Cosmic joke: Locusts outside, earthquakes inside

In comparison, the symbols of corona in India are nightmare-inducing, like the video of a small child trying to wake up his dead mother, probably a victim of starvation. These scenes of unrelenting despair match those of civil war in Syria and it’s not surprising that the visuals of Shramik trains transporting people have provoked outrageous metaphor; someone commented that images of jam-packed compartments, and of their terrified occupants reminded him of scenes From the Second World War. Consumed as we are by the heartrending photographs of people trying to get home, there hasn’t been time yet to assess the damage that the pandemic has wrought on the so-called stable middle class. Dig a little and you hear the murmurs; of friends of friends laid off and depressing stories of till recently, securely employed postgraduates sending out SOS WhatsApps for ration.

In this situation, what becomes the role of the somewhat secure, at least for the immediate future? I suppose, one is still free to appreciate life’s little beauties despite the bleakness. That’s why so many people are discovering creative pursuits like cooking with renewed vigour. The wealth of free time made available by the lack of work has made us all into over thinkers transitioning from a busy past into a very slow future. Processing what one sees, illness, and a complete breakdown of law and order is a reminder, that everything can change in a flash. And we better get around to doing what we want to because who knows how much time we have, overall. If one has learned anything from the pandemic, it’s to let go of the illusion that we’re in control. And our best bet at survival is to humbly mask up and be willing to work as part of a whole.