Since the last few years we have all gotten in the habit of creating acronyms that are either rhyming or have a meaning when expanded and even otherwise. This was the reason why I chose to title this piece the way I did.
Until January 2020, the world was abuzz with things happening, old and new, askew. And then came the Corona Virus or Covid-19 – refer to it as it suits you. For a lot of us, it was a Stop Virus which brought our lives to a standstill stopping us from doing everything we were in the habit of doing and compelling us to think about things that we had so far been taking for granted. The first and may be the most important lesson I learnt was that it’s best for humans to stay a little apart for families and friendships to survive. Too much closeness, like the one forced upon us at the moment, shakes many of our false beliefs about people and their habits, yes, also their behavior which can get downright nasty when they’re displeased about not being the ‘centre of the universe’.
The month flew along with the unfulfilled resolutions that are made every year and we entered February like a moth eating away the same plant on which it survives. We started hearing about a certain epidemic that had hit certain corners of the world. Till then it was something that was happening to the other. We realized the muck we had fallen into only in March; you might have realized it earlier, it’s okay, you win. But what, I do not know! One evening when we were already too scared to venture around wondering what if the dreaded thing attacked us too, our dear Prime Minister addressed the nation. We finished our daily chores and gathered around the television like in the 80’s and 90’s for Ramayan, Mahabharat, Chitrahaar and Buniyaad. Millennials still cannot fathom that there was a time when Doordarshan was the primary entertainment provider. But we will get at that later. Coming back to the PM’s address to the nation – He came, we saw, he conquered! 21 days ‘Lockdown’ in the entire country!! Many of us were happy then, feeling glad not be forced to wake up every morning and slog throughout the day in our cramped workstations. Those aren’t even full desks now; just a piece of wood on the top and small drawers in the side that more often than not aren’t even big enough to fit our handbags!
I do tend to get distracted, don’t I? We started off the said lockdown on a good note. Everybody was happy to get an opportunity to spend some quality time with their families squatting on cushy sofa seats more than half the day – remote in one hand and mobile phone in the other. I come from a privileged background as you can clearly see. We have a sofa, a television set, a functioning remote, a smartphone with internet connection, space to place all these things and ourselves on and electricity connection to keep these objects functioning. What happened to that invisible population that built our homes, repaired our gadgets, cleaned our houses, washed and drove our vehicles, ironed our clothes, et cetera was not our concern, it never had been. They vanished in thin air until a few days later, images of men, women and children walking many a times barefoot on highways with potlis on their head, started circulating on media platforms. These potlis held all their possessions – their security for the future – having lost the present time and again. The lockdown defied Darwin’s theory of ‘survival of the fittest’. It was rather all about the ‘survival of the richest’. The cakes you baked, the kachoris you fried, the pastas and pizzas and shakes and soups were your world. The other half of the same world was perishing in hunger, thirst and lack of sanitation. I am not even getting into the squalor and shit and the sob story it entails.
We moved on though. It still wasn’t happening to us. We were asked to clank thalis, we did. We clapped. We lit diyas and candles. We covered ourselves in masks and gloves and duppattas and gamchhas trying our best to hide ourselves, in an attempt to survive. But it gradually started hitting us too. Cash started falling short. How much unaccounted money could we have hoarded any which ways? The PM’s frequent addresses, though intended for our benefit, only worsened our worst fears, we supported him though. The lockdown continued. We lived without our means to living. The lockdown which was initially a medium employed by the state to buy time to gather resources and be prepared for the worst case scenario, gradually turned into the only solution our leaders had for solving this problem. It was bound to fail. Humans tend to get bored of anything that lasts too long. Even this ‘Stay Home, Stay Safe’ campaign had a life of its own which slowly began to ebb. We had to move out. We had to work. We needed the money as going back to the good old barter system days was not really a feasible option now.
While we were thinking what to do, moving listlessly, turning with anxiety on our sofa, migrants who had built cities and wonders (literally!) were now hopping on to trains that took them far away to lands which had once been home. They had nothing to lose and nothing to gain. Whoever thought sending them back was a solution, did not put one thought into the reasons why these people had been forced to move out in the first place. They continue to be sent back. They want it. Because they have nothing better to want. Wishes, dreams and desires are not for the poor.
In the meanwhile, back in the cities even the middle class started losing their patience and jobs. For the patience bit, the opening of liquor shops came as a respite. It was a two edged sword for it brought in lots and lots of money into the state coffers. The government could easily charge a 1000 per cent tax and one would still find people thronging around liquor shops! But what happened as a side effect was that this only enhanced the resentment in a section of the population. The women of the household who had been burdened more than twice with work were the first ones to complain. Patriarchy and misogyny that have been prevalent since a long time only got brazened. Men drinking alcohol, doing video chats, watching television all day or playing video games or just lying down like a log was not an uncommon sight. These same men gave the excuse of not having enough time and being tired by office work whenever asked to help in the house earlier. They were excused then. The same benefit of doubt could however not be extended anymore. Any ways, from a nation whose major section of the population was still offended by the movie Thappad giving a ‘wrong’ message because who likes their women having a voice, what more could one expect. So, coming back to where we were. The liquor shops and the uncontrolled crowd in the lines apparently was not a fear for the spread of the virus but office spaces, factories, other shops, and maids were. The governmental policies were a lesson in hypocrisy.
Talking of hypocrisy, we could fly planes to bring our people back but we had to charge railway fares from our poor migrants. We did not miss the point that humanitarian gestures which could be extended to even citizens of other nations could not find place for a certain section of our population. We could share medicines but a plate of rice, dal and sabzi was often nowhere in sight. These were other lessons that I learnt. And about the notifications that were released every other day, the less said the better. People in the system seem to have become adept at the art of vague writing so as and when the need arose, they could twist their own words and find a brand new interpretation!
From feeling united to feeling tired at this monotonous ‘unity’ in which we are all failing together, we have come a full circle. Wait, someone’s ringing the bell. Must be Pinki, my maid. She does not forget to come and collect her ‘salary’. That’s the only time I get to see her these days. We have been requested to not remove people from their jobs, continue to pay salaries but refrain from opening offices and going to work. Schools aren’t going to take fees but have to disburse salaries to their staff. You can’t sell but you pay. Common sense, it appears, just went down the drain while we were happily washing our hands hundred times a day!