Neighbours

One rainy Saturday a few weeks ago, I decided to document my neighbours. I must admit, I've never spoken to any of them. My family used to trade New Year cookies for Raya ones with the neighbour on the right, but that tradition dissipated into a mere childhood memory when the 'datuk' from next door passed away.

The neighbours on the right

An old Chinese lady used to live on our left, but a few years ago, she opted out, and sold the place to the management of a printing factory nearby. The management then proceeded to conveniently dump what must have been a hundred and two male Nepalese workers in that house. The feisty, loud-mouthed neighbour two doors down kicked up a big fuss, and recently, the number went down to ninety-nine. I don't have a major problem with them... except for well, perhaps one. There's this young Nepalese chap who thinks it's very amusing trying to peep at me whenever I get down from the car, close the gate, etc. Once I was trying to wash the car, and a bunch of them—him included—just returned from the factory. He grinned, sat down at the porch and proceeded to gaze in my direction as if I were some kind of Saturday matinee Tamil movie. I felt like throwing my dirt-soaked sponge at him, but for the kinky connotations such an action could imply.

The neighbours on the left

My room faces the back, and the dudes at the back are total slobs. I don't waste my time observing their daily routines, but take a look—doesn't it just look like a junkyard? The water drainage pipe is hanging from the roof, and each time there's a thunderstorm, some part of the house creaks and falls away.

Room with a view: the neighbours at the back

And as a bonus, check out this back neighbour's neighbour (pictured below). Is it too much to ask that the people in my neighbourhood be more civilised?

The back neighbour's neighbour