Driving and Thriving
On May 21st, 2020 I went for a drive with my elder brother in the evening. It was the first time I had stepped out in sixty two days.
I had been meaning to venture out, I knew I had to begin somewhere and soon. If COVID-19 wouldn't get me, the anxiety and panic at being out and exposed would. I came up with a simple plan. I wanted an Amazon Firestick but being in a red zone, I was unable to get it delivered by any online seller. So I called my old faithful stationer at a nearby market who had it in stock . I thought I would go and get it and perhaps even go to the general store in the same market. I made a list of things that I definitely didn't need but the idea of shopping had awakened my slumbering consumer. The days ticked on but I didn't go anywhere. I made excuses but honestly, I wanted to complete two months indoors simply for the smugness factor. Is it something to be proud of? I don't know if it's a testament to my will power or fear.
When the day finally dawned that I decreed would be D-Day, I checked with the stationer if he still had it and he offered to deliver it home. He even agreed to take a cheque payment. Oh, now that was tempting. The idea of staying cool (and still isolated) at home during the sweltering heat was too appealing to pass up. Suffice to say, once my gadget arrived, I disinfected it and all the surfaces it could've even remotely touched till they were gleaming and my hands had absorbed more than a Patiala peg's worth of sanitiser.
After a few days, I was mindlessly scrolling and swiping through my streaming options when my brother called and asked if I wanted to tag along with him for a drive. I instantly agreed. Not only was this the best way to expand my bubble but I would get new content for my Instagram too. I washed my hands, wore my shoes, picked up my wallet, sanitiser and gloves, washed my hands, grabbed a bottle of water, washed my hands again, wore my mask and sat in our car telling myself to not touch anything.
When we first hit the open roads, I realised that the roads weren't that open. There was more traffic than there used to be on a regular Sunday. I knew I had been alone for too long when what was supposed to be my inner monologue became a voiceover and I wondered aloud who these people were, where they were coming from and where they were going. It was satisfying to see that almost everyone I saw was wearing a mask. There weren't any crowds anywhere either. And yes I did say all this out loud too.
At first, I didn't feel any different. I didn't think that I hadn't been out for two months. This car ride didn't seem unfamiliar. The only novel thing I discovered were the beads of sweat slowly forming under my mask but I dare not touch my face or mask. Needless to say, the water bottle posed a conundrum as well. In an effort to distract myself from the heat and thirst, I willed myself to look out the window silently. My mood became joyful when I realised that the trees outside had become bigger and greener. Maybe the gardeners weren't coming, maybe the lack of people loitering and littering about and the air being clearer had helped. I knew it was unlikely but I was convinced. The greenery had expanded. My brother only laughed at my comments.
I was marvelling at my astute observation when I was overcome with inexplicable sorrow. I realised how much I had missed my city. What is it like to be Delhi during this pandemic? A city bursting at the seams with people and their myriad of emotions, opinions, violence, all the traffic, money, gimmicks and much more. Overnight, it had become virtually empty. The roads weren't being pounded, the shouting had ceased. I know the city isn't actually a person and thus it can't have emotions but it has a soul right? All of us make it. Did the city make us or did we make the city? Famed poet Mirza Ghalib wrote this about Delhi in the late nineteenth century -
To remember these sentiments, I recorded some videos but soon, it began feeling like a pointless task. It was the first time in a long time that I didn't want to look at a screen. And I felt uplifted and motivated, something that I am grateful for. I had had unexplained sleepless nights and bouts of panic since the beginning of this pandemic but the days preceding this drive were full of a new kind of uneasiness. My worries about what the future may hold or more importantly not hold took control of my mind more often than I'd like to admit. Yes, I am writing and being productive with my business in an effort to curb the stress about my work. But I would suddenly think of a wedding I had attended, the chance encounters at a party, eating delicious food at a new restaurant, seeing the movie you've been waiting for in a theatre full of people and it would hit me with the force of an oncoming train that these scenarios are for now a distant dream. Whether it's meeting the people you always say you'll make a plan with but never do, misbehaving with the Party People or the most unlikely - meeting someone new, I wonder how any of that could happen now. The lack of a physical social life is an abstract thought when you're sheltered at home with your family. Some of us even welcomed it. However, when you're out on the not so open roads and realise how small and ineffectual you really are, it becomes a whole lot realer.
My friends have slowly started stepping out and meeting each other. I know I will too. I may not be the best company since I'll probably be thinking about where my hands have been while nodding and listening to your latest kitchen experiment but I'll get there. I am being deliberately obtuse and stubborn right now because I want life to go back to the way it was. The idea of the new normal doesn't appeal to me.
Is this a result of my limited exposure to the capital? Have I been asymptomatic about how I really felt all along? People from other cities (coughBombaycough) will say - 'Typical brash Delhi people problems, so focussed on where they live' but my fellow local Delhiites will say, 'We managed to get booze, don't ask how. Dad and I did some jugaad. Just stop thinking so much and come over yaar.'
I had been meaning to venture out, I knew I had to begin somewhere and soon. If COVID-19 wouldn't get me, the anxiety and panic at being out and exposed would. I came up with a simple plan. I wanted an Amazon Firestick but being in a red zone, I was unable to get it delivered by any online seller. So I called my old faithful stationer at a nearby market who had it in stock . I thought I would go and get it and perhaps even go to the general store in the same market. I made a list of things that I definitely didn't need but the idea of shopping had awakened my slumbering consumer. The days ticked on but I didn't go anywhere. I made excuses but honestly, I wanted to complete two months indoors simply for the smugness factor. Is it something to be proud of? I don't know if it's a testament to my will power or fear.
When the day finally dawned that I decreed would be D-Day, I checked with the stationer if he still had it and he offered to deliver it home. He even agreed to take a cheque payment. Oh, now that was tempting. The idea of staying cool (and still isolated) at home during the sweltering heat was too appealing to pass up. Suffice to say, once my gadget arrived, I disinfected it and all the surfaces it could've even remotely touched till they were gleaming and my hands had absorbed more than a Patiala peg's worth of sanitiser.
After a few days, I was mindlessly scrolling and swiping through my streaming options when my brother called and asked if I wanted to tag along with him for a drive. I instantly agreed. Not only was this the best way to expand my bubble but I would get new content for my Instagram too. I washed my hands, wore my shoes, picked up my wallet, sanitiser and gloves, washed my hands, grabbed a bottle of water, washed my hands again, wore my mask and sat in our car telling myself to not touch anything.
When we first hit the open roads, I realised that the roads weren't that open. There was more traffic than there used to be on a regular Sunday. I knew I had been alone for too long when what was supposed to be my inner monologue became a voiceover and I wondered aloud who these people were, where they were coming from and where they were going. It was satisfying to see that almost everyone I saw was wearing a mask. There weren't any crowds anywhere either. And yes I did say all this out loud too.
At first, I didn't feel any different. I didn't think that I hadn't been out for two months. This car ride didn't seem unfamiliar. The only novel thing I discovered were the beads of sweat slowly forming under my mask but I dare not touch my face or mask. Needless to say, the water bottle posed a conundrum as well. In an effort to distract myself from the heat and thirst, I willed myself to look out the window silently. My mood became joyful when I realised that the trees outside had become bigger and greener. Maybe the gardeners weren't coming, maybe the lack of people loitering and littering about and the air being clearer had helped. I knew it was unlikely but I was convinced. The greenery had expanded. My brother only laughed at my comments.
I was marvelling at my astute observation when I was overcome with inexplicable sorrow. I realised how much I had missed my city. What is it like to be Delhi during this pandemic? A city bursting at the seams with people and their myriad of emotions, opinions, violence, all the traffic, money, gimmicks and much more. Overnight, it had become virtually empty. The roads weren't being pounded, the shouting had ceased. I know the city isn't actually a person and thus it can't have emotions but it has a soul right? All of us make it. Did the city make us or did we make the city? Famed poet Mirza Ghalib wrote this about Delhi in the late nineteenth century -
'Ek roz apni rooh se poochha ki Dilli kya hai, to yun jawab main keh gayi, yeh duniya maano jism hai aur Dilli uski jaan'
(One day I asked my soul that what is Delhi. The answer that came was that if the world is a human body, then Delhi is its heart.)
I had become so wrapped up in my own home, used to seeing so little that I forgot about my home's home. Sure we all complain about it, talk about leaving it but I am one of the few that loves her hometown, faults et al. It isn't perfect. It can be hateful, entitled, discriminatory and disgusting. It's also vast, majestic, powerful, historic, full of opportunities, dreams and deals. My childhood, schooling, family and work are all inextricably linked to Delhi. It's home to me.To remember these sentiments, I recorded some videos but soon, it began feeling like a pointless task. It was the first time in a long time that I didn't want to look at a screen. And I felt uplifted and motivated, something that I am grateful for. I had had unexplained sleepless nights and bouts of panic since the beginning of this pandemic but the days preceding this drive were full of a new kind of uneasiness. My worries about what the future may hold or more importantly not hold took control of my mind more often than I'd like to admit. Yes, I am writing and being productive with my business in an effort to curb the stress about my work. But I would suddenly think of a wedding I had attended, the chance encounters at a party, eating delicious food at a new restaurant, seeing the movie you've been waiting for in a theatre full of people and it would hit me with the force of an oncoming train that these scenarios are for now a distant dream. Whether it's meeting the people you always say you'll make a plan with but never do, misbehaving with the Party People or the most unlikely - meeting someone new, I wonder how any of that could happen now. The lack of a physical social life is an abstract thought when you're sheltered at home with your family. Some of us even welcomed it. However, when you're out on the not so open roads and realise how small and ineffectual you really are, it becomes a whole lot realer.
My friends have slowly started stepping out and meeting each other. I know I will too. I may not be the best company since I'll probably be thinking about where my hands have been while nodding and listening to your latest kitchen experiment but I'll get there. I am being deliberately obtuse and stubborn right now because I want life to go back to the way it was. The idea of the new normal doesn't appeal to me.
Is this a result of my limited exposure to the capital? Have I been asymptomatic about how I really felt all along? People from other cities (coughBombaycough) will say - 'Typical brash Delhi people problems, so focussed on where they live' but my fellow local Delhiites will say, 'We managed to get booze, don't ask how. Dad and I did some jugaad. Just stop thinking so much and come over yaar.'
Blurry screenshots from my videos
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