Musings of a White Haired Teenager

July 18, 2021: The networks make who you are. One of the things I learnt from the pandemic is to get out of the narrow space that I had built for me with high mental blocks and the real walls that slotted me into one place. We must remain there, I was told, by no one, but was internalized. Convention. Then the walls closed in and the space became the basement the screened porch. Those are the unmasked limit. I noted the frustration building up. No one to talk to. No one to connect with. Because we have been taught to look t life through the lens of place. Then WhatsApp happened. What was merely a side show among many tools began to take on life. I invoked the system to teach when we had to “pivot” in the March of 2020. All of a sudden it was no longer just another tool, but the central tool before other tools were adopted to live with the pandemic. COVID-19 brought video conferencing to me in a way that was only a science fiction. And the networks started. I realized that I had built t

July 17, 2021: The rains came again today. With a ferocity that seemed to be reminiscent of a Biblical flood. One that was, however, localized and while my bondhu and I were partly drenched as we ran to the car after the bulk of the deluge was over. The canopy at the City Center offers protection from the rain, but the noise of the rain falling on the canopy was a terrifying sound as my friend sipped on masala tea and we reminisced about the days gone by. Memories with bondhus, the ones that were and the ones that we are making. New experiences, new feelings, new bonds. Things I had never thought could happen were happening. As I drove to Park Street, yes, I drove myself. I hear this from many of the people whose comfort remains in driving in lane – “do you actually drive in Calcutta?” And as a close bondhu, sitting next to me on one such drive, almost shrieked as I passed the bus with millimeters between the vehicles, I realized I am truly where I belong. Driving in Calcutta is perhap

July 16, 2021: A day in court. It was a sweltering day in the city. Some rain is needed. A split air conditioning system can create strange climates in the house. The downstairs were freezing today, whereas the upstairs was hot. One has to adjust these things manually sometimes, the thermostat-based adjustments get thrown off when it gets that hot. And the cicadas are loud on summer nights. The cacophony of the insects is perhaps only matched by the cacophony of the crows in the morning. I was out most of the day. COVID-19 efforts have slowed down a bit, there is still no good options to find vaccines. Might have to redirect the efforts. Now we hear about COVID-19 through the networks, not on the front pages of the newspaper or a ticker on the side of the Fox news channel, although they had abandoned it sometimes ago. The only way to think of COVID-19 is now as normalized. My bondhu flew from Lisbon. Arrived today. No real restrictions, I was told. Fairly smooth. My day was at the cour

July 15, 2021: When you are open to opportunities. Good things happen. COVID-19 has changed my life. I can see things in a different way by overcoming the sense of statis that comes from habit. I was content last year. Things were settled into a pattern of habit. The eye was stabilized into partial blindness. Everything was as they were expected. Because I was lulled into a sense that everything was OK, and things are as they should be. Then in March 2020 everything changed. The terror of a lockdown, not being able to do the familiar, was instilled. My most cherished activity – travel – was halted. My sense of contentment was shaken to the core as I remained static in the screened porch waiting. Waiting. This is what COVID-19 did to many people, and as I sat in the living room with two amazingly creative persons working out the intricacies of a documentary film script, I realized that without COVID-19 we would not be having this conversation. I took the leap out of contentment in Octob

July 14, 2021: I could smell the flowers today. The warm humid air blew through the bedroom. Somewhere nearby there must have been a bloom of rajanigandha (Tuberose: Polianthes tuberosa L .) and the gentle aroma wafted through the room, as an approaching storm brought promises of a rain in the night. The test people who the Angels had set up came on time. The results came in record time. All good. The challenge has now centered on vaccines. There is a supply issue. Our team has been trying to procure vaccines, but it is increasingly difficult. It appears, from our limited experience, that there is a real paucity of supply. There is a good amount of red tape as well. A bondhu explained the thing to me and how one has to knock on many doors to get access. All I am looking for is to do one camp at the place where we have become embedded to support the people of that community. Everything can be done, the space to do the camp is available, there are people who could administer the vaccine,

July 13, 2021: I have friends who make my life better. How many can stand on the rooftop and shout out, “I have friends that make my life better?” I am talking about bondhus, not only spouse, not only family, but people who make a difference in your life because you have learned to look past the momentary imperfections and focus on the value they bring to your life. COVID-19 taught us the importance of this. Even when stuck in a basement I knew that I would have friends visit me in the basement. COVID-19 also reminded us that true friendship is not held hostage by proximity. Touch. When you can, you should touch. Their lives. Shephard’s Pie. I remember the day when a bondhu looked at the pie, grabbed a good portion and said, “I can actually taste this.” Seven days into the infection. I looked at my hands and said, “Really, we made that good a pie?” Covid to the rescue. The person eating the pie, in the midst of COVID-19, is perhaps not the best person to judge the quality of cooking. A

July 12, 2021: I took a wrong turn today. As in any large city there is a complex set of roads and flyovers that crisscross the city, and one needs to know which one to take to get to specific places. It is like going to Malibu from Culver City an knowing the exact exit to take to get to downtown when coming off the Salem Parkway. I took a wrong turn today and ended up in my old haunts when I was a kid growing up in the Dum Dum Park and Bangur neighborhoods. Old spaces, old bondhus, old mischiefs. The mischiefs make up our lives and memories. Things we did then, things we do now. Hiding from others, surreptitious activities, getting discovered and then the laughs over our innocence. This is what makes memories that can be shared in the future. My bondhu came over in the afternoon and we went for what could only be called a “joy ride” just driving around and talking of the futures that are before us. Futures are being made now as we gear up for vaccinations. The Wake Angels, the NGO I a