Paradise Apartment

8:30 AM

Mithi finds it difficult to contain her excitement this morning.She would be going to her favourite Doctor aunty’s clinic after being holed up at home for about 3 months now!

When mom had teleconsulted Dr aunty the last time,she had guided Ma about the precautions and measures to be taken at home during these times.

1.Lockdown means strictly staying at home.Children should not go out to play with friends and visitors should not be allowed in the house.

2.Teach children the importance of hygiene and proper hand washing with soap and water.Demonstrate how to do it.Hand sanitizers are to be used only when soap and water are not available.Teach them how to cough and sneeze into a tissue and discard it immediately followed by 20 seconds hand washing.

3.A healthy balanced diet should be encouraged,encorporating fruits,vegetables and adequate protein.

4.Children should get adequate sleep.

5.There should be some form of physical activity for about 30 minutes or more everyday.This could be walking indoors,skipping a rope,free hand exercises or yoga.It is best to make it a fun family activity.

6.Restrict screen time.Other than the online classes that children have to attend,restrict their recreational screen time.

7.Encourage them to pursue a hobby or learn something new that interests them.It could be a craft,a musical instrument or even a language.Inculcate the habit of reading.Solicit their help in cooking and cleaning.Play indoor and board games with them.Maintain a comfortable daily routine.

8.Allow them to interact with friends and other family members over phone or video calls.

9.Keep children away from any person who is unwell.

10.Ensure that their annual flu shot is taken.

…………………………………………..

9:00 AM

Child Specialty Clinic.

It is another day of work at the clinic.The doctor is ready to start the OPD after completely sanitizing the consultation area which is open and airy.

She has scrubbed her hands and then donned a PPE suit along with a face mask,face shield and gloves.Though the fans are on full speed,it is hot and suffocating inside the suit and she knows that she wouldn’t be able to drink a single sip of water or visit the rest room for the next few hours but this is the new normal way of working she tells herself and carries on.

The appointments have been given strictly 15-20 minutes apart and only one parent with the child is allowed to enter at a time.Parents and children above the age of two years are asked to wear masks.Those who don’t have them are provided the same by the hospital.

Thermal screening is done at the entrance and hand sanitizer provided.People are instructed not to touch any furniture or the walls and maintain social distance.After every patient the surfaces are sanitized once again and the sheet on the examination table changed.Though all this is tedious and time consuming,adequate precautions must be taken to keep everyone safe from coronavirus infection.

Mithi is a little taken aback by the rituals on entering but it is the appearance of Dr. Aunty which comes as a shock.

She looks like an astronaut wearing a space suit and extremely intimidating. However, Mithi begins to relax on hearing her familiar voice and they chitchat as usual about school, books and friends while going through the motions and before Mithi knows it, there is a tiny prick on her thigh and the vaccination is done!

While bidding them goodbye,Dr aunty reiterates that Mithi should not leave the house unless absolutely necessary and when in need they should use her tele consultation facility as far as possible to avoid hospital visits.

A note from the future.

‘Twas the twenty first year of the twenty first century
When a virus called Corona
Ravaged the entire planet earth,
Each shore and every corner.

The most powerful species,the Man,
Who had plundered the earth and the trees
In a swift stroke by Nature
Was brought down to its knees.

Shorn of all their arrogance
Of being superior in every way,
Humans struggled to keep their kind alive
As the virus felled more everyday.

As the dead and dying multiplied
Exponentially each and every day
They tried everything they could
To keep the pandemic at bay.

Health workers toiled day and night
Beyond what they could endure;
Scientists worked overtime
To find a prevention and a cure.

Countries went into lockdown
With borders sealed and movement stopped.
People maintained social distance
And stayed at home as they prayed and hoped.

At homes they came closer again
Appreciating the work that each one does;
They learnt to live frugally together
Family bonding time it was.

The skies,they turned blue again,
Clean waters in the rivers flowed,
The birds chirped and fauna thrived
While Man was confined indoors.

People united across the globe
And fought together hand in hand
To emerge victorious against the scourge
They had brought upon the land.

They succeeded to slowly bring
The numbers down gradually
And soon it became a thing of the past…
An indelible and painful memory.

A valuable lesson had been learnt
To coexist in harmony with everyone;
That the planet belongs to all species
And Man is master of none!

When I was asked to write an essay titled ‘My father’ by my primary school English teacher, I started out by describing his spectacles.I would probably still do the same.His spectacles were an extension of him,an appendage.They were his crutches,without which he would be unable to navigate the world and savour its joys.

Having lost an eye to retinal detachment at an young age and suffering from extremely high myopia in the other,his (relatively)good eye was the only part of himself that he took care of meticulously.Not surprising then,that he had carefully marked out his Ophthalmologist’s appointment on the calendar even as he was dying of cancer.

He had a taste for fine things that nurtured his soul and he watered these fancies as much as his humble upbringing allowed.He collected stamps,coins,fountain pens and autographs of celebrities.He had one of Sir Edmund Hillary!Some of these he had acquired on his own, and some he had asked his friends and acquaintances to get for him when an opportunity arose.Extremely well read and knowledgeable,he would love to take out these treasures and share the stories of the source,background or history and trivia about them as we children listened enchantedly and dreamt of unseen worlds and times along with him.

He was a voracious reader and the most enduring image of his is him engrossed in a book,holding it closer and closer to his face as his eyesight deteriorated.His books probably were his escape from the mundane.Rarely have I seen anyone with so much thirst for reading and knowledge.I remember the first ‘grown up’ book he took out of the book cupboard for me to read.It was Airport by Arthur Hailey.I was in Std 9.(It is another thing that I had already started reading Sidney Sheldon and Harold Robbins surreptitiously by then!) After that I greedily devoured one by one all the books from the cupboard.Books that belonged to Baba and my grandfather.There were classic as well as contemporary works in English and Bangla there as well as biographies and autobiographies.

His loyal carrier was his two wheeler and the two of us,with me riding pillion,would be a common sight,especiallyduring my college days.From college to various quiz competitions around town,for collecting admission forms and marksheets,for doctor’s visits and dental appointments,for pandal hopping during Durga Puja,for music concerts and even for an occasional treat…you name it!We would be riding around town through rain or shine at a speed of 30-40 kmph on the faithful scooter.

And then there was his transistor radio.He would lay with his eyes shut,the radio perched on his chest,strains of cricket commentary emanating from it.I remember being woken up in the middle of the night or early in the morning by the soft crackle of the radio and the white noise as Baba turned the knobs trying to locate the foreign shore where the match was being played.I remember dozing off again as the heavily accented commentary droned on softly.

His final and newfound love was his mobile phone,especially because of its camera.He took to clicking pictures as he and Ma went around Puja pandals during Durga Puja and also of the family and would love to scroll through them.When he was bedridden,he would grope for his spectacles and mobile phone as soon as he woke up.

It was this phone from which he called me up to inform me that his physician had asked for an upper GI endoscopy.It was also from this phone that he called me to visit him for the last time after months of ups and downs,of laughter and tears,of hopes and heartache.

Frail that he had become,he was unable to go for a haircut to the salon.I will never forget the childlike happiness on his face after I gave him the much needed haircut at home.Life had come full circle as I became his mother that day!

Isn’t my exhaustion written all over me?

My impotent rage?

My disappointments?

A thousand words crowd my mind

And struggle to emerge from my silent lips.

My eyes water as I decimate

The onions on the chopping board.

My hands, they roughly chop the garlic.

Mercilessly.

The soft rounded flesh of the mushrooms

Give way under my sharp knife.

The vegetables sizzle and splutter

When they hit the hot oil.

The fire beneath the pan

Raging with my anger…

Smoke rises heavenwards

And along with it,all the words

And rants I have buried deep inside.

I ladle the gentle salve of stock into the pan

As the hurt and anger

continue to simmer below the surface.

I burn my tongue yet again when I taste it…

I am just so world weary today!

(Pic source-Internet)

The little boy sobbed softly…

His tears making two clear streaks on his grimy face,

His stomach growling with hunger.

The woman looked around

With vacant eyes,

Drained of energy and emotions,

Unable to process information anymore.

She and her husband had walked

Miles and miles,

Taking turns in carrying the boy;

Stopping in an occasional shade

To have a fistful of flattened rice

Or some biscuits a kind samaritan gave.

The city that they helped build

Everyday with their sweat and toil

Had turned its back on them,

Refusing to acknowledge their presence,

Rushing to stock its supplies and provisions,

Locking itself in to stay safe

In a moment of crisis.

The man had been running fever since two days,

His body burning,his eyes bloodshot.

A dry,rasping cough rose from his throat

As he continued to drag his tired feet

Towards home…

Till he collapsed.

The nurse on duty was waiting

For her long shift to end…

Her body tired and aching.

Never before in her long career

Had she seen anything like this!

The daily influx of patients… and the fear in the air.

She said a silent prayer as she moved to the next bed.

The doctor ran down the corridor

Towards the ICU

Just as her cell phone vibrated

For the nth time.

She made a mental note to call up

Her husband and tell him she will be late once again,

That she will let herself in and sleep

In the guest room as usual

After sanitising herself completely.

It had been 14 hours since she

Had seen her husband and daughter.

The patient in bed number 8 had taken a turn

For worse.The migrant worker whose wife

Looked at her with silent,pleading eyes

As she rushed inside.

She tried every protocol in the book…

Shooting instructions to the nurse.

As beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead

In the cool confines of the ICU.

The man breathed his last…

Away from his family.

The time of death was put as 9:00 p.m.

The woman’s world plunged into darkness

As people outside switched off the lights

And lit candles.

Voices.

You can’t silence the voices.

They will speak out.

In urgent murmurs and agitated speeches…

In the sounds of disobedience…

You can’t erase the words.

They are the writing on the wall.

Loud,defiant and rebellious…

In the bleeding colours of resistance…

You can’t hush the songs.

They will ring out loud.

Echoing,reverberating,shaking up the slumber…

In the harmonies of dissension.

You can’t diminish the light

Of knowledge,discernment,consciousness.

Dancing over the marshes of darkness…

In the luminescence of revolution.

I am.

I am Every woman.

I am every woman who has been born

Or not allowed to take birth.

Every girl who toils in the house and has not been sent to school…

Or has been sent to school and given dolls and kitchen sets to play with.

I am every girl who has been told that she must learn housework and her brother need not;

That she must not get too qualified or else she won’t find a match.

Every girl who’s hair,complexion,height or weight has been commented on…

Who has been told how to sit,stand,walk,talk,run,play,sleep because that’s how girls are supposed to do it.

I am every girl who has been warned not to be too friendly with boys,

Not to stay out late,

Not to go places alone,

Not to invite trouble.

I am every woman who has been told to learn self defence.

I am every woman who has been told that her happiness lies in the family’s happiness,

Who has been taught that the ideal conduct is that of service,

Who must prioritise the needs of the family before her own,

Who must know how to cook,clean,look after the children and the adults…

Who has been told to fast and pray for her husband’s long life,

Who must be a multitasker to be hailed as a modern successful woman…

Who must be compliant and non complaining.

I am every woman who has faced physical and mental abuse…

Who has been touched,groped,pushed,elbowed,forced,molested.

I am every woman who has felt fear in her gut,a drying of her throat and a sweating of her palms,

Her heart thumping in her chest just because she is physically weaker and smaller

And there is a predator around…

…Or there isn’t but she is alone and vulnerable and one must always be prepared.

I am every woman who has been suppressed,down sized,pushed back,silenced.

I am every woman and I feel like a gun today.

//Courage:Mental or moral strength to venture,persevere and withstand danger,fear or difficulty.//

It takes courage to stay afloat

It takes courage to keep up the hope

It takes courage to not give up

It takes courage to be able to cope.

It takes courage to say no to hate

It takes courage to not be swayed

It takes courage to stay in love

It takes courage to not let it fade.

It takes courage to acknowledge a wrong

It takes courage to ask for help

It takes courage to rise up again

It takes courage to take a step.

It takes courage to not conform

It takes courage to defy the crown

It takes courage to stick to conviction

It takes courage to not bow down.

It takes courage to seek to correct

It takes courage to keep up the fight

It takes courage to leave darkness behind

It takes courage to walk towards light.

NandiniSS.

“It’s just that I feel terribly lonely these days.Kabir and I hardly communicate.He doesn’t seem to notice that there’s anything amiss at all….He doesn’t notice that I toss and turn sleeplessly at night,that I have lost weight,that I have dark circles around my eyes….There are days when I don’t get out of bed at all and have terrible headaches throughout the day”…Maya’s voice quivered as she spoke the words pretending to talk to her mom over the phone.But,the truth was that she couldn’t bring herself to talk to anyone about this.

And then there were the ants. The ants just wouldn’t stop coming.On some days,a few of them would crawl out of the nooks and crannies of her house,from the corners of the doors and cupboards,below the kitchen sink,behind the photoframes..Maya would always be on the lookout,ready to squash them or spray on them with insecticide….always alert to spot them marching in a straight line along the wall with military

precision.Annoyingly,her house help pretended not to be able to see them.So she took it upon herself to deal with them.

Tranquility slowly descended  on her like a veil after Kabir left in the mornings.This was the time of the day that Maya relished the most,when there was nothing that demanded her urgent attention and she had a couple of hours entirely to herself.She settled down with her cup of tea and sifted through the newspapers.Everywhere,there was depressing news…accidents,natural disasters,terrorist attacks,crime against women,rising prices,farmer suicides…At the other extreme were the pictures of glitz and glamour belonging to a world far removed from the one where most of the inhabitants of the country reside.As she pushed away the papers,one story caught her eye…that of an ongoing trial of a couple who had allegedly murdered their own daughter.She perused the report,but try as she might,she could not recall reading about the actual incident.’How is it possible?’she thought,’surely such an incident must have been splashed on the front page of all the newspapers when it occurred.’How could it have slipped her attention,she wondered.Maya closed her eyes and gently massaged her temples.’What is happening to me?Why are there gaps in my memory?’She realized that she was becoming increasingly forgetful these days.She would keep on checking the fridge door,the gas burner knobs,the main door to make sure that they were secured…

She would often forget where she kept her things.She even forgot to have her lunch once or twice.

Her head buzzing with these thoughts,she slowly drifted off to sleep..only to be startled awake by Kabir shaking her arm.It was then that the dam broke and Maya sobbed uncontrollably as she poured her fears out..

Kabir gently stroked her hair while making soothing sounds, promising to take care of her, no matter what…always.

(10th October is World Mental Health awareness day but awareness must be there everyday.)