July 3, 2021: A normal day

July 3, 2021: A normal day, where the normal is indeed a hybrid. Not just of people, time, place – but the hybridity that comes from the way we have designed our lives. A day before Independence Day, and I will probably watch the movie by that name tomorrow. It is normal to get up in the morning and be greeted by hundreds of WhatsApp messages. A truly 24/7 system where someone in my numerous groups is always awake at any time and forwarding jokes. It does not matter when I wake up, where I wake up, but five hours from WhatsApp is an assurance that there will be something to wake up to. A message from a bondhu. Almost always there. Then there will be someone to talk to also, a simple “Hi” staring at me from the screen could elicit an immediate “bollo” or a “What’s.” It is normal to be never alone. No matter where or when. There is a bondhu always to share a few messages. It is normal to brew coffee, have packet of Parle Glucose biscuits carefully dunking it in the coffee.  They do break off and fall in the coffee sometimes. I need a nice coffee maker. Made a mental note. It is also normal to drive down for the COVID-19 test. Swirl it, makes me sneeze usually, stick it in the vial. Leave it for testing. Results will be back soon. Sort of routine for me. It is normal to go to the departmental store to pick up a few things, see people in the store, going on with their normal lives. Almost picked up a coffee maker also. Unfortunately, it did not offer the multi-voltage option that nomads need. There are so many things that are standardized across the World, except there are millions still measuring in pounds and working with half the voltage used elsewhere. Had to rush back to not miss the adda with the familiar group from Calcutta Boys’ School. There are the regulars, we meet every week, sometimes for hours, and work things out. Doctors, Journalist, Economists, a rocket scientist (yes, for this person, it is always “this is rocket science”), Teachers, Businessmen, and so many other professions, all just sat around behaved like high school kids – which we are when we normally meet. The discussion rotated around beverages, “Buro Shadhu (Old Monk)” was featured as was some single malts. We could have gone on for a long time, but eventually everyone gets hungry. Normally, Saturday, is going out for lunch. The lockdowns had brought a stop to that. So it was normal to go out. A nice lunch, then some errands to run, on to some shopping with the family. All normal. The evening beckoned a movie. We had just talked about the new releases in the CBS adda. Decided to watch one of the new releases on the streaming service.  There was good talent, but the movie dragged a little – and they never really solved the parcel of mystery they had built up. But the accompanying “phuchka” (in some places it is called a “pani puri”) and the quintessential spicy mix water that goes into the phuchka made the movie tolerable. This is all normal. We are back to the normal. Decided to do something abnormal eventually. Decide to bypass the normal dinner for some Bhel Puri (the best approximation is a spicy hot mix with boiled potatoes and puffed rice) all accompanied by green chilis (lanka). So other than eating a not so normal dinner this Saturday pointed to a normality that we can expect. This is not necessarily new. But it might have taken a virus to kick some of us out of our stupors and see the normal as it is. And this is how it may be in the future. It is for us to dream up – a normal that just feels that way. In a couple of days, I am looking for the normal “Manic Monday” the Bangles reminded us about. It is what we are allowed to make normal.