Love in the times of Covid 1

The Capulets and Montagues had nothing on them. An enimity that went back 40 years. Over an ill matched romance ? A business rivalry ? A joint pursual of Miss September Gardens ? If only . It all started over the mango tree. When it grew so big that the spread of its branches overran the boundary wall. When a branch grows it puts out leaves, then flowers . Flowers that turned into the most juicy alphonsos this side of anywhere. But they were then good neighbours. So the mangoes were harvested and what grew on this side of the wall stayed on this side of the wall and what did’nt, did’nt. They bought a new car. Maruti 800. Luxury. No more BEST bus queues. No more walking to the Mount. The best place to park it was in the shade of the mango tree. But the leaves and the crows were a problem. So they bought a net for the leaves and a catapult for the crows. Perfect. Until the monsoon came and with a huff and a puff, a big branch of the mango tree came crashing down. Taking with it, net, windscreen glass and one side mirror. Scarring for life the roof top and bonnet.
C “I told them to trim their tree before the monsoon”
M “Serves them right. Showing off with a new car”
C “Anyway its their tree that fell on our car so they should pay for the repairs.”
M “ when mangoes were falling it was theirs, when trees are falling its ours? Ha !”
 And so it went. They didn’t send each other Christmas sweets that year. Or the next. Or ever. The youngest had her first communion party. There was an anonymous police complaint about the noise. The over hanging branches were chopped every year. Brutally. When they went on holiday, plants stayed unwatered and goldfish died. The plants too. Going for evening mass instead of morning eliminated the need to cross the road. Which eliminated the need to say Good Morning. Or looking left and walking straight. Grocery shopping was a problem. Get a rickshaw. Go to Shakari Bandar. Provisions for a week could not fit into one bag. Four bag two trips from dispatch counter to rickshaw line. One eye on the richshaw walla to ensure he doesn’t drive of with second lot while you unload the first lot. Anyways that’s to Corona rickshaws were off the road. A twenty year old with four bags is a problem. A sixty year old with four bags is a two man project.
 “ Let me help you Aunty “
“Thank you Baba”
“I’ll drop you home aunty ?”
“Sorry I cant hear too well thru this face mask. So much trouble for you”
“St. Leos Road ?”
“I’m on St. Leos Road too.”
“This house? “
“Say hello to your Mum and Dad baba. Tell them to be careful . These are dangerous times.”
“Will do Aunty and if you need anything just shout over the wall.”