Thursday, April 16, 2020

Life after Corona



Someone called it a Pandemic. Some others called it an infodemic.

I had only thought of an epidemic but just look at what it has become? The dimensions it has assumed, the lessons it has taught? Whatever it was, my perceptions have suddenly acquired all the five senses, whereas earlier they were subsisting only on the visual and the occular. My understanding has gotten sensitized to things unseen. My mind has branched out to cover uncharted territories and discover precious recesses which had never been visited. Or recognized. Or applauded. And once it gets over, the wings of my consciousness shall yearn to fly and discover the hitherto uncharted world.

There is so much more than I had ever imagined! What was I doing? Being on the wrong side of fifty makes me feel as if I have wasted my time and now its short.

The newspapers at first confused me. “Infodemic” it was, though I don’t think there is a word like that in the dictionary. Yet.The television was screaming caution. And heaping allegations. Everyone looked pale. Ignorant. Scared.  How does novel Corona travel, how does it find a body and enter it, etc etc. How different is it from the earlier Coronas? Many people, many opinions and so many theories! Biases and prejudices. They said the novel Corona virus looks like a crown, hence the name given. That it is like nothing ever born before and has the power to kill. There have been several coronas before, but this is the deadliest. That no vaccine or cure is in sight. As a starter, the virus’ DNA mapping had to be done or was already done as a pre-condition for researching the vaccine that will safeguard us from this novel Corona.

And one day someone said the virus can be airborne too. Oh My God! So its floating around me, unseen! That got my goat. Wasn’t it enough that it could spread through contact? In school, we were always told to delicately sneeze and cough in our handkerchiefs; now this became the norm, nay, rule. And using sanitizers became the eighth vow of hindu marriage. “I shall always have a bottle of sanitizer at the stretch of a hand.”

The virus needed christening- COVID 19, it was called after much deliberation.

A once in hundred years phenomenon. A very humbling experience for all of humanity. Not because I was spared the infection which means I am destined to live a little bit longer, but because of what it implied- we witnessed nature coming back with a vengeance. Powerful as ever, it belittled us humans who had been presumptious enough to defy the tenets of harmonious co-existence.

Social distancing was born. Handshakes and hugs were forbidden. I realize now that a more apt term would have been physical distancing. Because socially we came much closer ( on media that is!) and often we saw hearts and hugs  and high fives floating around in abundance. Social media became a go to place for anyone who could not withstand physical distancing for very long. Relationships forgotten for years together took on a new meaning, propelled by media. Long distance love became the need of the hour. Whether it was sibling love, or love of the amorous kind, it helped us survive.

Talking about daily bread- we stocked up for a month- maybe even six weeks. The daily wage earners couldn’t stock up for a week even. When we shared our largesse with them they yielded with folded hands and bent heads. For food over which they have a birthright. ”If God then so clothes the grasses of the field;
Which today will live, and feed the oven tomorrow?
Will he not be much more ready to clothe you?
Men of little faith?” Did I not read this poem in school?
I felt like a heel robbing them of their birthright.

I grew up reading the world is racist. I now know it is not- we all stood up as one in our efforts to bid adieu to the novel Corona. Even the virus is not racist; neither are the animals and birds that have come out for a walk in the sun because the sun is shining brightly, like it used to, long time ago. Without that film of pollution clouding it. They have just walked out and flown into the “great wide beautiful wonderful world” as described by William Brighty Rands. As if it is their very own. And of course it is! Boundaries? What boundaries?

I have increasingly begun to believe that racism is in the minds of all those humans who have nothing better to do. And the boundaries are our own limiting pettiness and make us behave like ogres.

It is this pettiness that has begun to tell us to mess up other peoples’ worlds; not realizing that in fact, we are messing up our very own too. Do we still believe we can define your world or mine? Or is it simply ours, to preserve and cherish?

I read about the ravages of WW I and WW II because I wasn’t born then. But this I have seen and lived every minute of the struggle. I therefore see raw emotion taking over, superseding reason. It has not been as easy as racing through a text book by an eminent World History professor or a novel by Leon Uris.

A major shift in economic activity is foreseen. A slow and jittery start with many bugs along the way. I see a real feeling of security or lack of it, whatever we decide to choose, as against the bubble that we called our lifestyle just three months ago.

I guess, in the aftermath, we will have learnings facilitating our decisions- not even a small lesson will, hopefully, go unheeded and unnoticed. I see people, more guarded; more conscious of the situation, of each other. I am hoping the warmth continues. Though mostly they have all gone back to discussions on nail biting elections and back biting politics. And a post-mortem of how the COVID-19 could have been better handled. Also to the vital question about whether we can call it W W III. Literally, who won?  Sad end to the virulent flamboyant novel Corona.

There is an increased respect of the curers; the doctors, the researchers, healthcare workers. What would we have done without them? They set forth, like true soldiers with no fear for their lives, to protect the people of a country, not the political boundaries or the disputed territories. They protected lives to the best of their means and ability.

Househelp is asking for a raise. And I just feel like giving them more than they are asking for. They have proved how precious they are by their very absence. And it was me who asked them to stay home; they were willing to come to work amid all the exposure because they had to earn their daily bread.

I need to get back to waking up on time in the mornings! The “stay home” made us all unmindful of timings. All except a few very determined ones lost their routine but did their chores. Whenever, wherever. However.

I might also need to use my alarm on the hand phone for a reminder to unlatch  the front door every morning. These days we don’t step out , you see, so the latch stays in place.

Life after Corona? Very simply put- minimalistic. The needs reduced to bare minimum, because after all, did we not survive? The paraphernalia did not help us combat the virus; the absence of paraphernalia did.

Did I wear my stylish new heels while staying home? So do I need to wear them now when going out? Of course not. The keds are sufficient.

I just manicured my hands and feet this morning in order to feel more beautiful. But during the reign of the Corona, working hands looked most beautiful. I miss them now.

There is a nagging fear of what will happen if the novel Corona comes back. Que sera sera, what will be, will be.

Life will never be the same again. At least for us who met the deadly Corona face to face. Handshake to handshake. Hug to hug, the virus was always intruding for these three months ever since we found it wrecking havoc in China.

For those who will read only the stories later on, this might be a historic once in 100 years phenomenon that nature creates for a clean up long overdue. The muck that builds up is a necessary evil accompanying irresponsible human behavior where selfish humanity gets trampled and compromised because nature is playing up and we do not know how to combat the wrath. In all probability it will enjoy the same status as the Spanish flu. Maybe the SARS and MERS and Ebola come close but COVID-19 takes it away.

I had started getting the feeling that I had arrived; now it is clear that I have a long long way to go. And I don’t even know whether I will reach or not. I am on the wrong side of fifty you see and don’t have much time.

Wednesday, April 8, 2020

Siblings- blessings

I don’t remember a time when my sister wasn’t there around me. She was always there. Always. So you can say we are more like twins. Fraternal twins. Not defying the myth that twins are very similar, but suffice to say that we are not so same same.

My other sibling, my brother came ten years after I did, so I do remember a time when both of us sisters were like princesses and our parents were bringing us up in the hollow of their palms. When my brother came, it got a bit crowded on the palm so with a sigh of relief we realized that we were being weaned off the royal treatment to live like normal girls.

Now he was the prince and we the regents who were bringing him up. Our newfound status was that of assistants to our mother and we did it to the hilt. In fact, when my brother grew up to be 12, he was tall and thin, lanky is the right word. Often people would ask him, “Why are you so thin and lanky?” And he would reply with a twinkle in his eye, “I have my mother and two sisters around me all the time. So I get no place to grow sideways! I can only grow upwards!” Uff! How thankless could he be, considering that we stepped down from our princess status only to make room for him? The baby to whom we were little mothers? Well to compensate for the unkind jibe, we beat him up when mom wasn’t looking. Blessed with a superb sense of humour, he kept us smiling all the time. In fact, even now, whenever we meet, it is a riot; a treat to talk together and laugh together- gives us the stamina to take life head on.

Those days, his friends would call us bossy too! While it did not hurt us but sometimes we  sisters introspected and then convinced ourselves we were just being good big sisters. “Bah!” I said one day when one of his little boyfriends from the US came home and called us both “bossy girls!” “Wait till I get my hands on you, you little pappu!” And he told them not to meddle with me because I was dangerous!

Life was good and my sister and I were growing up fast! In school we used to braid our long black hair into two neat plaits with black ribbons and wore long john socks with our very practical buckled ballerina shoes. Our mother was very sure that despite our upbringing, we must get into the habit of taking care of our own basic chores like for example, washing socks and handkerchiefs and polishing shoes. She said no one will do it for anyone and knowing how lazy I could get, my sister was specially told that on no account must she wash mine.

The result was that I was always late for school, aggravated by the fact that I was most loathe to get up in the morning and then polish my shoes, hunt for a clean pair of socks, wash my handkerchief and iron it dry, etc.

So going back to the time we were in year two or three at school, we went through the Indo Pak war of 1971 which coincided with the liberation of East Bengal rechristened Bangladesh.  Our dad was summoned to be a part of the Civil Defence Team which would look after the city of Jabalpur during any extraordinary security threats to the people and the town. You see, Jabalpur was an important Cantonment and also had a couple of defence manufacturing establishments- the Gun Carriage Factory and the Ordinance Factory which was a plum target for the Air Raid guys. It was not easy to access by Infantry or any Army Battalion by virtue of its location in the Centre of India right on the Tropic of Cancer 231/2 degrees North.

So, I remember that all the residents of Jabalpur were told to paint their windows and door panes black. The wailing sirens from the Control Room would signal an approaching aircraft suspected of being loaded with a bomb which the enemy would try to drop strategically to destroy the defence establishments. There were no Google maps and no GPS then, so they had to be guided by the lights visible from their fighter planes. And so we had to run and switch off all the lights in the house, the streetlights would go off and then we would see our father off, speeding away on his Royal Enfield with dimmed headlight, to the Control Room. My mother would hold our hands tightly and we would sit huddled together in a corner of our big house waiting for the long siren announcing “all clear.” I remember my sister holding tightly on to my mother and I remember just screwing my eyes shut because I was afraid of the absolute dark. I can never forget the huddle and the touch- it took us through the crisis. We never got bombed and my father received the President’s Medal for Civil Defence Service during war. We were proud daughters and basked in reflected glory. As sisters, we still felt differently about so many things but agreed on this one.

In 1973, the Comet Kohoutek made an appearance after almost 150,000 years and was also seen in India. People would wake up early morning to see the star with a broom like tail which they believed would bring them lots of bad luck. The country was reeling under a depressed economic cycle and superstition was rife. My sibling and I would wish for all good things to happen because now we were growing up and realizing that positivity was necessary for all living things. We were truly growing up and how. By now we had learnt all about the solar system so we would scare our little brother and younger siblings of our friends by telling them fiendish stories about these planets- just cooking up scary bits by telling them how evil Saturn could get or how cruelly hot Mars was. Our storytelling capabilities were perfected by our Elocution teacher in school and we actually made some of the kids scream with fear! Such fun days they were!

In 1975, we had a lot of unrest and conflicting politics. We were still in middle school and my brother had started going to nursery school when the Government of India announced Emergency in the country. There was turmoil and sometimes schools closed down because security prohibited group meetings. Then I spent my time painting on the backs of old calendar pages- those days we used to have big poster size calendars with 12 pages for 12 months and I used my watercolors to express my angst. I don’t know if my sister appreciated what I painted, but she wasn’t rude either and concentrated on her studies.

 We both found our own ways of keeping busy though often I wasn’t able to understand how one could be busy studying when there was so much happening around us. But she was a good student and her report card said it all. I got the rhetorical comment “Dolly can do well but she is so distracted!” By 1977, the emergency was lifted and things got better. But my distractions increased because under the frenzied wave of indigenization Coke was taken off the shelves and Cadbury was threatened- both of which were our sustenance. My sister and I would lament and envied our cousins abroad who had all of this and more. And I continued to be distracted and she continued to score good marks!

Life then was not as hectic as it is now, so my parents had a leisurely social life. Often they would go visit friends. We had very little family in Jabalpur but had very close friends. Then my sister and I would sit together in the drawing room on the wooden sofa with cushions and have coffee and cake. That taste of coffee is precious; I have not come across anything so beautiful and so full of love as that coffee my sister used to make. And that cake which our father baked was and is the best yet. My father has since, passed on to the next life and my sister now dishes out exotic grub, but that coffee still lingers on my taste buds. And I have never been able to bake a cake even half as good.

And when I got married, my siblings made it a perfect occasion. I couldn’t have asked for more. Now both my siblings are married too, happy with their own families while we support each other enriched with the efforts and sensitivities of our spouses. I hope we make our mother proud of us. It is with joy and pride that I belong to my family and wouldn’t have it any other way.