I am not there yet, but like everybody I believe I will make it through the other end of the pandemic. Just a few big and uncomfortable changes, a never ending lockdown and all will be fine. In the beginning of this pandemic all these changes were strictly followed like “New Year Resolutions”, well, we all know what happens to New Year resolutions. 😪 Experts believe that coronavirus is here to stay and we must adapt to these changes. 😢 Seriously? Did the expert mean that I will always have to route fresh air into my nose through a mesh of tight uncomfortable cotton/nylon or whatever layer they apply for extra protection? I haven’t quite grasped the protectiveness of those layers yet, but a deep inner and outer voice in unison cheer my decision to put out those layers. So when I see my fellow countrymen pulling down those protective layers to inquire or inform me about the random mundane proceedings of life I have mixed feelings. I can relate to their instinct yet wish to shout out to them, “You are the reason I can’t hang out at my favourite mall, movie or restaurant! It’s your fault that I still owe my friend a birthday treat.” These are serious allegations in my court of justice and may God save my countrymen from my fury if they are saved by their immunity from the virus. Nowadays I can’t stop myself from being reminiscent of the good old virus free days.
We were all living a very hectic, sometimes unhappy, mostly stressful, but a restriction free life until that day, that beautiful Sunday, in which there were happy claps and bells all over our and everybody's neighbourhood in India. It was the 22nd day of March of the year 2020. Summer was oncoming and the orange sun lingered a little more in the horizon those days, yet not a soul was loitering in the streets or enjoying a park that evening. No car zoomed past our quiet apartment honking for attention, no one was gossiping about a deadly virus over a cup of tea outside, no one had date nights at fancy restaurants and no one was thinking of taking the family to a mall. No one. The city of joy that day was akin to the city of ghosts. Completely still. All till the stroke of 5pm. At the exact stroke of 5 everyone was out in their balcony/patio clapping, cheering and sounding bells. The streets that were empty of humans was filled with hope. The air was loaded with such a strong emotion of unity that any crotchety person might as well be a trespasser trespassing a beautiful loving family reunion, where all the long lost distant relatives had finally gathered. It was as if the diverse people of a united nation were being tuned in to a single channel. It was the day of Janta Curfew.
We were all living a very hectic, sometimes unhappy, mostly stressful, but a restriction free life until that day, that beautiful Sunday, in which there were happy claps and bells all over our and everybody's neighbourhood in India. It was the 22nd day of March of the year 2020. Summer was oncoming and the orange sun lingered a little more in the horizon those days, yet not a soul was loitering in the streets or enjoying a park that evening. No car zoomed past our quiet apartment honking for attention, no one was gossiping about a deadly virus over a cup of tea outside, no one had date nights at fancy restaurants and no one was thinking of taking the family to a mall. No one. The city of joy that day was akin to the city of ghosts. Completely still. All till the stroke of 5pm. At the exact stroke of 5 everyone was out in their balcony/patio clapping, cheering and sounding bells. The streets that were empty of humans was filled with hope. The air was loaded with such a strong emotion of unity that any crotchety person might as well be a trespasser trespassing a beautiful loving family reunion, where all the long lost distant relatives had finally gathered. It was as if the diverse people of a united nation were being tuned in to a single channel. It was the day of Janta Curfew.
Coronavirus or COVID 19 was first discovered in the bazaars of China and henceforth shared with the entire planet. While the world was busy debating the intentions of China, the virus was busy devouring nations.
India, soaked in its chaotic humdrum of life, had not recognised COVID 19 as something worthy of much attention.
India, soaked in its chaotic humdrum of life, had not recognised COVID 19 as something worthy of much attention.
"All foreign returned NRIs should be what you call it, Qua.. quaratime... arrree.... that in which you lock a potentially sick person in a room for some days." Some random tea drinker would say.
"Quarantined?" The elitest of the tea drinker would snobbishly remark.
"Quarantined?" The elitest of the tea drinker would snobbishly remark.
So far this disease, that had wreaked havoc in many unfortunate nations, was not much more than a voguish topic for tea time discussion in India. We thought it would limit it's presence to the chai time breaks of our lives until the scenario altered. A few NRIs escaped their quarantine and infected a few non-NRIs. The infected non-NRIs infected more. In a short span the numbers doubled and then trebled. All shops, services, workplaces and of course, the countrymen were asked to maintain a ‘social distance’ of at least six feet. The virus fortunately, unathletic and obese by virtue of its disposition, was not air borne and transmitted primarily through infected surfaces or close contact. Yet when no one socially distanced themselves and the numbers continued surging a more stringent order was announced by the Prime Minister. Lockdown, it was called. On 24th March 2020 the whole country went for a lockdown of twenty one days. All shops, services, business transactions, travels, constructions and even local transportations had been suspended.
And thus a country of boisterous, somewhat frenzied people became a ghost town overnight with empty silent streets. The only thing loitering our streets were these ↓↓↡⬇️.
In those silent times a select few had the liberty to walk down the isolated lanes and carry on with their natural routine in an unnatural way. They were called the COVID warriors. The real warriors of this time were the doctors and nurses and other medical staff who were busy healing our patients, however, there were other warriors too. For example, the Angel Grocery Storewala, our COVID warrior, could continue his business without supplies because the transport guy was not a warrior.
Our grumpy local pharmacist, again a COVID warrior, frowned at the sight customers. Miniature masks was all he had to offer after running out of medicines to those queuing outside his shop in those demarcated circles. Even our friendly vegetable seller (another COVID warrior) who brought us fresh vegetables from the farmlands was more and more infrequently spotted at her stall.
We bankers were COVID warriors too, albeit overlooked ones. The nation throughout the lockdown appeared to be very enthusiastic in forming queues outside banks to withdraw bit by bit in small doses throughout the month. This was the second time in my career that I was reminded by my higher ups that I was doing a noble job of helping the people of my nation in distressed times who believed that their biggest cause of distress is lengthy lunch hours.
It's been two months now of being soaked in sanitisers, detergents, masks, gloves and covers. Even my phones have a proper ablution ritual now. Most of my favourite shops are closed and life as a whole came to a standstill. It's as if someone decided to wipe out the good things and replace them with anxiety and drudgery. Any news we hear is high in doses of anxiety and uncertainty. While we are busy imagining ourselves deprived of continental food the makers of the food have gone out of business. IaSometimes I wonder what the people on those mountains are doing?... Those people who run guest houses for tourists like me and those who drive curious souls like me around the place. How are they surviving these times? When will this uncertainity end? Will this end at all?
And thus a country of boisterous, somewhat frenzied people became a ghost town overnight with empty silent streets. The only thing loitering our streets were these ↓↓↡⬇️.
In those silent times a select few had the liberty to walk down the isolated lanes and carry on with their natural routine in an unnatural way. They were called the COVID warriors. The real warriors of this time were the doctors and nurses and other medical staff who were busy healing our patients, however, there were other warriors too. For example, the Angel Grocery Storewala, our COVID warrior, could continue his business without supplies because the transport guy was not a warrior.
Our grumpy local pharmacist, again a COVID warrior, frowned at the sight customers. Miniature masks was all he had to offer after running out of medicines to those queuing outside his shop in those demarcated circles. Even our friendly vegetable seller (another COVID warrior) who brought us fresh vegetables from the farmlands was more and more infrequently spotted at her stall.
We bankers were COVID warriors too, albeit overlooked ones. The nation throughout the lockdown appeared to be very enthusiastic in forming queues outside banks to withdraw bit by bit in small doses throughout the month. This was the second time in my career that I was reminded by my higher ups that I was doing a noble job of helping the people of my nation in distressed times who believed that their biggest cause of distress is lengthy lunch hours.
It's been two months now of being soaked in sanitisers, detergents, masks, gloves and covers. Even my phones have a proper ablution ritual now. Most of my favourite shops are closed and life as a whole came to a standstill. It's as if someone decided to wipe out the good things and replace them with anxiety and drudgery. Any news we hear is high in doses of anxiety and uncertainty. While we are busy imagining ourselves deprived of continental food the makers of the food have gone out of business. IaSometimes I wonder what the people on those mountains are doing?... Those people who run guest houses for tourists like me and those who drive curious souls like me around the place. How are they surviving these times? When will this uncertainity end? Will this end at all?
