Yesterday, I went to the post-office.
While not an earth-shattering event in itself, something did happen there which shook me to my core.
The postman who had my parcel and who does the rounds of the particular wilds of Parel where I stay, casually came up and said “Madam ap toh sirf Saturday hi milte ho na?”
This, a man I had never seen, much less interacted with, knew my routine with a scary familiarity. While on my way to work, I did a quick count in my head of how many people would likely be privy to information like this.
The two guys who work at the bakery downstairs – “Madam aapka parcel aaya tha, ap nahi the”
The doodh-wale bhaiya I call for milk every morning – “Madam, aapke saath waali madam ghar par nahi hain?’
The delivery man for the cat-food – ‘Madam aapka toh parcel 9 baje baad hi na?’
The neighbour’s son – ‘You can take the keys when you come back, around 8 no?’
My bai, that irreplaceable support system who knows everything.
And so many other pairs of eyes and ears, all knowing, all judging, all keeping a silent track.
Pause and see how much absolute strangers know about you and your routine. And this is real life. Absolute strangers are privy to so much more information, online.
As single, working girls staying alone, we put a lot into the hands of fate.
It is a good thing the human race is more good than evil.
Otherwise, we make it really easy for serial killers.