Off to the movies!

Watching James Bond do his stuff in the cinema hall, it felt as if life was finally returning to normal

 

Streaming services have kept me sane during the pandemic, and I will always be grateful to them for the cheer they provided during this difficult time. But even as I was binge-watching all my favourite shows from the comfort of my couch, I still missed going to the cinema. There is something special about sitting in a large, darkened hall, with a bunch of other people and watching a movie on a giant screen. And no matter how hard you try to replicate that experience at home, it simply does not work.

 

So, you can imagine my excitement when Delhi cinemas opened just in time to air the new James Bond movie, No Time To Die. But that excitement was shot through with more than a smidgen of apprehension. Was I really going to sit in close proximity with strangers in a closed space for around three hours? Did the risk-benefit analysis really work? Was it worth taking a chance on getting Covid simply so that I could watch Daniel Craig on a big screen, doing the final honors by Bond? 

 

Well, after much agonizing and discussion with my husband – a die-hard Bond fan himself – I decided to bite the bullet and head out to the movies. Cinemas are only allowed to sell 50 per cent of their seats, but we decided that discretion was the better part of valour and chose an afternoon show on a weekday, on the grounds that this would be less crowded.

 

It’s hard to describe the thrill when we entered the darkened hall to be shown to our last-row seats by an usher. Looking around, we were delighted to note that our strategy had worked. The hall had only a smattering of people, all of them seated at some distance from one another. In fact, we had sat in closer proximity to strangers in some restaurants we had dined at recently; not to mention some flights we had taken since the pandemic began.

 

Somehow those comparisons made me feel rather more secure. And even though I had arrived wearing an N-95 mask, which I was determined to keep on for the duration of the movie, I soon began re-evaluating my decision. As the smell of buttered popcorn wafted in the air, and my mouth began watering in anticipation, I began to wonder why I was so reluctant to unmask in here. After all, I unmask and eat in restaurants and airplanes all the time, when other people are seated so much closer to me. So, why was I so scared to do so in a cinema hall, where there was far more social distancing?

 

My husband must have been having the same kind of thoughts, because the next thing I knew we had giant tubs of popcorn in our laps (with Diet sodas on the side). And as the ads finally ended and James Bond appeared on our screens to scattered applause, we settled down to the movie experience that millions have enjoyed over the past decades. A crunch of salty popcorn in our mouths, washed down with a rush of sugary sweetness, and a cracking good story on the big screen to lose ourselves in. 

 

It felt so great to be back at the movies. But more than that, it felt great to have a taste of normalcy in our lives. To do the kinds of things that we did before the pandemic struck. For those three hours at least, we could pretend that Covid 19 did not exist and all was well in the world.

 

Of course, the moment the movie ended and we put our masks back on to exit the cinema hall, reality came crashing back. The coronavirus is still very much among us and will probably be around for years to come. But the only way to cope, I believe, is to take joy in little things – like being able to go to the movies. 

 

You should try it – but pick an afternoon, weekday show if you can!

 

Life is for living

Getting back to normal – one baby step at a time 

 

So, finally, after many months of breathless anticipation, one of my fantasies came true. I finally managed to meet my girlfriends – in person, no less! – for coffee. (What did you think I was on about? Honestly, get your mind out of the…well, never mind!)

 

All three of us had been double jabbed, the requisite waiting period for immunity to kick in was over (during which one of us had even had a mild case of Covid), and we had been adhering to social distancing norms like our lives depended on it (spoiler alert: they did). So, as the case load in Delhi fell to under 200 daily cases and the positivity rate went below 1 per cent, we decided that it was time we threw caution – and our masks – to the wind and finally met up for a cup of coffee. 

 

That said, we were still wary enough not to risk congregating in a public place full of unmasked strangers. So, we opted to meet at the home of one of us, sitting in an airy, well-ventilated room, which looked out on a verdant lawn, exchanging elbow bumps rather than hugs as a concession to the virus. In the event, it was too hot a morning for coffee, so all three of us chose to have nimbu pani instead, loaded with lots of ice and a divine hint of kala namak. 

 

And as we quaffed our drinks and exchanged gossip, often talking over one another in our excitement to finally be together, it finally felt that life was returning to normal – or, at least, to a semblance of normalcy.

 

Don’t get me wrong. We had been Zooming one another regularly all through the pandemic so it wasn’t as if we had lost touch. But there was something truly special to finally see each other in the flesh, to comment on how good someone’s hair was looking, how perfect the other’s outfit was, and how much I loved the new nail polish they had experimented with during the lockdown. 

 

So, there we sat, goofy smiles on all our faces, feeling giddy with pleasure at being able to properly connect with one another at last. And when we said goodbye a couple of hours later, it was with tight hugs, the elbow bumps having been retired in an unspoken consensus.

 

I felt so good after this close encounter, that I was emboldened to plan another: this time a dinner at the home of one of our closest friends. It would be just the four of us – all of us double jabbed – and we would catch up over a few bottles of wine and maybe the odd glass of champagne. And so, for the first time ever since Covid struck, we sat down to dinner at a table with another couple, to feast on roast lamb, salad, quiche, and some delicious conversation.

 

It really felt as if a dam had burst, as all the stuff that had been festering deep within us came bubbling to the surface. We discussed everything under the sun: the state of the economy; the travels we had undertaken over the last few months; how their daughter was missing out on the teenage experience having been stuck at home for more than a year; the books we had read and written; and so much more. 

 

It felt so amazing to just sit down and talk. And talk to people that we could actually see, whose expressions we could react to in real time, instead of images on a screen whose visual cues were often impossible to pick up on. So novel was this feeling after a year and a half of isolation that we stayed up way later than we should have, exchanging gossip, reminiscing about past times, and storing up memories for the future.

 

As my husband and I drove back home that night, we promised ourselves that this would not be a one-off. We would be rejoining the world of the living, Coronavirus be damned. And, if you ask me, it’s not a moment too soon.

Post-Corona life

When things go back to normal – and they will – this is what I will do first

As I sit down to write this column, I have already been housebound for 14 days after having come into contact with someone who was later diagnosed with Covid-19. And just when I was ready to rejoin the world, the Prime Minister announced a three-week, nation-wide lockdown, which means I will now end up being quarantined for five weeks in all.

I shouldn’t complain, though. With a well-stocked kitchen, plenty of books to read, and three streaming services at the ready, I am more prepared than most to ride out a lockdown. Also there’s the fact – as I wrote last time – that as someone who works out of home, I am more used than others to the solitary life. But even so, staying cooped up at home, with just the occasional visit to my teeny-tiny balcony to catch a whiff of fresh air, is beginning to make me stir-crazy. Not to mention, a little bit bonkers – I even caught myself talking to my plants the day before yesterday. (Though psychiatrists say that talking to your plants is fine; it’s when they start talking back to you that you should ask for help.)

That said, I am trying to keep to my normal routine as much as possible. I still get up at my usual time, have breakfast, make sure to shower, dress and even slap on some make-up before I sit down to work on my book. I stride up and down the house in lieu of my usual walk in the park and try to ensure that I get my 10,000 steps in. I mark mid-day by having lunch. I celebrate the end of my workday by having a last cup of coffee. I cook dinner every evening, set the table, and eat a proper dinner with my husband. Sometimes to cheer ourselves up, we even open a nice bottle of wine to accompany our home-cooked meal. 

I try not to disappear down the hole of social media, restricting myself to checking Twitter every couple of hours. I don’t watch TV during the daytime. And I turn off Netflix/Amazon/Hotstar at a reasonable hour at night even if I am not sleepy. I find it’s much better to wind down by reading in bed rather than watching yet another episode of that addictive show. 

But even though life goes on, albeit in an altered form, I find myself acutely missing many things that I took entirely for granted in pre-Coronavirus times. And I can’t wait for this period of quarantine to be over, so that I can go back to doing all the things that mark normality for me. 

Here’s just a small sampler:

• Going for a walk: I wouldn’t have thought that I would miss this quite so much, given that in normal times, I often had to push myself to get my sneakers on and out of the door. But now that that option is no longer available to me, I find myself longing for the spring-flowers laden ambience of Lodi Garden, where the sound of birdsong accompanies me as I walk down the tree-lined pathways. And I am sure that when I am back at my favourite walking spot – even though the weather will have heated up by then – I will appreciate it even more for having experienced its absence.

• Having lunch with my friends: Hanging out with my girlfriends, whether over lunch, a coffee, or even a drink, was something that I always took for granted. In retrospect, though, those girlie lunches or girls nights out were a lifesaver for me – and I suspect, for them as well. It gave us a chance to vent if we were unhappy, to exult if things were going well, and to share if we were troubled about something. Yes, I know we can always use Zoom for a virtual hang-out, but sorry to say, it’s nowhere as nice as the real thing.

• Dropping in on my sister: I don’t get a chance to do that very often at the best of times, but this may mark the longest period that I have not had a chance to see her in person – video chats are all very well, but there is no substitute for in-person contact. So, as soon as this nightmare is over, I am headed over, with a hotpack containing the channa-bhaturas we love so much, for some much needed Didi-time.

• Eating a meal in a restaurant alone: Most people don’t get it, but I actually enjoy going out to eat on my own. Whenever my writing is not going well, I head out to one of my regular haunts, with just a good book for company. I eat a simple meal, flush my mind out completely, and come back to work, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. I can’t wait to do that once more.

• Going to the beach: It’s a funny thing. Until now, whenever I have been on a beachside vacation, I have always ended up complaining about what the humidity does to my hair (you really don’t want to know). And yet, now that travel seems an impossibility, it is the beach that I find myself longing for: the smell of salt water; the smoothness of the sand between my toes; the cooling waves lapping against my feet. Even the wild, frizzy tangle that is my hair at the beachside will be well worth it.