Life in the times of Coronavirus

Sipping apple juice in a long, cylindrical glass with a narrow mouth, wearing baggy pants and an over-sized shirt, hair still wet from the mid-day bath I just had.

It’s the nth day of the self-quarantine I have been under and time has taken a backseat. Its as if time isn’t moving at all and yet it going way too fast without being made use of.

Life has come to a standstill. Taking a stroll has been limited to a visit to the balcony door; cheering people on, making heroes of ourselves for saving lives. #Controlthepandemic.

I cannot speak for everyone, but I can say that its a privilege that I can sit home, and still afford my meals (at least for now). Who knows what the future will bring? A recession? Loss of jobs is already on the rise (read it somewhere) and how far are we to fall before we begin building again?

Its a question of when not if. But this time, where will we end up?

I’ve always made a mockery of philosophers but now I understand where they bring their ideas from. I’ve had many ideas ever since the lockdown has begun. Many ideas are stemming from an utter lack of distraction which I consider my constant partner in life.

Distraction and denial.

But the buggers have left me alone with my thoughts this time. March (26) came and went. And I was still thinking. I am restricting myself to spare a lot of people from a lot of pain. But will anyone restrict themselves for me?

Moving on.

Writing has been an elusive exercise. I want to write so much and yet I don’t know where to begin. The point of this has been lost on me already.

While I’ve been wallowing in self-pity, there are many who are struggling to make ends meet. The world is a mess and I seem more organised than most. What does it say about me? Have I been selfish in my grief?

Have I been selfish in my grief, running after one thing and forgetting everything else in between? One thing that I could not get, and letting everything else slide? I’ve been luckier than most, that I survived and I moved forward if not on.

Coronavirus is like a wake-up call for all of us. We need to “Carpe Diem” this shit once the crisis dies down.

I, for one, want to travel. Travel so far and wide that I realise how little I mean in the bigger circle of life. That I am not the end of the world and not the beginning; use the word “I” a little less maybe. 😛

Now, the reason why I started this post, to begin with:

Lost in Tide

It has been easy, to breathe, but difficult to live

What is life but a whimsical tale of woe, for me, and for those who are lost

Are they lost? Or am I?

It’s an unconvincing world, with ungrateful people and a lot of heartbreak

One leads to the other, and on and on the gyre churns, I recall some poet once said

That when things fell apart, there was no one to hold the fort

We are all lost in the tide, that once rose, and took us all in.

 

Wrinkles

Her eyes have lost the sparkle, like the fading stars at dawn

Death of the darkness, her wrinkles come to light, with every smile, an underline,

She dies as the Sun rises, also rise the scars

Trace them with me as they tell their tale

Here is where she used to break skin to laugh, not a polite one, but a snort

There is where the lines would form where the tears would fall down the cheeks into the hollow of her collarbone, collecting.

Somewhere here you’ll find the scratches, of harrowing times, leaving their mark

If the world was dying today, you’d be in my thoughts and if you were to tell me to go alone,

I’d sit on the doorstep of my dream house where once I had fairy lights and green drapes hung from the hopes of tomorrow

Love has long been gone from life, not many regrets to counter my strike, would’ve tried to stick it through, had it been otherwise

Life in the times of corona, a hateful time to be alive, but can salvage from the moments that one can hope to survive

Chasing

All we had was now, and you happily traded away my then for a better tomorrow

Get it if you can, but we lost our then while chasing infinite possibilities from one life

That I didn’t even sign up for.

The Marketplace

Spiralling bird with failing wings, like a shooting star, zooms across the sky, whooshing past the eyes filled with wonder

Making wishes of love and laughter to an imminent end, laughable.

Fear gripping the heart, held on for dear life, useless wings fluttering in the wind

Life happens when you’re stuck in office, living someone else’s life for them, carrying the baggage

Life happens on Instagram profiles, stories shared, scrolling down to the deep end

Life happens in heartbreaks, and losing the one who could be for the one who used to be.

Endless, tireless, days go by, every day a new struggle, a new mutiny to survive

Hearing your story, I feel for your heart, I do,

Heartbreaks come as easy as oranges in a busy market square

And I paid for mine, a heavy price, somewhere down the road, you did too

Walking deeper into the market, more broken hearts up for sale

And never could I decide where to find my broken heart, to love.

I wish I was Braver

I wish I was braver to take on the words that you put across to me on an ocean of hope and dreams

I wish I could tell you that life has been mean, and I was bullied into this attitude that the world so cruelly calls out as pessimism

I wish it would have been easier on me, so I could be the whole person you would have wanted me to be

I wish I wasn’t so scarred, that even my soul has scratch marks on them, when I tried to break free one lonely afternoon

I wish things would go back to the way they were, when life was in bloom even before I knew what life was

Anxiety

I didn’t invite her, she came over and when I tried to resist, she put her foot in the door

I backed off, and ran to the stairs to make it to the confines of my rooms where I thought I would be safe

Had I known she will follow me there, I would have just stayed

Failed, I failed to keep her at bay and slowly, she creeped into my very skin and I was immobilised

There was no help, I was under attack

My mind wandered to one sunny afternoon back home, where the flowers always used to be in bloom

The huge garden would greet me with open arms and I would hug the trees who grew up with me

Tippy, Tippy, top, which colour do you want? And off I’d run to hold what I held dear

Someone knocks and I snap out of it, I’m alone.

Was it a dream? Was there someone lurking under the bed or was it in my mind?

A nightmare of a feeling, sinking my soul within the murky waters of doubt

Anxiety.

Writing a Love Song

Tracing the curve of your back, as you arch your way to heavens of glory

Streaming in, rays of the Sun, fall naked on your tummy, as I watch the dust facets sparkle as you watch me

My eyes cover the length of your legs, tracing the edges with loving care, down to your toes, which you stretch every now and then

Your face tells me different stories of the past, which you survived, each wrinkle a medal, an ode to your sufferings, forever made immortal

Worship in my eyes, I look at your hair, cascading down your shoulders and on to the white, wrinkled sheet

Oh how I long to write my song of love, for you, if only you’d see, if only you’d known

That words fall short, when the time stretches in the absence which is felt when your warm hand isn’t in mine.