18th April 2020
“ I could not say good bye to my father, I could not say good bye to all uncles and aunts who died in exile,
No condolences, no rituals for my aunt, just an overwhelming fear of the unknown, the pandemic!
No time to mourn or reminiscence, the survival instincts beg more attention at the moment, the grocery list never was so long,
My companions these days include the white fabric chair with dirty fading arms like the grey sideburns of an old frail man,
The large window that snow and rain had splattered evidence on, cleaned yet more cloudy than ever before,
The view of the supermarket where shoppers line up like pawns on a chess board, I was never good at mind sports,
The vanishing cars that become invisible and the deserted, empty streets that once showcased life in a bustle,
They all are just old friends in new garb, a revealing outfit for the soul,
Nothing has changed except perspective, a multidimensional phase with intricate frames,
The heart says this too shall pass, the mind numb with pain,
My iPhone beckons me into exploration and there I sit on my favourite white fabric chair, swipe to Kindle,
You move from pathos to stupor, nobody likes to face the truth, can there be hope in deluge or delusion in hope,
The epiphany of day and night, the brutality of reality, the peace in death,the beauty of ‘the end’,
Time to become numb again, unKindled….” Jheelaf
Wrote these lines while reading Love in the time of Quarantine by Siddhartha Gigoo.
© Jheelaf Parimu Razdan
