Staying in what we in India call a ‘gated community’ comes with its share of amusements.

As I write this, a group of women in yoga or harem pants are contorting themselves to a yoga teacher’s instructions on the basketball court. I watch from my window, feeling rather like a sheepish peeping Tomini.

Further away, people roar in laughter. I was quite startled the first time I encountered this. I was running past some older folks standing solemnly around in a circle. I thought they were discussing serious matters of health or the state of the world and tried to scurry past.

Suddenly, they roared, “Hahahhaha, oooooh hahaha hahaha,” causing me to stumble and almost fall. Me being me, I first thought they were laughing at me until I realized this laughter was produced on demand.

I smiled along, not quite able to summon their roaring hahahahhas. Laughter Clubs are a pretty delightful way to start your mornings, if you ask me.

Then, there’s a man dressed in a dhoti, who sits on the pavement by the park, and nods sagely at me with a pleased smile, as if I am doing something wondrous in running. I don’t know him, but he is always delighted to see me, even as he sits for an hour or so, staring at the world. No benches for him. The pavement will do for contemplation.

Another man in a T-shirt always sits on his favorite bench, facing the bamboo garden, exhaling rapidly, stomach heaving. I was worried at first before I realized he was doing the Art of Living’s Sudarshan Kriya.

One boy also comes in at 6 am to dribble ceaselessly on the basketball court. I have had pretty murderous thoughts enter my mind when this boy comes around, forgive me. The usual dog walkers sleepily carry poo bags, which wobble, threatening to spill their contents onto unsuspecting walkers and runners. There’s White Dog 1, who hates me, and considers my ankles a rather delicious breakfast. Black Dog 1 doesn’t care about ankles; he needs to sniff every pore of my sweaty self.

If I fend off both, I may run into the woman who gloriously runs in a full burkha and the brown tabby cat who always pokes her nose to find out why we do such silly things like run and walk.

Stay a while, and you will see the yellow buses piling in as mostly harassed-looking moms throw their kids inside the buses. There’s always a kid missing, and everyone waits, bus engines whirring, until said kid comes running, with the mom running too. I am also running. Why are we all running, I want to yell.

And to think, I have barely covered two blocks of life here. Sometimes, life can unfold in the slowest of ways, a flower uncurling itself. Sometimes, life is a painful blot on fading ink. Sometimes, life is a burst of color, riotous and rearing its wild head at you, inviting you to just dance.

Or perhaps, to just laugh, like those at the Laughter Club will tell us. Are you laughing today?