The fan in my room is broken and Amma won't agree to get an electrician to fix it. If you are reading this in 2020, you know why. Yes, the virus. She says, as she dips her obsession over Marie into the tea- "We don't know who might have it. Let's not take chances" and she is only one of the many millions of people who think the same. I cannot blame her. Well, not entirely. A pandemic is no joke. It is not everyday that we wake up to all the members sitting together at the table for breakfast. My pre-pandemic memory is now getting hazy. I cannot remember the smell of books from the college library or what it feels like to drink a cup of tea from college tea Anna. I don’t remember the warmth of my friends’ hugs or what it feels like to be in the arms of my lover. I can’t remember the breeze that would hit my face as I sat at my favourite table in the cafe while cramming my brain with a few million college assignments. As of November 2020, we are well into the pandemic and have almost adjusted to the new normal. Over 6000 thoughts a day, and not one of them saw a pandemic coming. The emotions are extreme and there barely is anything negotiable. Covid-19 vaccines are still in the making and the centre is hopeful to release 400 to 500 million doses by 2021. Sure the centre has been hopeful about many things in the past. The number seems real but what do we know beyond the screens of our news channels? Hospitals are charging extra and lives are being given up. The death toll graph has been linear but Tamil Nadu and Pune hospitals among others show a steady decline. Most of the traveling has been paused. University is now online, the white boards are getting dusty and the teachers are now getting used to teaching into the tiny black hole on their systems.

Siblings are now working from home and that means lesser dark circles and better posture for them. There are more family dinners and Amma makes everyone’s favourite dishes in turns. The baking trays are out and when I think of this pandemic, I will smell banana bread and sanitizers. The hairbands are now not lost, and the pair of socks is intact. Appa will now look up from his daily newspaper more than usual while the reading glasses slip till the end of his nose until he pushes them up with all his might. Everybody’s room now is also a make-shift salon, factory for their newly found passion of tie-dying t-shirts, studio for the budding YouTubers. Now you know how to wear a shirt in five different ways.

If you are reading this post-pandemic, I hope you are able to go to your friends and give them extra long hugs. I hope you don’t let puppies pass by without petting them. I hope you are able to get on to your impromptu trips. I hope you stir the wine before you sip it. I hope Amma still enjoys her tea-time the same and has found another digestive biscuit obsession. My point here is, the light is not only at the end of the tunnel, the tunnel has some cracks, look for it. All the mental health pages on Instagram are rooting for you. Meme page admins are waking up to make you laugh. The tea is not cold yet... perhaps it is the warmth from my laptop; perhaps it is because the fan in my room is broken and Amma won’t get an electrician to fix it.∎

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