Ruchira tells us about life during lockdown times. An exclusive for Different Truths.

Even as I write this, we enter the 44^th day of an agonized existence. Never since World War II have countries across the globe confronted such a deadly, formidable foe as the Coronavirus, which traverses the globe like a colossus.

In cities and towns, in hundreds of thousands of villages, hamlets and slums, in almost every lane, by-lane and alley, people remain cooped up inside their homes. Each individual is overpowered by boredom, melancholia and monotony. The insignificant number of human beings who have been kept out of the lockdown purview about their jobs like automatons, the curfew has virtually taken the wind out of their sails.

Each individual is overpowered by boredom, melancholia and monotony. The insignificant number of human beings who have been kept out of the lockdown purview about their jobs like automatons, the curfew has virtually taken the wind out of their sails.

For most men, the ambit of daily existence hardly stretches beyond shopping for groceries and or vegetables, trips to the bank and ATMs.The more privileged tech-savvy folks accomplish these tasks online. Life is comparatively easier for them.  Women, housewives and elderly matrons have a reason to be grouchy, as the onus of running their respective homes lies on their shoulders. Since the maids and cooks (part-time as well as in-house ones) have become an invisible species nowadays the ladies of the house must reluctantly undertake the tedious tasks of bartan-jhadu-pochha . Some smart ones cajole their spouses and children to lend a helping hand, lightening their burden in the process. Husbands become soft targets and mostly comply since they don’t want any storm brewing in the house.

Even otherwise normal life has been skewed up like never before. No parties, picnics, excursions, neighbourhood adda, nor kitty parties organised by local women residents. Young lovers are most likely missing their rendezvous; routines of health and fitness freaks are in a topsy turvy condition:  gyms are shut and jogging /morning walks are an absolute no-no. Locked beauty parlours and salons have left the beauty-conscious females peeved, as their hairdos and regular beauty regimens are in the doldrums. Markets, Malls, and eateries, big and small, are closed. You can’t even step out with buddies for a quick bite of something, to rejuvenate the taste buds. It is peak summer but the familiar ice cream stroller carts are nowhere to be seen. Day after day, you must perforce consume stereotyped ghar ka khana which, no matter how efficiently cooked, is dull and insipid vis–a–vis the commonly available commercial fare.

It is peak summer but the familiar ice cream stroller carts are nowhere to be seen. Day after day, you must perforce consume stereotyped ghar ka khana which, no matter how efficiently cooked, is dull and insipid vis–a–vis the commonly available commercial fare.

Most astonishingly, everyone appears to have lost the sense of time. The border between the days of the week is blurred. It is one endless dark stifling night followed by a long listless day. Euphoria about a new day dawning is overtaken by ennui, and a gnawing fear: when shall we be free?

There is always a silver lining even in the gloomy formidable of clouds. As far as living memory may be stretched, seldom have people spent so much time with their immediate families and kinsfolk. Reports of skirmishes, domestic violence notwithstanding, the overall experience appears to be enriching and refreshing. Anecdotes of people rediscovering talents traits and positive points of their family members are doing the rounds. Many have turned to their hobbies while the quarantine is underway. A friend of mine has resumed sketching and painting after decades. My sister-in-law, a trained vocalist has swept the dust off her taanpura and begun her riyaz with great gusto. Another singer cousin regales members of our extended family on WhatsApp with her lilting melodies. Likewise, reputed singers of diverse genres are conducting live /interactive programmes on social media, much to the delight of millions of their fans in other cities. Online movies are up for grabs. Footfalls on media service providers have spiked. Couch potatoes or otherwise, you may watch umpteen number of flicks each day at your convenience.

Lockdown taught me a few valuable lessons: rather than craving for things unavailable, make use of the available resources. I never knew that yellow mung daal and brinjals make a tasty combination.  In case meat and fish are scarce, soybean chunks in a rich, spicy, curd-based gravy fit the bill perfectly!

Online recipes are flying thick and fast; foodies are lapping them up and dishing up very many delectable items. Personally, I tried perfecting a few favourites namely chiwre bhaja (crispy spicy fried poha) doi potol  (spindle gourd in curd gravy) and such like. Lockdown taught me a few valuable lessons: rather than craving for things unavailable, make use of the available resources. I never knew that yellow mung daal and brinjals make a tasty combination.  In case meat and fish are scarce, soybean chunks in a rich, spicy, curd-based gravy fit the bill perfectly! Caution and prudence, thus helped me to slash our domestic expenditure substantially. The missing presswalla has taken the rigour out of ironing. In fact, we find it enjoyable. My basic knowledge of darning has come in handy; self and daughter repair our torn garments fairly well in the absence of our neighbourhood masterji. Taking a break from her romance with her mobile phone, the mademoiselle of the house is now earnestly taking in-house Bangla tuitions — a task she had abandoned years ago. Hope it will do her some good in future. As for me, I am trying to catch up with reading — my beloved pastime. Am halfway through Columbian Nobel laureate Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s sensational novel, Love in the Time of Cholera. Uncanny coincidence, isn’t it?

Photo from the Internet