Hope against hope

We entered a new blind as a bat, unable to figure out how the years would unfold over time. Everybody envisioned a big canvas. Dreamers like me dared to breathe fresh air after the dazzling fireworks on New Year’s day, as we watched the first sunrise in 2021. The idea of a ‘perfect’ year started unravelling very soon. I would think it would go away just like it sneaked in. But it’s been more than a year now since the Covid-19 outbreak. Everything has changed. My big canvas has shrunk.

One midnight, as I lay on my bed, I resolved to make a few changes to my life. Mediocrity can get tiring, I thought to myself. Now that I was promoted to Class 10, it was time for me to make a few changes to improve my normally average academic performance. I was going to be one of the top students in school. If I felt demotivated, I would picture myself holding aloft a certificate of proficiency.

The week school reopened in February; I asserted the new me.  I paid close attention to the teachers. I came back home and revised the day’s notes. This was new – I was normally Miss Procrastination. But everything seemed to be going over my head. That certificate of proficiency seemed somewhat far away. I needed to work harder. So I set my hobbies aside, gave up hanging out on social media or with my friends. After all, Class 10 was a milestone year.

And then all of a sudden in mid-March, the world came to a grinding halt. There were five reported cases in India around this time and the virus had not entered Shillong yet. While my classmates sanitised almost everything, I was not as paranoid. I thought the virus would be contained right before it was declared a global pandemic. Our school announced a  break the next week. Who would have thought that break would last an entire year? I assumed that we would return to normalcy by April. But in no time, chat groups were formed in class followed by similar messaging groups for different subjects. That’s when I realised this was not getting over any time soon.

To be honest, the break felt more like an early summer vacation. Yes, cases were increasing globally and the fear of the virus was rising as well. But I still believed Covid-19 could be contained. Within the four walls of my three-bedroom apartment, there was so much to do. Yet I spent the first two weeks endlessly scrolling through social media while vowing to be at the top of my class. Boredom did not get to me and every day appeared more interesting than the previous one. Nothing made me happier than the rumours of an extended break. This is also when I realised that the “workaholism” that had set in me was now slowly receding. In my defence, I’ve read somewhere that it takes almost three months to form a new habit. And offline and online schools were just so different. After being a couch potato for so many years, this sudden hustle seemed a bit tiresome to me. And just like that, I was breaking my pact. My friends and I started hanging out carelessly. Life seemed normal with hardly any cases in Shillong or even in the neighbouring states. Online school was seen as optional; I didn’t complete my work on time nor did I consider attending Zoom classes mandatory. My couch potato life took over, until one day I panicked. I was gaining weight.

So I started exercising hard. I would touch my back to feel how much I broke out in a sweat after working out. I would only call it a day if my clothes felt appropriately damp. And just like that April and May went by. I was extremely happy with the way things were—there were no cases, no school, exemptions from attending birthday parties. I was becoming quite the introvert. I had even forgotten I was a student. I would attend class to respond to the roll call, then go back to sleep. This cycle hasn’t stopped.

Then the total lockdown was declared and my mind was filled with images of all those who weren’t as privileged as me. I thought of those who lived on daily wages. How will they cope with the pandemic? How will they go back to their homes? What will their landowners say? How will they pay rent? The sudden lockdown posed a problem to so many people. I also learned about children who could not have access to online schooling. How will they study? I sympathised with the people infected with the virus as well as their family and friends.

I browsed the internet to know if a cure had been found for the virus. But watching or reading the news just increased my anxiety. The only thing we could do to help was to stay indoors. I did my part. There were times when I’d be so frustrated that the feeling of imprisonment would get the better of me. I would fight and bicker with my family. Everything, including their breathing patterns, annoyed me. How do people live in a joint family, I thought to myself.

And so as school work languished my hobbies took over. I’ve always liked to cook and that’s what e I did. But this time, I decided I would use my cooking skills for the greater good. I learnt a lot of new recipes, sharpened my skills, imagined I was a MasterChef contestant and finally made use of social media platforms to advertise my idea of delivering home-cooked food. From June to October, my sister and I ran a small business – I would cook and she would deliver the orders. It kept me going even when the pandemic took a toll on my mental health.

I know that nothing will be the same again. The last decade is now a thing of the past. Staying at home made me realise everybody’s ability to learn is different: a fish cannot fly and a bird cannot swim, but in the end, they’re all animals. This lockdown has made me wiser by taking away my most treasured belonging and, in turn, proving that health is the most valuable possession. At the same time, it presented many opportunities that compelled me to think outside the box. While it helped me in some ways it also left a few scars. At the end of it all, I have faith that this will be the last pandemic humanity witnesses.