It’s been a year. Though the first 7–8 months of blogging were difficult, defining, and yet gratifying, very much like nurturing your own child, the last four months have suffered distraction and distance. In fact, even right now I feel like the way Malala Yousafzai (well-known author of the book ‘I am Malala’) felt on her twelfth birthday, which she spent in Haripur. She was upset and certainly missed a cake, a couple of companions and a celebration. Yet she made a wish and so did I.
Strange and at times, surreal is how I can describe my past few months. Most of you might prefer to concede to having a similar experience. While we were busy enacting our so-called remarkable roles in the absurd theatre of life, a virus ( coronavirus) invaded our domain. It not only challenged our potential but exposed our petulance. It intimidated our very existence as ‘social beings’. Almost overnight, our realities got suspended. Each one was coerced into confining himself in a self-created cocoon. Eventually, the vacuum started getting the better of us and the human world was numbed into nothingness.
Suddenly, my early mornings were no longer rushed and clock-coordinated. Initially, it appeared alluring but soon enough it was replaced by the tedium of added household chores. The discipline of a school-office-work bound routine was losing momentum. However, the institutions were trying hard to keep going by optimizing their virtual presence and creating an activity world bereft of interaction and intimacy. My husband, consciously, and my daughter, reluctantly, were slipping into the ‘new normal’ as I stood gazing. Involved yet often collapsing into oblivion, not letting the past go while being tugged into an inconceivable future.
That which limited the humans (now very much like the caged tiger in the poem ‘A Tiger in the Zoo’ by Leslie Norris), liberated nature and its other species. With almost no human intervention in air, land, and water, nature began to heal and regenerate itself. At least that’s what we surmised from its manifestations. My scanty sky with cottony clouds seemed to be straight out of my daughter’s drawing book. Pastel blue, beautifully bold, and a visual delight. The green and the auburn reinstated their hues as well. Birds and squirrels became regular visitors to my humble hanging porch. We decided to make the most of this acquaintance by mutually entertaining each other. Of course, I was the gainer. For a wealth of their tricks and tracks, I gave them a meager cut of…