I Must Go

When I think about neighbors in India, two images immediately come to mind.

One is from Mumbai.

The other is from Bangalore.

In both memories, I'm standing in a doorway.

And so is my neighbor.

What began as a quick greeting somehow became a conversation.

An hour later, we were still standing there.

No chairs.

No coffee.

No planning.

Just two people talking.

Every few minutes, one of us would say, "I must go."

The other would nod.

And then the conversation would continue exactly where it left off.

Family news would be exchanged.

Someone's health would be discussed.

Advice would be offered.

A story would trigger another story.

And before you knew it, another ten minutes had passed.

Then someone would try again.

"I really should get going."

Nobody moved.

Looking back, I can see those scenes so clearly.

The doorway in Mumbai.

The doorway in Bangalore.

The afternoon light.

The familiar faces.

The unhurried nature of it all.

Today, living in the United States, neighborly conversations tend to be shorter.

A chat while collecting the mail.

A wave while walking the dog.

A few minutes in the driveway.

Then everyone carries on with their day.

Neither approach is right or wrong.

They're simply different.

But every now and then, I find myself smiling at the memory of those doorway conversations in India.

The ones that were supposedly ending from the very beginning.

The ones where "I must go" rarely meant what it said.

Did I ever mention that I love India?