Pandemic praise

Now that life has returned to normal, here are some things I miss about Covid lockdowns

 

I suppose it was bound to happen. After many months of celebrating the end of Covid lockdowns and rejoicing in the fact that life was returning to normal, I suddenly find myself in the decidedly odd position of missing the pandemic. 

 

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to go back to the bad old days, when we were all locked in our houses and had to wear N95 masks even to open the door for deliveries. And, like so many others, I suffered personal bereavements at this time, the sorrow of which still lingers. But strangely, there are moments when I find myself thinking back to the pandemic with nostalgia rather than dread.

 

What can you possibly miss about those dark days of Covid lockdowns, I hear you ask, in tones of utter incredulity. Well, here are just some things I miss, in no particular order

 

·       What I loved best about the days of the pandemic was how my world shrank down to my core group. All those casual acquaintances, distant family members, professional contacts, all fell victim to social distancing. And what I was left with was the people I truly cared about: my immediate family, my best friends, my closest neighbours. It made me realise that we don’t really need the vast social circle we build around ourselves. All that matters is the handful of people who make your world complete. Everything else is extraneous – and that is a truly liberating feeling.

 

·       The thing I treasured most about this period, when we were all locked up in our homes, was that I had almost unlimited time to myself, where I could do exactly what I wanted without the thousand other distractions that are usually a part of life. This is what allowed me to concentrate on the writing of my novel, Madam Prime Minister (a sequel to my first political thriller, Race Course Road), ensuring that I finished it in record time. Now that I am struggling to finish the spy novel that I am currently working on, I find myself longing for those Covid lockdown days, when it was so much easier to concentrate on my writing.

 

·       Going for walks in my favourite parks when the lockdown became less severe was, without fail, the highlight of my day. There were very few people around because not many folks were venturing outdoors. So, I had vast, vacant spaces to myself for the most part, and I could enjoy the spring flowers and the summer blooms in splendid solitude. Now that the parks are overflowing with picknickers, those Covid-tinged days seem like a dream that ended too soon.

 

·       It was during the pandemic that I rediscovered the romance of the road trip and discovered the charms of places closer to home. Not only was it a relief not to have to brave airport security and long flights to go on holiday, but I also found that road trips brought me closer to the country that I was driving through, giving my experiences an immediacy that air travel sorely lacked.

 

·       But the absolute best bit about the pandemic days was the air that we got to breathe in Delhi. Thanks to the lack of construction work, and absence of vehicular traffic, the pollution virtually vanished. Every day was a blue-sky day and the air quality varied between good and moderate.

 

So yes, the pandemic brought with it death and desolation. But it came with some blessings as well – which can perhaps only be appreciated in retrospect. 

 

Pandemic praise

Now that life has returned to normal, here are some things I miss about Covid lockdowns

 

I suppose it was bound to happen. After many months of celebrating the end of Covid lockdowns and rejoicing in the fact that life was returning to normal, I suddenly find myself in the decidedly odd position of missing the pandemic. 

 

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to go back to the bad old days, when we were all locked in our houses and had to wear N95 masks even to open the door for deliveries. Perish the thought! But increasingly, there are moments when I find myself thinking back to the pandemic with nostalgia rather than dread.

 

What can you possibly miss about those dark days of Covid lockdowns, I hear you ask, in tones of utter incredulity. Well, here are just some things I miss, in no particular order

 

·       What I loved best about the days of the pandemic was how my world shrank down to my core group. All those casual acquaintances, distant family members, professional contacts, all fell victim to social distancing. And what I was left with was the people I truly cared about: my immediate family, my best friends, my closest neighbours. It made me realise that we don’t really need the vast social circle we build around ourselves. All that matters is the handful of people who make your world complete. Everything else is extraneous – and that is a truly liberating feeling.

·       The thing I treasured most about this period, when we were all locked up in our homes, was that I had almost unlimited time to myself, where I could do exactly what I wanted without the thousand other distractions that are usually a part of life. This is what allowed me to concentrate on the writing of my novel, Madam Prime Minister (a sequel to my first political thriller, Race Course Road), ensuring that I finished it in record time. Now that I am struggling to finish the spy novel that I am currently working on, I find myself longing for those Covid lockdown days, when it was so much easier to concentrate on my writing.

·       Going for walks in my favourite parks when the lockdown became less severe was, without fail, the highlight of my day. There were very few people around because not many folks were venturing outdoors. So, I had vast, vacant spaces to myself for the most part, and I could enjoy the spring flowers and the summer blooms in splendid solitude. Now that the parks are overflowing with picknickers, those Covid-tinged days seem like a dream that ended too soon.

·       It was during the pandemic that I rediscovered the romance of the road trip and discovered the charms of places closer to home. Not only was it a relief not to have to brave airport security and long flights to go on holiday, but I also found that road trips brought me closer to the country that I was driving through, giving my experiences an immediacy that air travel sorely lacked.

·       But the absolute best bit about the pandemic days was the air that we got to breathe in Delhi. Thanks to the lack of construction work, and absence of vehicular traffic, the pollution virtually vanished. Every day was a blue-sky day and the air quality varied between good and moderate. Bliss!

 

So yes, the pandemic came with some blessings as well – though we may have been blind to them at the time.

The age of uncertainty

We just have to get used to Covid – and its endless variants – upending our plans again and again

 

If things had gone according to plan, I would have been filing this column from Sri Lanka, sunning myself at a beach resort, while sipping on a Pina Colada. But, as it turns out, I am writing this at my home in Delhi, sheltering from the cold and the pollution in my living room, with two air purifiers going full blast around me. And the only beverage I have in hand is a humble cup of black coffee. 

 

And it is all down to – yes, you guessed it! – Covid. Just as we were firming up our plans to travel, news hit that a new variant, Omicron, was devastating South Africa and had made its presence known in parts of Europe as well. New travel regulations and restrictions soon came into place in India, and even though Sri Lanka wasn’t on any red list, it made sense to postpone non-essential travel. So, we sadly reconciled ourselves to spending time in Delhi, even though the air was poison, especially for an asthmatic like me. 

 

But then, that’s the thing about living in the time of Covid. You never know what tomorrow will bring (though it is beginning to look like it will, with a certain inevitability, bring a new variant) so the only thing you can be certain of is today. You can moan and groan about it – and God knows that I do! – but at the end of the day, you just have to get on with life as it now exists. 

 

So, how does one cope? Well, to employ that well-worn cliché, you cope by living in the moment and for the moment. You carpe the diem, seizing each day by the collar and shaking every last drop of fun and joy out of it. And then, you hope to hell that you can do that all over again, the next day.

 

What you don’t do is make long-term plans. Or frankly, even short-term plans. I have two trips scheduled in January. One to the Kolkata Literary Meet to launch my new book, Madam Prime Minister (a sequel to my first political thriller, Race Course Road) and the other is to the Jaipur Literary Festival to do much the same sort of thing. And every day, I nervously check to see if Omicron has sent the Covid cases in these cities soaring – because if that happens, I am pretty sure that these events will become virtual-only. 

 

But honestly, what is the point of obsessing over the future when we could just be optimizing the present? So, that’s what I have resolved to do.

 

Over the last fortnight or so, I had stopped going for my daily walks to Sunder Nursery, because the pollution levels were so high. But ever since news of Omicron came, and the case count in Delhi began showing an upward trend, I resumed my afternoon perambulations, albeit with an N-95 mask. Who knows if the city will shut down again? So, I might as well make the most of our freedom while it lasts.

 

That is not the only re-calibration I have done in recent times. Having read how quickly the new variant spreads in large gatherings, especially those held indoors, I have declined several invitations to wedding/birthday/anniversary parties on the grounds that it is much better to be safe than Covid-positive. Most of my friends are understanding while some treat me like a misguided Nervous Nelly. But even at the risk of coming across as a party pooper, I have decided to defiantly stay home.

 

After all, that’s all you can do in this Age of Uncertainty – just keep yourself safe to see another day. How you do that is a function of how much risk you want to assume. Are you okay with a dinner party with four other guests? Or are you happy mingling with hundreds at a wedding? Are you okay with long-haul international travel at a time when regulations change all the time? Or would you rather just drive to a neighbouring city for a mini-break?

 

These are questions that all of us will have to answer for ourselves. Though there is very little doubt which side of the divide I will come down on. 

 

The new normal

It’s time to take baby steps back into the world; no matter how nervous it makes us

The first thing I did once the lifting of the lockdown was announced was to drive to Amrita Shergill Marg. No, I wasn’t visiting family or calling on friends. I just wanted to drive down the road to see the amaltas (or laburnum, if you prefer) flowering in all their glory.

Throughout the lockdown, one thought had persisted in my mind. That I would end up missing the blossoming of the amaltas this year altogether. And given that the sight of those yellow blooms is the only thing that makes suffering the Delhi summer worthwhile, it was a depressing thought.

Much to my surprise, though, as I drove through Amrita Shergill Marg, which is studded with laburnum trees on either side of the road, I realized that the trees were late blooming this year. Some of them were showing flashes of yellow, but most of them still had their green canopy.

Phew. There was still time to catch them in all their glory in the weeks to come. My relief was overwhelming as I drove back home, content in the knowledge that I hadn’t missed out on what has always been the highlight of my summer.

What I did miss out on, though, was the beautiful spectacle that is Lodi Garden in the spring. When the lockdown was first announced, the first spring flowers were just emerging shyly from the earth, inching higher every day. But before they could reach even halfway through their life cycle, life as we knew it was over and we were all imprisoned in our homes.

Every evening, around the time that I would usually head out for a walk, I would be overwhelmed by a sense of sadness as I thought about the beautiful flowers that I could no longer feast my eyes on. To paraphrase that old saying, do flowers really bloom in a garden if there is no one around to see them?

Silly question. Of course they do. But somehow in the absence of people who can appreciate their beauty, their existence seems far more insubstantial, ephemeral even.

Even after the lockdown was lifted, though, I could not summon up the courage to head out to Lodi Garden. Given that I have certain co-morbidities that make me more at risk of bad outcomes if I contract Covid, I thought discretion was the better part of valour and continued to exercise in the safety of my own home. And while it would have felt good to get some fresh air after being cooped up for so long, I thought the added pressure of socially distancing from fellow walkers and joggers was not really worth it.

So, even though the lockdown has been lifted I still find myself homebound, because of a combination of fear and anxiety. All these weeks, I have been looking forward to hair salons being opened, so that the disaster that is my hair could be fixed by professionals. But now that I all I have to do is pick up the phone and make an appointment, I find myself hesitating. How embarrassing would it be to admit to someone that I contracted coronavirus because I couldn’t wait to get a hair cut and colour? How vain would that make me seem? And did I really want to risk paying such a high price for my vanity?

Yes, yes, I know what all you brave souls out there are thinking. That there is a minuscule chance of contracting the virus when you are walking in the open air while wearing a mask, especially when others in the park are masked as well. That hair salons – and other such establishments – have sanitary protocols in place to make sure that their clients are safe from infections.

At a rational level, I know all that. But there is still a part of my brain – and the predominant one, at that – which keeps telling me to hunker down at home and not risk stepping out unless it is absolutely essential. And while I can use my cross-trainer at home, and apply the home hair-dye kit (no matter how ineptly), leaving the house for a walk or a root touch-up seems unnecessary at best and frivolous at worst.

So, what would I risk leaving home for?

Well, doctor’s visits are on top of that list. Though, I must confess, that I was frightened out of my wits on my last visit to see my endocrinologist, Dr Ambrish Mittal. The first shock was seeing the clinic so empty, and being treated like a pariah by the staff at reception (“Please stay behind the barrier, ma’am,” one of them instructed me sternly, as I leaned over to hand him my credit card). Then, there was the dystopian sight of seeing Dr Mithal in full PPE gear, complete with face shield, from a safe distance across the room, from where we shouted at each other to be heard.

But I guess all of this is now part of the new normal, and the sooner I adjust to it, the better it would be for me. So, from this week on, I resolved to put my reservations aside and try and re-enter the world as best I can.

Of course, there was a certain inevitability to the fact that the first thing I did in this endeavour was pay a visit to Khan Market. But those familiar environs calmed me somewhat, and now I am all set for new adventures.

Baby steps, I know. But we all have to start somewhere.