  
Send this article to Friends by E-Mail