I spent time in the courtyard of my apartment complex. There is a large playground in the center, including a basketball court, well-maintained short-cut lawn, plenty of running space, assorted playground rides, a gazeebo, a swimming pool, a dozens of palm trees, plenty of benches, and all surrounded by the tall apartments.
In the afternoons, children and their mothers take to the courtyard.
I saw one mother trying to teach her daughter to ride a bike. The daughter was clearly intimidated by the prospect and was hesitant to pedal. The mother held on to the back seat of the bike, which had a specially-made handle for just this purpose. She moved the bike forward and told the girl to pedal, but the girl wouldn't even maintain her footing on the pedals. The mother growled and scolded, "look at the job you are doing!"
The sister of the girl silently watched, as if she was not looking forward to her own turn. I passed by them as they continued to repeat this exercise of stop and go, attempting to pedal.
Eventually I took a seat on a bench and read my biology book. Many women in saris passed me by, half of them supervising their children.
The sky was blue but as grey clouds began to move in, I returned to my room.
By the time the day was over, I'd gotten eight pages of biology reading done.
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