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.

Lockdown lessons

Being cooped up at home leaves you plenty of time for self-reflection

I think we are all agreed that this lockdown has been the most challenging time of our lives – no matter what our circumstances. Of course, it is much worse for those who don’t have a home they can isolate in; those who don’t have the luxury of space to socially distance; those who have lost their sources of income and don’t know where their next meal is coming from; and most tragically, those who are walking thousands of kilometers to make their way back to their villages, with all their possessions on their backs.

But even though it is imperative that we check our privilege when we start whining about how bored and irritated we are being stuck at home, there is no denying that after more than six weeks of the lockdown, everyone is going a bit stir crazy.

I must confess that when it all began, I was sure I would be okay with being confined to my house for weeks on end. How hard could it be to stay at home for a few weeks, I asked myself. After all, I have been working out of home for years now, and I am quite used to the being stuck indoors, with just my immediate household to provide me company. So, with a well-stocked kitchen, shelves full of books that I had been meaning to read, and stretches of quiet time in which I could finish the novel I was writing (the sequel to Race Course Road), the lockdown should present no great challenge for me.

Well, six weeks into the lockdown, I have to admit that this enforced isolation is finally getting to me. I do my best to stay in touch with family and friends. In fact, I have never made as many video calls as I do now. I am more active on my Whatsapp groups than ever before. I’ve even done Insta lives to try and stay connected with the outside world. And I am engaging much more on Twitter than I would normally do.

Yet, somehow, that’s not enough. And that has come as a revelation to me.

I have never considered myself to be a particularly social person. Given a choice between going out to a party and sitting at home and reading a good book, I will always choose the latter. My idea of hell is having to make small talk with strangers at formal dinner parties. And I find it hard to make new friends, being quite content with the small, tight group of old pals who have sustained me through the years.

But even for someone who self-identifies as a loner, the lack of human contact at this time has had a peculiarly dispiriting effect. I have found myself dreaming of having a restaurant meal with my girlfriends (no, getting on Zoom while eating our solitary meals at home does not even come close). I make elaborate plans of getting all my family together once the restrictions are lifted. In fact, I am even looking forward to negotiating crowded airports – which I have always loathed – when we are finally allowed to travel.

So, I guess it turns out that I am a social being after all!

But that’s not the only thing I have learnt about myself in this period. I have also realized that I need to better appreciate the people who make up my world. And by that I don’t just mean my household help, though it goes without saying that they have my eternal thanks. I mean those people on the fringes of my life, whose contribution I have tended to take for granted.

For instance, I certainly appreciated my colorist a lot more when, a few weeks into the lockdown, I turned my attention to my greying roots and reached for a home-dye kit. I will spare you the details of what followed but suffice it to say that the results were not pretty. If any salon had done that to me, I would have demanded my money back. But given that this was self-inflicted, all I could do was try not to wince every time I looked at myself in the mirror. And give thanks for the man who would soon be asked to launch a rescue mission.

I felt much the same way when I tried to recreate some of my favourite dishes in my own kitchen. As I peeled and chopped and sliced, and then stood sweating over the stove for hours on end, I suddenly appreciated the effort that had gone into all those restaurant meals I had taken for granted all this time. Never again will I dig into a biryani or tuck into bedmi aloo without giving thanks to the many hands that have created that magic on my plate.

If the lockdown has taught me anything, it is this. It is people that make our world go round. Not just the ones whom you count among family and friends. Not just the ones you love to distraction and would gladly take a bullet for. Not just the ones who love and cherish you.

It is also the ones whom you don’t see or value as you rush through the day. The ones who remain invisible, but bring tangible value to your life. The ones who toil silently so that you don’t have to. The ones you take for granted.

We really should appreciate them all. Lockdown or no lockdown.

  

Going stir crazy?

Here’s a taste of some of the things that are getting me through quarantine

As I sit down to write this column, I have spent five weeks in quarantine. The first two were down to being exposed to a person who was later diagnosed with Covid-19. The next three were part of the national lockdown we are all part of. And it now looks as if we will spend the next two weeks (at least) as well cooped up in our homes.

I don’t need to tell you that this is not easy. All of you must be coping with your own unique difficulties. Some may be finding it hard to work out of home, while juggling the kids’ online classes and household chores. Those who live alone will be suffering the ill effects of social isolation. And there will be those who will be struggling to get even essential supplies in.

I have written in earlier columns about how I was coping with quarantine and what I was most looking forward to when it was finally lifted. But I think this is the time to tell you what are the little joys that are actually helping me get through this period. And yes, despite all my anxiety and angst, there are many.

Here is just a random sample:

• Cooking: I have always enjoyed pottering around in the kitchen, playing around with ingredients, and coming up with dishes that owe nothing to recipe books. But that was an occasional pleasure. These days, though, I am cooking both lunch and dinner, and I must admit that this task is keeping me sane. Partly, it is that I am forced to innovate, because so many ingredients are simply not available, so that makes me stay engaged. But mostly, I think it is because the instinct to feed those you love (and that includes your own self) is the one thing that keeps us going in difficult times. So, I spend every afternoon and evening in the kitchen, making no more than one dish per meal-time – this is not the time to show off – trying to vary the cuisines as much as possible, and making just a little bit extra to bung into the freezer in case of emergency. 

• Sitting out in my balcony: This was always the one area of the house I never visited. For one thing, it gets the full force of the sun all day and can get unbearably hot. And for another, it is so narrow that it can just about accommodate one chair, with no scope of placing even a stool in front of it. But now that this is my only source of fresh air, I have discovered the virtues of this tiny space. For starters, it has a massive Alstonia tree (what we call Saptaparni in India) growing by its side, which has become home to all the neighbourhood birds. Then, there is the fact that the curry patta tree that my housekeeper has nourished to an amazing size, is flowering and the air in the entire balcony is scented with its amazing perfume. Also, when the sun finally goes down, there is a nice breeze that sets up, blowing away the cobwebs of mind as I sip my of coffee (okay, who am I kidding? A gin and tonic, more likely!), balancing the glass delicately on the ledge.

• Comfort reading: I started quarantine off with the best of intentions. I was going to read every worthy tome that was lining my bookshelves, restricting myself to serious reads now that I had the space and time to concentrate on them. But that didn’t last long. A fortnight in and I was done with expanding my mind; now all I wanted was to comfort my soul. And there is no better way of doing that than revisiting your favourite authors, who have kept you entertained for years. So I dipped into a bit of Agatha Christie, burrowed into a few titles by P.D. James, and am now planning to re-read the entire oeuvre of Elizabeth George. Given that she has written some twenty books in the Inspector Lynley series, that should see me through quarantine.

• Scent: I was never one for spraying perfume on myself every day, even during those halcyon days when we could step out of the house. But now that I am housebound, I find myself reaching for the perfume bottle the moment I am out of the shower and spritzing myself with the pick of the day – usually a soothing floral scent. Somehow, in a way that is hard to explain, smelling good serves as a pick-me-up and makes me feel more equipped to face the day. Similarly, when I am getting into my nightclothes, I spray some lavender eau de toilette on myself. And so far at least, it’s helping me sleep well.  

There’s a lot else, of course. There’s my cross-trainer, which has never got so much attention from me and is not quite sure what to do with it. There are the video calls with my girlfriends as we commiserate with each other on our greying roots and unkempt eyebrows. And then, there’s Insta, where we post our cooking videos so that we can share recipes virtually. 

In fact, a couple of days back I even went ‘live’ on Insta, to give my book recommendations to those who tuned it. And I had so much fun doing it, that it’s going on the list of things that will help me get through this. So, stay tuned. I’m going to pop up on your screens soon, wittering on about something or other. Don’t say you weren’t warned!

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.