For the nth time I walked up to the window and peered into the emptiness. There was nothing to see. Yet I would drag myself every so often to stare into the stillness of the night. The sepulchral silence is so eerie. Only the occasional movement of a police car or the bark of the street dog breaks it. A muscle in my jaw worked convulsively as the cold finality of death swept my mind like an arctic wind.
It is the 23rd day of internment—lockdown by day and curfew by night. For the last two months it’s been nothing but coronavirus that has held everyone in awe. I have lived through the horrors of prolonged curfews but the present crisis is totally different. Death seems to breathe down your neck even in the relative safety of home. The whole thing appears so unrealistic; yet, it is true. Like most people I vacillate between hope, despair and helplessness. The staggering statistics of lives claimed by corona and the frightening findings only make matters worse.
Death is a great leveller. It doesn’t differentiate between people. I sat in motionless silence as I thought of the trail of corpses left across the world. Sirens of police vehicles interrupted my train of thought. “Why don’t people stay put and follow medical advice?” I wondered. How many more lives would go before the magic bullet is developed to drop corona in its deadly tracks?
Time walks on crutches. Each day seems a xerox of the day before. In these desperate times, the smartphone is the only window to the outside world. But again there are problems, with traffic jams moving from the roads to the internet. Rather than allowing monotony to take over, I resolved to make the best of the situation. I turned to my modest library and pulled out a book I had long wanted to read but couldn’t. Nevil Shute’s novel, Trustee from the Toolroom, kept me occupied for a week. I had heard the story as a child when my father read it out to my mother, a reluctant listener.
The lockdown is continuing beyond the initial 21 days. The news is unnerving. A cold sick feeling developed in the pit of my stomach as the enormity of the situation sunk in. You are not alone in this crisis, I told myself. Only in the darkness can one see the stars. I tried to enliven the situation at home rather than giving into despair. We recalled family anecdotes, flipped through old albums and played traditional games. Surely adversity has its own comfort zone.
J S Ifthekhar
Email: jsifthekhar@gmail.com