In these crazy times, my days are a mixture of extreme comedy and profound moments as my life runs on a lurching slow pace.
In my life B.C (Before Corona), my days have been a series of drop-offs and pickups. I had to make choices as to which activities/hobbies that my children would take up. I always had that sinking feeling, that irrespective of how hard I tried, there would always be a lost opportunity when I couldn’t get to all the extracurricular activities available.
I had to make choices for my children and the deep-seated fear of making the wrong one was always prevalent. For a brief moment in time, that feeling wasn’t there.
It all came back with vengeance as there was an explosion of virtual music classes, Gujarati classes, yoga classes and calligraphy classes, etc. Why the incessant need to fill time with ‘activities’?! I had to shut off my news and my friends on to WhatsApp urging me on to the next class. I wanted to go into my cave again with my family close to me. I love having the luxury of time.
Baby 3 is being potty trained amidst lockdown. It’s a disaster of yellow puddles and curious droppings. I figure we will never get an opportune chance like this one. It’s day 5 of lockdown, and we have progressed to him going into the weird squat before a tattletale blotting of his trousers begins. He isn’t as bright as I thought.
The girls have a schedule. The husband has gone all Rocky Balboa on their academic front and they have a strict timetable broken down in half-hour increments, with subjects ranging from Maths to English (of course!), and we can fit in lessons of chess, cooking and the free time also allows them to practise their piano more often.
I love having the luxury of time.
Initially, as the prospect of a lockdown became more real; in a bid to have more control of the fast unravelling of events and to get my mind off of the news, I felt the urge to clean my house. It’s been lovely having my house in neat compartments. I just needed to concentrate on the little joys of life.
My ritual of a morning jog, a cup of (cafetière!) coffee and a cookie that I refuse to share with anyone is a Godsend. I find myself jumping at every sneeze and cough that I hear inside the house. I was a bit more frantic in the beginning, but there’s a limit to how much you could wash everything that comes through our doors. I try, but the oncoming tsunami feels inevitable. I pray none of us gets it too badly.
What a crazy time we live in! Movies cannot seem to create a better script of the reality that we are grappling with.
Aasiya I Versi
