Darshana Suresh's Blog, page 2

Abstraction

src: dreamstine

It's a brand new day with no agenda. Chores, reading, chores, a movie, and more chores. Not that there are that many of them, but they tend to be the highlight of an otherwise sedentary lifestyle. I browse the internet and find this rotating cube at the bottom of news websites. Flashing numbers. Numbers that represent confirmed cases and deaths. But mere numbers all the same. 10 million. 15 million...a sigh of despair. Almost forced at this point. Abstraction. That is how we deal with others' suffering. Imagine if we were to feel the pain of every tragedy we come across. We'd be crumbled to dust with the weight of negativity in our minds. But we don't. We stay emotionally detached unless the suffering comes knocking on our own doors. 
Four months of indoors. Not that I minded much. The only longing was to meet the one who wasn't with me. A day came when I could, but for a short time. There came the rush of joy in reunion, leaving behind the want for more. It was a rekindling of the longing that I hadn't realized had subsided over the months. The longer the wait, the more abstract the longing becomes. One gets used to the routine with time. One gets used to the change. No wonder they say that time heals. 
Abstraction. It explains how doctors deal with suffering day after day. Or people of any profession that requires them to. But one can only apply it so much with the physical presence right before their eyes all the time. Unlike for me where deaths are mere numbers flashing on my phone screen. Of course, it's a grim feeling to see the numbers rise, but it doesn't trigger a shock anymore. It worries me and yet it really doesn't. Does this detachment make us inhuman? 
Maybe it is a part of being human. Necessary, even, to help us move on. Another day ends and I lay sleepless late in the night. Funny how sleep hangs heavy on my eyelids only to evade me the moment I hit the bed. I shift my position and end up staring at my mom sleeping next to me. She twitches in her sleep. I become a little worried. I hope she's okay. An overwhelming feeling of love engulfs me all of a sudden. I want to hug her, but that would probably startle her.  
A whole day of being around her at home and it is only at night that this feeling overcomes me. Is this also abstraction? Taking someone or something for granted? To know and understand what we have but not appreciate it enough? 
Our pandemic is still running amock on the streets. Having finished The Plague by Albert Camus, I am left with a feeling of melancholy. The town of Oran has overcome their plague, we are still stuck with ours. We too will survive by trying to stay emotionally detached. For some of us, it's easier than others. Wherever we may stand, however, there's no choice but to hold on. 
We'll get through.

From a Virtual Recluse

src: vecteezy


Dear Social Media,
I got to know about you at a pretty young age. I'd sit next to my sister and read her chats in Yahoo Messenger. It was entertaining even though I didn't always understand her conversations. I was ten when she made an account for me on Orkut. I don't remember if I was particularly excited about it; none of my friends really knew about Orkut then. But I would still log into my account and embellish my profile occasionally. 
I changed my profile picture whenever someone took a decent photo of me, which wasn't often, by the way. I posted plenty of pictures after each trip. I'd watch the count of likes and compare them with my friends'. According to my scale, below a hundred for a profile pic was embarrassing. Thankfully, I managed to cross that mark most of the time. 
Each of those likes and comments gave me a special sense of validation. I'd know it was time to post something new when the numbers begin to fall. And the circle continues.
But I wasn't out there as much as I wished to be. I wanted to be active in your space, to post witty remarks about my daily activities, or more of the photos that were rotting away in my desktop folders. But I couldn't. I told myself that I'd start once I reached college. Surely, I would have a lot of things happening at the time, and I'd be prompted to make my online presence known.
So college came by, and your new popular space turned out to be Instagram. I joined it. And guess what? I did have things to post about, but once again, I stopped myself. And I couldn't tell why. Maybe I could but I didn't want to admit it. That maybe you intimidated me? You'd make me realize that no one really cared about my presence at your place? That I'd look like an uninvited guest that made no difference?
I used to enjoy being with you, back when the fun conversations I had with my friends was all you were about. When did you start poking at my self worth? When did my image in your world start to matter? Or was it the other way round? That you mattered so little to me that I refused to give you any importance?  I'd like to believe the latter. 
I remember waking up to a flood of notifications from you and feeling elated. You'd give me something to look forward to. You'd give me something to obsess over and spend hours on. I had my own territory in you but it never felt established enough. While I wanted to be present, I didn't want to share my life with you. Maybe I didn't need to fight that.
I thought I became indifferent to you, but I was wrong. You did matter. I desperately needed you to keep my social circle alive. Just like in the real world, however, here too I remained reclusive and a silent spectator most of the time. It suits me well, I think.  
You may mean different things to different people. But mostly, you'll remain the glue that keeps connections together. It's something I'm glad about. But I ask you this, to remind your tenants that you are not a ground to measure their worth with. 
I hope that clears the fog between us. I don't detest you. You bring the world together in one space and we need that now more than ever. Thanks for helping me keep up with the world.
With a little love and a lot of gratitude,A Virtual Recluse.

The Day of the Lasts

It was the day of many lasts. I wanted it to be special, something for all of us to look back and smile about. I wanted us to give each other the tightest of hugs and take the best of photos. So when I went up to that podium to give my farewell speech, I was all set for the audience to start tearing up. I stood there before my batchmates in that moment, waiting for the commotion to die down. Waiting and waiting some more. Until it was awkward to wait any longer and I started speaking amidst the noise anyway.

There was the moment I was longing for, when it was finally supposed to sink in that school was over. The commotion never died down, my 'magical moment' was a flop. What followed was a couple more speeches, a video for the sake of nostalgia, and a little bit of this and that for entertainment. This day turned out to be just another occasion for dressing up and sticking to that friend with a camera.
But that day was the beginning of a turning point, one that I was really looking forward to. It was the beginning of adulthood. A fresh start away from home to start living a bit on my own terms. A fresh start to be taken seriously (finally!) and to holding responsibilities. A fresh start to figuring myself out a little more. 
Four years down the lane as the college comes to a close, I find myself yet again at the same place. The next turning point. Only, this time, there was no farewell day to mark the turning. Our day of the lasts had gone by without our notice. Who would've thought that a pandemic would break loose and shut us in our homes? 
At a certain point, the introvert in me was glad to avoid a farewell. There wouldn't be any obligations for pretence now. But I can't lie about wishing we still knew when our last days were. Maybe we would've done something special, after all. Maybe it would've been the best days of our lives.
But years ahead from now, we have much to look back and smile about still. We'll remember idling away in the mini canteen with a milkshake and a plate of noodles. We'll remember failing miserably in our attempts for a mass bunk. We'll remember being sprawled in the lobby introspecting over our lives during fests.  We'll remember the numerous impromptu trips to the nearest restaurants. And we'll remember huddling in a hostel room to laugh away at nothings.
College didn't turn out as I'd expected it to. Maybe I was expecting a bit too much. I'd imagined emerging as a different person after these four years. A magical metamorphosis that my surroundings were supposed to handle. But I've realized that I haven't changed much, but only understood better what I've always been. I've also realized that I cannot expect the world to push me ahead. That the thrust has to come from me. 
At this point, I feel much like I did four years ago. Once again excited and looking forward to the next phase of my life. But the time to come is more uncertain than ever before. It's nothing like we'd imagined it to be. But hey, once we get through it all, whenever that might be, we will pass on this story to the generations to come. We will remember the days we have lost and they will still be special. We will cherish them even more and be the reminder to the world that what we have right now is precious. For, we never know when the day of the lasts would be. 
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Joining #WordlessWednesday hosted by Esha M Dutta and Natasha Sinha

The Cheeseburst Arranged Marriage - A Review

Growing up, I always told myself that I wouldn't agree for an arranged marriage. The thought of spending your life with a complete stranger was simply revolting. But times have changed and today's manner of arranged marriage has become more acceptable to me now. Matrimonial sites are nothing but a family-approved-tinder, after all. So when I stumbled upon The Cheeseburst Arranged Marriage in the Blogchatter E-Book library , I was drawn to it. 
This book is the story of 24-year-old Ira falling in love with the man she was arranged to marry. Right from the beginning when she nods her way nonchalantly into this life-long commitment, she doesn't realize what she's signing up for. It all begins with a hurried journey back home during Diwali. Ira had planned for a relaxing 3-day vacation at home. But what she hadn't planned for was to accept a marriage proposal and get engaged by the end of it. Following a flurry of three days, she returns to work with sweets and the announcement of her engagement. And then it sunk in. It was official. She had a fiance. What now?
Ira narrates how she lets this stranger into her life who is supposed to be the most important person to her. It is no different from any blooming love story as the two of them take steady steps ahead in their relationship. Much as her fiance, Manav, seems confident and at ease with the whole situation, Ira struggles to find her space of comfort. Her mind battles between the rights and wrongs in this odd position, where you begin to date the person you've already agreed to marry. It is that awkward phase of in-between where you know the result but go through the steps anyway.
But when was it okay to open up or let the guard down? What was the right time to make the first move? How long before they close the space between them? While these questions make their rounds in the couple's thoughts, their romance makes progress thanks to Manav's cheesy lines. Mr.Cheeseburst, as she christened him on their first meeting, made sure that Ira was showered with all the love she deserved. 
Pretty much in a filmy style, the story continues till the day of their wedding. The day when it is finalized and the happily-ever-after begins. To me, reading this story was like listening to an excited friend narrate their fond memories. I found myself reacting with oohs, aahs, and chuckles much like I would in a carefree conversation. The language is simple and pleasant while the narration has a good flow. I’d say this is perfect for a quick and fun read.  
So here’s a cute love story for you, of a couple posed with the challenge of discovering one another before starting their lives together. 


Book Author
Prisha Lalwani, also known by her online persona - "Mummasaurus", is a mother of #twinadoes - Chirag and Chitransh. Prisha is a former Counseling Psychologist & HR professional, and is a familiar name in the content and blogging world for about 6 years. She started her blog about 3.5 years ago and writes about Parenting, lifestyle and health, all with a dash of quirk and humour. She has recently co-authored two books and plans to continue venturing into writing books in the time to come.
Download The Cheeseburst Arranged Marriage by Prisha Lalwani
P.S - My ebook 'An Ode to the Self' is also available for free download  here

My Favourite Feelings

src: vhvrs


Have you ever wanted to get on a random train and go wherever it takes you? 
Sitting inside the car at the parking lot, I was playing with an idea in my head. Mom was going to take a while, and it wasn't everyday that I got the car for myself back then. Oh what the hell, this may be my only chance. So thinking, I pulled the car out of the parking space and drove away from the building. Out in the road, I took every turning that seemed to have lesser traffic, no destination in mind. With the music in high volume, I was singing with joy, speeding my way ahead. Over a bridge I rode, then another, and yet another one, all along with this new sense of power for being the one in control. This was what freedom felt like. This was pure bliss. Until a khaki-sleeved hand blocked the way a few metres before me...I was tagged recently by Shweta to write a post on my ten favourite feelings. So here we are, beginning with that feeling of freedom I get every time I'm out driving on my own. I discovered the love for it that day when I drove away instead of waiting for my mom at the parking lot. The plan to get back on time didn't work, sadly. Not to mention that I ended up getting a speeding ticket too. But that first free drive was amazing, and it will remain so. 
I've always wanted to be good at some sport. The closest I could get were my past karate tournaments. There's this incredible feeling you get when you taste victory. That time where you're in the fighting ring and you only need one more point to win. Your opponent is calculating the next move. You're focusing on defence, waiting for them to strike. And they do, and in a split second you counter strike and bring them down. The whistle blows and the referee pulls up your arm as you pant in complete exhaustion. Never mind that the bar in this match wasn't too high, it was a victory all the same. And it felt great.
It is probably the same with any accomplishment. To wait nervously in your formals outside the interview room as they call out the names of the selected candidates. There's the moment when they call your very name and you feel the relief and happiness wash over you. And whether or not you make the cut, there's the warmth of a hug from a loved one that makes you feel better nevertheless.
There are the genuine compliments that give you the validation you crave for, especially precious if they come from someone you look up to. And the times when someone approaches you in need, because it feels good to be needed . It gives you this feeling of purpose, an assurance that you are of use to someone out there.
And then there're the times when you get to happy dance. That peculiar joy in loosening up and dancing to your heart's content, of your own free will, and away from the judgements for not knowing good moves. And of course, that feeling of peace when you breathe in the petrichor during the rains. Maybe even get drenched in the showers if your health allows it.
And soon after, snuggle under the blanket and fall asleep reading a book or watching a nice movie. The bed and pillows have a way of being extra comfy when the weather is just right. If not all of these feelings, there's the all-time favourite of writing, the bliss of putting thoughts into words, to embellish the mundane.
There we have it, my ten favourite feelings that I could think of. Do you find yours among mine?...


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Heroes of Kindness - A Review

It's been a while since a virus has brought humankind to its knees. Our thoughts have evolved from concern and bewilderment to despair. And yet we've tried to look at the bright side and revel in nature's recovery. As for me, I revelled in finding uplifting news on acts of humanity during these dire times. But the golden time was short-lived. The dark side of humans found its way back to the news pretty soon. And I found myself drowning in despair. 
But here's someone set out to tell anyone who would listen that the world is not a bad place. How could it be, when he holds the proof to the immense kindness we humans are capable of? True, there may be enough of negativity out there to leave us with little hope, but there is also much positivity that goes unnoticed. 
In his very own words, "Why hold onto burning coal when you have diamonds around you?"
So, what does it take to be kind?
Back when I was going through something, I remember when someone came over and hugged me despite not knowing why I was upset. I had burst into tears the very moment. Sometimes all it takes is a small gesture to make a life better. So was the case when Howie Dittman went to the Pride Parade to offer free hugs, a gesture that prompted many a person from the LGBTQ community to open up to him. A gesture that prompted families to reassess their harsh reactions to their children for being different. 
And so was the case with Glen Oliver when he unknowingly saved a man's life by buying him a cup of coffee. Or even with the women who delivered anonymous cakes to the ones who'd suffered a loss. It doesn't take much to be kind. Imagine the power you and I hold to change people's lives.
We'd think that we would help, after all, given a circumstance. But how many of us would go out of our way to simply bring a smile to a stranger's face? Like Aleem Choudhary did when he wrote replies to over 400 children's letters to Santa. Or when 18-year-old Dalton drove 360 km to a cancer patient to deliver his favourite pizza. Or when Kazi Mannan risked his business to feed the poor. It's amazing to see to what extent one can go simply to make lives easier for another.
What's even more heartwarming is to see ill deeds being reciprocated with kindness. A beggar thief being offered food instead of being turned in to the police, a politician helping out a man who racially targetted him, and so much more. 
Coming back to the present time where we're kneeled down before a virus, there has been much suffering in the times of lockdown. But the kind hearts continue to reach out to the underprivileged. They continue to selflessly do what they can to help their fellow beings lead better lives. All of these heartening stories come together in Heroes of Kindness. There is much in these tales to leave us in awe, well up our eyes, and make us smile.
I've understood that most of our privileged lives have enough resources to make a difference, however small. Here's to all those heroes of kindness who keep humanity thriving. And here's to Dr.Roshan for telling us their stories in a beautiful way. Reading each one of them was an enriching experience. I must say, though, that towards the end the stories seem rushed when grouped together. I would've liked to read them one after the other slowly, the same way the previous ones were unravelled with a gripping narration. 
But this compilation succeeds gloriously in sending out its message. So any time in the future when I too succeed in making a difference in someone's life, I will owe it to you, Dr.Roshan. I will owe it to this book that keeps me inspired.


Book Author
Doctor Roshan Radhakrishnan wears many masks to make people forget their worries. Professionally, he works as an anaesthesiologist in Kerala to relieve pain and suffering. As a blogger, he achieves the same with his words, replacing the mask of an anaesthesiologist with that of a writer. You can find him online on Twitter , Instagram , Facebook or most likely, at his blog Godyears .
Download Heroes of Kindness by Dr.Roshan Radhakrishnan  here
P.S - My ebook 'An Ode to the Self' is also available for free download  here

Musings from Autumn Shadows

src: flyclipart

"We want every action of ours to have a meaning and purpose. We want the universe to be meaningful to us.  But the unmitigated truth is that there is no such meaning, no purpose in the universe." - Tomichan Matheikal, Autumn Shadows: Memoir
Dreaming about what purpose I hold in this universe used to be a favourite pastime for me. I would imagine myself out there in action, doing my bit of duty to this world I was born into. Except that I didn't know what that duty was. I always assumed I'd know it when I grew up. But as years went by and thoughts were recycled, it only seemed clearer that everything around me was unclear. There weren't any 'signs' directing me to my roads of meant-to-be. Because there was no such thing.When Autumn Shadows presented those words to me, I fell in love with them. Wouldn't it seem like the world would lose its lustre once we know the truth? Once we know that it has no meaning? But wait, look at the beauty we create out of a meaningless existence. Look at the songs of love, the feelings of joy, the words of magic that make it all worth it. There is beauty in curiosity and the endless quest for the ultimate answer. There is beauty in mystery.
And maybe there is no such thing as destiny. It could be "nothing more than a human invention to justify personal weaknesses and failures", as the book said at a point. But don't we still like to romanticize our lives with it? Maybe deep down we all believe it's a sham. But it doesn't matter. What good will our lives be if we treat it with the insignificance it really stands for?    
Walking through the author's life, I was eager to learn his life lessons. Feeling lost among the people in his reality, he often found himself in characters of books. For years, he'd lived on in a seminary without feeling connected to it. It took quite a while for him to realize that he couldn't bond with the almighty.
I think it draws a parallel with many of our lives today - of the race we're always running without a second thought. How many of us can connect to the things we do? How many of us blindly follow our duties without completely indulging in them? Not putting our heart and soul into it, like they say? 
In his own career as a teacher, he had transitioned from being a listless professor to a favourite among the students with time. They were different environments to speak of, but I believe he found that connection eventually. 
But of all the things that Autumn Shadows speaks of, what I could connect with the most was his outlook on God. I have often shied away from professing my lack of belief, for fear of not being accepted. But it is not the fact about being a non-believer that I related with. It is the urge to let others know that this fact does not change who we are.
He narrates his struggle with the family once he decides to part with the church. He puts his foot down on it, to not associate with matters of the divine. I admire that resolve. As the story progresses, you realize how he is much like any other person trying to reform themselves, but just not in the name of god.
If you're a believer and I am not, it doesn't make me arrogant or narrow-sighted. It doesn't mean that I have no conscience or no ability to be kind or forgiving or any of the good traits you can think of. You and I are not that different. We think the same thoughts, have the same hopes of a better world, and wish the same thing about fate being kind to us. What is prayer but an intense thought channelled towards a point? It's just that you believe that a supreme power may listen to your thoughts while we don't believe so.
If these thoughts seem shallow, that view is what I'm trying to change. Because it is possible to be spiritual without having a relationship with God or a religion. But then again, spirituality is not in question here. It is just to convey that God plays no role in our lives, and that doesn't make us a bad person. 
As the story comes to a close, the author talks about his conversations with Jesus. This is where he admits to knowing that his 'Jesus' is nothing but his own self. It is interesting how he narrates it, sort of in a way that makes sense to anybody in the spectrum of belief. It is here where I saw that no matter where our beliefs stand, we're one and the same. It is all but a matter of perspective.
This has been one of those books that made me pause and ponder, as is the case with most of Tomichan Matheikal sir's writings . Any book we read reflects on us differently as we associate with it personally. And so, this is what Autumn Shadows has been to me. A thought-provoking read. 

You can get the ebook here ...
P.S: My own E-Book 'An Ode to the Self' is available for free download at Blogchatter's website here .  

Milestones that Matter

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Hands joined and eyes closed, I stood nervously behind the podium. The crowd before me had parted from their seats respectfully. They stood waiting for a holy prayer to commence the auspicious ceremony. Poor them. They definitely weren't ready for the cacophony that was coming. My voice may just have sucked the auspiciousness out of the ceremony.Well, that is what happens when you force someone to do something they're not good at. From off stage, a singer-aunty who sat beside me told me that I sang well. I smiled, searching for the pity in her eyes. Oh, I knew she was trying to be kind. Maybe there was a small part of me wishing she were telling the truth. But that hope was crushed the very next day at school. As ill-luck would have it, someone from my class had been present at the function. I was greeted with a bout of mocking laughter as I entered the classroom. Darn it. I was counting on having only strangers hearing my discordant voice.
Singing has never been my thing. Although, sure, I did put on a shawl on my head, pick up a shampoo bottle and have my own imaginary Hannah Montana concerts once. In fact, I've also performed planned and practised concerts with a bunch of my enthusiastic friends during the games period. We were eight, by the way. But even then, I knew that I had to be a background singer for our little concert to be presentable. 
So years later, after a painful last-minute prayer recitation in an office ceremony, I could tell that the aunty was lying to me. I could tell because I knew my limitations. But I wonder how many of the praises I've received till now were out of pity. How many of them were out of sheer courtesy? How many compliments were a cover to the bitter truth like that of the aunty's? It's difficult to tell the chaff from the grain. To tell the truth from the pretence.
Over the years of my writing, I've had both the chaff and the grain showered on me. I've let my intuition decide which is which. It's possible that they weren't always right. But I've allowed myself to accept some of them with pride. Like when someone texts me about a writing of mine that has moved them. Like when my mom tells me that my style has improved. Like when I roll my way back to Corinne's community after a long blogging hiatus. I consider each of them a milestone. 
A week ago, this dear blog found its way to Feedspot's list of Top 100 Indian Lifestyle Blogs . Wandering Wows stands in glory at the 22nd position. Yet another milestone that had me dancing in my room for a few minutes. Thankyou for the lift, Feedspot. You gave me something to smile about. 
Today, though I pat myself on the back for the accolades, I still struggle to pick out the genuine comments. Constructive criticism is much needed but difficult to find. (Unless, of course, you're a celebrity in twitter.) You cannot grow with false praises. You cannot grow with the truth untold. Honesty is something every artist looks out for. It may be hard to take sometimes, but it is a must to be taken. 
I would never venture to sing on stage thanks to the friends who laughed at me that day. It was a confirmation to the truth that I already knew, that it wasn't my cup of tea. Though I admit that I haven't always taken criticism well, I know that they have helped me. And I know that I need them. Stay sceptical of the praises and pay attention to the critics, I'd say. 
But in the end, your best assessment is done by yourself. You can best know where you stand and what you need to do. All else are mere guidance you can choose to opt.
So while I reach milestones in writing, I'm still going to pick that shampoo bottle up to sing away in my mono concert. My voice can survive in the privacy of my room if not the stage. I don't need to let it go. I'll instead use my awful singing to celebrate my writing. 
Now, there's an acknowledgement of two things in one go. I know where I stand. 
I know when I've reached a dead-end or a milestone that matters...

On Mothers and Chores

src: wikiclipart

It's close to midnight. My mom slumps down on the bed, visibly exhausted. I'm lying down next to her, massaging my eyes after having spent my whole day before the laptop. I'm still wide awake, sleep eluding me yet again. My mom is moments away from a deep slumber, but a few words escape her before she dozes off. Something about the lockdown making little difference to stay-at-home moms.It has always been inside me, but I just chose to ignore it to suit my convenience. The guilt. The guilt of not doing enough. In the recent years, I was this 'hard-working student' who mostly had things to study and assignments to work on. My mom rarely called me for help when she found me working. She would peep into my room and then silently walk away to continue with the chores alone. And I would let it be. I would reason with my guilt, convince it that if it weren't for the workload, I would've joined her. I'd then satisfy myself with the occasional little errands I ran. 
But then the college closed down, all work got suspended, and I became free. And yet again I found myself engaging in things of my own liking. I busied myself with activities of my own rather than resorting to doing chores. It was proof that it wasn't about the time I had with me, it was about the priorities. It always is, isn't it? So the guilt finally established its dominion and took my bum off the bed. I made sure never to refuse mom's calls no matter how important my work was.
But I knew that it still wasn't enough. My girl-friends and I had grown up vowing to only marry men who'd share the housework. So much for patriarchy. We'd be no less than hypocrites if we ourselves reclined in our beds while our moms toiled in the kitchen. It wasn't just about the men. Every able member of the family was responsible for their home and the work that came with it. 
And so, the guilt-ridden mind had further forced me to wash dishes in the sink, fold piles of clothes, and sweep the dusty floor over and over. Sometimes mom thanks me but I know she really shouldn't. Running the house is a family's group project, we're in this together. It's just that since moms voluntarily take up the work, we free-riders choose to relax. It shouldn't be her job to ask for help, it should rather be our duty to contribute.
My dad and I are assigned tasks now and then. But our fulfilling the tasks with a guilty conscience isn't enough. My voluntary dish-washing routine isn't enough. None of what we do is enough to reach up to what the mothers do for us. Last mother's day I wanted to convey that moms need to step out of their mother's shoes . Their identity is more than being a mother.  But how are they to do that when they continue to carry the weight of the home? 
The other day, I'd read from a fellow blogger, Balaka , of how the lockdown is bringing division of labour to households. It shouldn't take a lockdown for that to happen. Here at home, I can claim that I try.  But I still find more time in my hands than in mom's. I still feel my guilt crawling back. I don't know if it will ever be enough, but dear you, let's try and take up our responsibilities more. Let's please try and do our part in this family project and not let the burden fall on the mothers alone. 
For, it really isn't their duty. It is ours.
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Corona Chronicles - The Face of Humanity

src: Dreamstime
The colleges are shut down. Families are locked in. Streets are swept free of traffic. Hugs are more threatening than soothing. Social media has more tasks than Bigg Boss. Patience is being tested in households rather than traffic jams. Sanitizers have become more valuable than oil.


Somewhere amid the Whatsapp forwards, we've stumbled upon this period being labelled a 'necessary evil'. It having reduced the carbon footprint, brought in laws to improve hygiene, freed the wilderness from their hideouts, and even given a much-needed break to several busy bees from their hectic work-life.

But none of these was the reason behind the tinge of relief in my mind.

If you remember it, life wasn't all rainbows and unicorns before the nation went into lockdown. We lived in a calm amidst the chaos. Or maybe the calm was an illusion. For, the normal we knew had our phones flashing with grim stories every other day. Minors were raped, students were thrashed, minorities attacked and what not. 72 years had passed since Independence and partition. Yet, communal violence had found its way back to the country.

Over a span of four months, an outrageous act passed by the parliament had brought a significant population out on the streets. Protests, clashes, and lathi charges had become words of daily usage. The photos floated in media resembled nothing short of war-torn sites.

Gone were the days when our worry was merely circled around unemployment, recession, or women's safety. We worried now of a violent and barbaric society. Perhaps it is best not to delve deeper into the incidents bygone.

Today, that time feels like a trauma of the near past we got a temporary respite from. Our focus has shifted to dealing with a contagious virus by staying indoors. This new normal was manageable. It was much unlike the pre-pandemic days.

From the bread for the daily wagers to the transport of essentials, we listened to the help being given to the needy every day. We heard of heroes who went out of their way to offer a hand to the sick. We heard of donations offered by people from every walk of life. Even social media was circulating words of love and support.

It sort of felt unreal to not read about crimes and atrocities. But it was a welcome change. A small relief to the mind though in a time of illness. And so, in the comfort of my bed, things seemed better, ironical as that may sound given the circumstance. But alas, the respite was only short-lived.

For, soon enough, grim reports had made their comeback.

In this war against the virus, the soldiers in the forefront we owe our lives to, the very health workers, have been under attack. A religious gathering has caused communal hatred to return, with the victimized community even being denied treatment in certain hospitals. Further on, an incident of lynching has raised a political blame-game. And meanwhile, arrests relating to the pre-lockdown protests continue to take place, raising several questions.

I was wrong. A lockdown amid a pandemic was no reason for negativity to rest. Neither is it a time for us to keep our vigil down. It's funny how things are different now, and yet the same in many ways.

We may not be able to join forces against the evil in these times. But if nothing else, this time has revealed many faces of kindness. Much of which was clouded by the ill-willed thus far.

While we survive this pandemic, and before we return to that frenzy of a constant fight against the pitfalls of the system, I wish to laud and celebrate the goodwill that still lives.

This is to all the people who've stepped out to help and support their fellow beings, be it in the smallest of ways. We need you. We need you desperately in this world where hatred and vengeance are making a firm stance. We need you to join forces with the passion and outrage that drives us otherwise.

We need you because you are the only hope to a better world.

We're living in the pandemic phase. We cannot resort to the ways of the past immediately, neither can we continue in the present ways for long. We're in a state of limbo. So we wait.

And while we wait, let's keep a look out for humanity, lest it dies in negligence.
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