Mad munchkins

For over a month, my narrow little lane had been hijacked by the neighbourhood children as a battle ground for cricket, badminton, cycling, running, hiding, screaming and laughing. This made activities like driving, walking and standing extremely hazardous. You never know when a little munchkin will crash into you or worse when a cricket ball will do the same. The local watchmen, car owners, vegetable vendors, pedestrians and dogs, pray collectively everytime they hear the screaming that heralds a sixer. Gods are invoked, chanting is resorted to and there has been considerable adult bonding over the fear of broken merchandise.

The children however, choose to be oblivious to the fear that they have caused. The mini-munchkins have a disorganized running and screaming routine while the older children have organised their running and screaming into the framework of games. By evening, they bring out packs of cards, shuffle them up and take over the staircases and entrances of buildings. Mellowed down after a day in the sun, they stare at their cards intently and try desperately to win at Uno and ekka-pa-char.

About two weeks ago, the aforementioned newly religious parents formed a union and loudly vocalised their fears for their cars and lives, to the munchkins. The solution to stop these potentially dangerous games was a total ban on playing on the road. The adults who believed that this would result in some peace were rudely shocked. The children just redefined the rules and space required. For example, the cricketers play happily within our society by declaring anything more than a foot from the bowler/batsman a boundary and anything two feet away a “SIXXXXERRR”. So the noise, animated individuals with their hazardous flying objects continue to dash around unabated.

Unabated, that is, until last week when schools restarted and cursed my lane to a lonely existence with stationary vehicles and adults.