$${\rm I}$$

A tranquil silence remains lingering in the air interspersed between tweets and chirps. Days cycle by like clockwork over the marginally arid land, bringing no respite to the soil thirsty for some hydration, trees stretch their splaying roots along their boundaries but are disdainfully stopped in their tracks by concoctions of concrete and metal woefully restraining the flora from sprawling their expanse, the place sustains the placid silence, the streets wearing a desolated look, except for the occasional chirping of squirrels and mynas tottering along branches, cuckoos and pigeons cooing, crows cawing, cows lowing for their calves, hopping, hiding within the constrained foliage of boughs, suspended cables and walls. Rain has been unpunctual this year for the land, taking on a rather dubious, arbitrary nonchalant evocation from its people, and yet surprisingly giving more. It draws in with teasing petrichor, more often reluctantly than not, heavy, short spells, at times going longer and showering enough to run full freshet through asphalt laden paths, marshalling strewn leaves, twigs, mustering muck, quenching the land and trees, promising a few months satiation. When it comes at night, it seems to follow with an intensity of its own accord, unawares of people’s judging eyes, thrashing down onto land a savage thrust of merciless precipitate, lightning and thunder roaring, quaking the earth in its wake, sending shivers down spines. Wind teeming with vociferous currents sways the trees chartering along in a cresendo an invisible ghost propelled with ferocity wicked dark and drifting oblique crystals of icy cloud condensed along its wake catapulted into air and land. People here have a penchant for dissatisfaction, similar to most people, a mental construct of melancholic void of resources from the gods and nature, ironically enough preventing, encumbering the latter every step of their way in an attempt to conquer it. Every time a week of rain brings them joy, lasting as long as the time itself, bridging the lack of it, until they turn vexed during the other times, the sweltering radiation from the sun bakes, toasts the dry earth furthering the humidity, a detriment of a costal sea bordering land. Wind currents drift aplenty, one prime mover of dust and air around this city, and the summer stretches oblong. During times of blessing, the living rejoice as one community, from birds, buds impeded from blooming flowers to humans. The people go about their plundering, casting ploughed matter along their wake, gathering land, planting food, mainly rice, coconut, plantain, sugarcane, cashew and millet if they found the soil turned fallow, acquiring property, engineer and constructing concrete towers and encampments with their designs to house, sell, live, procreate, and folly. During dry times, they grow sadder, and forget about the good times, longing for a break from the heat. In fact, it had rained more than usual that past year according to the meteorological data compared with the last couple decades. It has been a year and half that the cyclical entrapments of time have grown to suffocating heights that bring no dousing of calamity to mind, body and spirit of these people. Sweltering heat had been creeping up over the years, forcing the people more often to seek shelter amid shadows, or indoors, and blissfully engage in hydrating with coconut water, palm jelly, melon juice, lemonade, and rose milk regaled between howls of laughter and gossip over their afternoon sojourn. This year has been kinder, the summer got off to a torturous start bringing more despair amidst catastrophic loss, as if the gods were taking pity, the month of May turned around to witness some rain, which was a rarity, bringing probably the only respite to the city and its inhabitants. Following a wet spell, any verdure in the area rejuvenated in fervour generously blossoming with shade and fruit. When you think about it, both man and nature do right by themselves, although rather contentious with one another, their dichotomy embroiled in a quest for survival, trying to outdo one another to no end. But all doesn’t seem so healthy with the natural world. The human mind greedily probing, innovating, inventing new ways to expand his dominion, after being continually crevassed for its resources there comes a time when man does gain an upper hand and nature seem obsequious, when high rises are built towering over the trees, in attempts to house, with the booming population density, as opposed to a time when houses stood only as tall as a tree, if not shorter. There have been increasingly frequent quakes, droughts, cyclones, tornadoes, ensuing deluges, temperature shifts and warming of the oceans, atmosphere, seasonal alterations, obtuse precipitation patterns, carrying death and destruction along the way, and a disharmony seething with rage bubbling underneath the surface, we’re in dire straits here, thee would have thought. It is an eerie silence, not quite inherent to the locality, the birds and animals themselves might wonder where all the cacophony of noise might have dissipated. One might call it unnatural, yet it stretches on wide afar, almost tangible. A million and odd people make their abodes in the city, for it is home. Whence forth did such events unravel? Despite being a resilient people of tenacious grit, never might they have been privy to a cataclysmic event of such scale, threatening their very existence. A catastrophe that few could’ve dreamt, a crisis in which the global equilibrium was upended, ousted into living in fear, loss and hope. No one knew how it began, or where, transmitted, and travelled all over the world, but few naturally speculated about as they always do. The reality of the city and the country was that they did not care or couldn’t do so for they had tragically misplaced their lives for a trade with the grim reaper. Times had changed for the city and the country at large, their elected, government and those wielding power grew increasingly narcissistic, megalomaniacal, bigoted, stupid and oftn seemed to have ulterior motives. It’s not that the previous ones weren’t, but they attempted to serve the people rather than rule or coerce their wills down their throats, despite their tendency to loot or squander. And so it had become that the powers that be had decided to celebrate their victory over this pandemic a tad too early, it was now May but their Prime and Health ministers had declared themselves triumphant over this virus back in January, a cardinal sin. People, having an instinct for the wild by nature, and being deprived of some of their freedom, awaited the authorities’ word as the assent on the matter, now resumed their wildness. Bureaucrats have turned sycophantic underlings of their masters, their motivation being to not jeopardise their jobs, when they formerly held them accountable and led their efforts to bulwark the integrity of their systems. On the other side, desperation and frugality among people was beginning to rear it’s head, resources were stringent, and money reserves rapidly declining forced them towards further despair, steadfastly attempting to preserve the meagre resources for sustenance, for those earning on the daily it’d turned harrowing enough for them to either perish or flee to other locations. For those who had could save enough for themselves to lead reasonably comfortable lives, they too had their troubles in their own ways, be it with their jobs, or preventing their families from succumbing to illness. The wealthy were, as always shielded from the fallout, lavishly going about their ways, even growing richer, but they too struggled with the disease, although to a much trivial degree, the virus it seemed wasn’t prejudiced, nobody worried about them though, but themselves. One predominant inclusion to the previous year was frustration, fuelled by the unshakable feeling of being imprisoned in an infinite loop of Coronatime, then formerly a first tryst with this quandary for the inhabitants, this time reliving events of last year was venturing to impede the pot from boiling over.

The city of Chennai is a quaint, magnanimous, serene coalescence of pithy area turgid with people of eclectic fervour in north eastern Tamil Nadu, a fledgling city on the eastern Coromandel coast, alongside the sea, the Bay of Bengal, and the seemingly interminable coastline with their beaches as a beckoning soothing presence in hot months, and a vortex billow of turbulent volatility as ever during the late monsoon. The days fry the land and people, the sun was a scorching, radiant, beaming fireball which seemed to mercilessly peer down in close proximity during summers, and the nights are hotter, sweating profusely, and the moisture suspended in the air, if they had a choice they would keep clothing minimal and remain in their abodes, quenching with water, lackadaisically attempting to enjoy the time is the norm. It is not what we could call a big city, its contemporaries were generally larger in square kilometres, it was bounded to contain seven million people, regions and subdivisions with their various constraints of dividing land. It required only a spell of rain in the spring or summer, the land would break forth with blooming flowers, not that it warranted the rain, but we could sense a satiation and happiness within the trees, plants, animals and birds when spring came with it’s shock of green. The city also humbly bragged of several lakes, which once upon a time, brimmed with water for the majority of a yearly sojourn and everyone around was happy. Chennai or as it was known then, Madras, was usually a bustling, at times chaotic, rollicking and pious confluence of idiosyncrasies. Ravishing temples, churches and monuments rose, stood immaculately high against the radiant sunshine, and teeming roads. Beaches, temples, and festivals were the attraction for most people living in the city. Festivals always came with their fervour, excitement rent the air when even a minor festival was around the corner, families and patriarchs felt younger, went outside merrily to the jostling bazaars, shops, purchasing goodies, materials mainly food, clothes and memorabilia to their heart’s content, chattering in boisterous voices, bickering sometimes, haggling with vendors, relishing in the sweets and savouries from the local street shops’ which some it seemed, to only magically spring up when an event or a festival was around, from offering effervescent coffee to delactables cooked afresh steam and flavour alike effusing in the evening breeze, sumptuously gorging on idli, தோசை, bajji, வடை, biryani, bajji, காளான் and a miscellany of pantry majestically served usually on a sizeable plantain leaf, one couldn’t hope to savour their palate within an evening or two refraining gluttony. Mountainous heaps of flowers lay stacked by vendors among the side walks, scent wafted onto faces carried by the evening breeze coalesced with the fresh produce laid out alike. Along with festivals, some events brought in people travelling hitherto, also went to and fro from their own villages, towns and brought back their families, people from other states or regions migrated into the city during these transient periods where local business boomed more often than not. The streets led to uncannily narrow lanes, whereas the roads stood moderately broad, where it was used to overflowing with traffic. The roads and streets carried whimsical names, for most carried their names from back when the British had altered them with their counterparts, so it trickled through down the years and had come to stick, the roads and some streets had names as the viceroys, ministers and other British Raj executives who had administered during their Presidency of Madras. The state government had attempted to alter the hodonyms to carry their regional tags, with little success, over the years, a sizeable number of them were recouped, with only a few left to carry their colonial ones as the people were accustomed to them. Roads and streets usually ran superfluous with traffic and their daily dose of expletives hurled at passerby, traversing around, some dangerously close to rubbing shoulders, some larking around the tea shops engaging in morning telltales, and most travelling to their workplaces or homes, or setting up shops and eateries, made a typical day. The ecology endowed upon the city, had its balance led to tumultuous decay over the decades, it wouldn’t be surprising if the civilisation had developed around the three rivers, Kosasthalaiyar, Cooum and Adyar, linked by the Buckingham canal running parallel to the coastline, once served as a regular economical means of transport and trade, which each run across the north and south of the region, encapsulating the land in its lush boundaries of vegetation, pastures, and foliage, had turned to a cesspit of untreated sewage, trash, and breeders of vermin, and the buffaloes bathed and gullible goats loitered among the trash in pursuit of food. Red loam dominated over alluvial and sedimentary mixtures of soil, lush prairies and paddy stretched miles along the countryside, were planted with the stable grains, rice and the rest left to sow millets, and farmers homesteaded in the edge of cities, more ambitious with mango, coconut and palm, yielding decent results when the water had come in generous oodles.

The months of April and May brought conspicuous blithe Gulmohars, neem, banyan, peepul, and the local flowers to their zenith, come sunshine wasps and bees hummed lazily about, droning in on flowers, carried along the breeze, around tree fruits dancing effervescently to their scent, traversed around them, playfully engaging in combat in mid air, savouring the nectar, pollinating, building hive homes, nesting their eggs, zooming around people’s windows. Yellow flowers laid strewn about on the roads, where they seemed to endlessly fall in abundance, creating the paths where they stay rooted to shout in a dazzling golden mess. Mango trees got heavier, until they could no longer hold their fruits by their slender threads, moringa trees grew drumsticks longer than their branches, their pods and leaves were harvested and made for a delicacy, water and musk melon shops on the streets ran busy, and so did coconut and palm. Seasonal delicacies grew more lucrative to the palates, relishing in the local favourites, of which the mangoes, buttermilk, Indian sarsaparilla which had an aromatic enticing flavour when sherbets were extracted, cucumbers, koozh, a porridge like concoction of nutrition, and shots of Jigarthanda which is a portmanteau of ‘cool’ and ‘heart’, couldn’t be missed, and the occasional guava, and jamun turning their mouths into a vitrolic purple shock. Sweat effused relentlessly from the skin, soaring through hair and clothing, dripping oodles, turning profusely dank refusing to assuage at dawn or dusk only abated by the relieving propensity of water as one would imagine the effect the vast ocean had on the eyes. Sizeable colonies of ants in variants of a several millimetres marched along the floors, walls and housed themselves in crevices between joints and corners of a house. Birds and other arboreal creatures formulated together, perched atop tree axillary forks, and if they lacked room wedged amid concrete crevices and holes, nestled up, collated bare twigs, sprigs, tufts of arid dead grass, housing their mates, bobbing around frantically, dawn to twilight. During the day, the fiery wind ferried dust that blew fiercely through windows and open doors, manifesting trailing sheets of suspensions garnering over everything kept ajar. The Sun percolated iridescent through canopies of leaves, branches, in augur of impeding time, and most places found itself unblocked, bristling, unfiltered, cooking the earth, crusted leaves and parched grass laden with dust flurry in the afternoon torpor. It is believed at twilight if the eventide sun mottled sprawling impasto brushstrokes of deep vermilion hue serenaded the dimming skies, a bout of drouth was in store for a period until air currents gathered up enough courage to condense clouds found fleeing to greener areas. After a prolonged bout of rainfall, offered at times begrudglingly, sometimes the progenitive Sun overshadowed by the stark overcast heaven unable for the trickle of radiance to escape beneath the dark ridges brimming with water, the temperate Sun peered playfully in nascent slant rays, during the hours prior to twilight scuttled along dazzling strides upon the residual puddles and wet soggy earth if not inundated roads, an oeuvre of murky dropsical days, a golden hue of reflection radiant among the trees and buildings and upon glazed panes in regal incident through mullioned windows traversing inside undulant and in such times everything seemed alright and hale and dandy after a bleak, moody, yet cosy week filled with drizzle and thunder, snuggled in draping blankets over our necks, reveled in our bodies’ warmth for what does one’s suffering in the unfettered heat requite if not for such days when one isn’t awoken by their sweat. Leaves that hung forlorn mottled in trickles of dew birthed spectral shades of green among the sprawling boughs and spires and birds chirped raucously to frolic and swirled around gaily, cuckoos elated bobbled around singing their hearts out, gold supine over green and the odour of chlorophyll rented the placid air bristling in the lazy afternoon. At the outset of dawn, the first sunshine glinting in always invoked the myriad feelings of glee laid sunken by somnolent yesterdays and seemed to set the mood for the week that followed, rich in fecundity, hoping the same events play out again often, as it lay damp underneath the cedars, coverlet of meadows perched tremulous atop the dank subterranean laden with leaf and floatsam, and near the shore the water inebirated among the tideflats and Sun gazed limpid while the drifting clouds capriciously loomed, the remnant chill and still mist left without dissolving into moisture suspended inconspicuous oblivious of occasional smoke and perturbation, coalesced with the dust, the dank air at times rent with petrichor emanating an odour as one walks by the coastline where they sell fish which reminds one of Kasimedu or the numerous other markets along the shore. Bloom and succulent verdure burst forth in splendour when the times had been less acrimonious. Waking up to scintillating blue sky and cottonlike cumulus clouds radiant sunshine stark upon us we believed the natural order of things were in equilibrium with nature’s bestowments diffusing into our eyes we could barely look up at the north eastern side of the sky, retinas too weak to fathom, reflect all that light. Of all our senses, fed noisily into matrix of thoughts, substantive in their musculature we gather upon the world’s travails of play thrust forth collated, in our memory they remain from note to moment suspended in of the labyrinths of our mind, adsorbed into the helms of cognition does it grow our conducts and thoughts, experiences galore warped into retinas to be reimagined in sleep, an unimpeded multitude of visual imagery like star trails gathered as essence of ambrosia, relive our pasts in tides of permutations, the coalescence of senses play out in dreams never retained or remembered more than they offer their furtive proclivities to mere evanescence at the blink of eyes when we awake from our reveries, an escapade only satiating subliminally in their annals, resplendent imagination one cannot possibly muster such skill when awake, sow the seeds for subsequent days’ frivolities or endeavours to recycle the day’s concoction of one’s verities, in hope that the filtered remnants leave a high signal to noise ratio, for posterity, transform us unbeknownst whilst we remain suspended in the figments of rapture, while the moonlight trails incident peeped into snoring windows.

Oh the lost years and sojourns lay fleeting In my mind and the myriad vivid times now bequeathed
the similitudes of times ever grow farther apart Disillusioned into despair and drouth raptured Brazen with greed and malice, now they remain amassed inside houses, businesses and markets whirl around as wind Entrenched are they ever in malfeasance to satiate their Avarice ever remain in behest of disdain and power Careers and promises shackled held by our necks Subservience unto thin slips of paper named currency and sycophantic fervour led repugnant, While dissent, remorse and droll being our solace to convalescence as underneath the veneer we lay despondent And hunger and fulfilment gain fruition remain everlasting Forever enslaved to their pithy yearnings as we’ve been long immured by For satiation never comes as reparation never does Wait we shall for auguries of repose we traipse along While decadence arises to hubris, annulment from nature awaits Await thee comeuppance, monsters of hypocrisy subsumed unto themselves
For all plights arise from lack and all denouement in death Ever lost in seething travails and insolence of others stymied upon high as collars Caught in the mystical web of complexities and tides of predicament may linger insipid platitudes edified thrust overwrought upon our fears and hopes cursing our fates ferried by vastness of weeks Savagely left wrestling with pleasure and pain Longing to be seen, heard, longed for warmth Novitiates of time and space doomed eternal lest one shall escape from folly
Where the times jolt us back to our obligations bound by the sinews of destiny Trapped we feel inside as a caged bird does, in their machinations, grow reticent Yet in time abiding we revolve as pupae cradled in pillows of universal cocoons drifting through the infinite canvas encircling another circumambulating forever Reduced to dust and debris annihilated into smithereens Lest we wonder gazing at the stars and time alike Stare stoically at us back shimmering though we only can remain enamoured eons of light older than our species reflect upon our eyes, look at it, hear thy dulcet tones, flounder amidst thy tribulation see it diminish into trivial dust, as a breath caught in the storm nourished by starlight for until we might never know of its integrity, they shine on for us Meandering in our minds scuttling for our place of existence, Where do we live, then or in the coming times? Whence did all encompassing this change promulgate around our lives, blinded we are, by time and change Interspersed whilst we trounce over them by our interlinked interstitial toil Aren’t we haunted, bathed in shadow of remorse, of heaved by its gravity Yet while we were blooming in alacrity didn’t discern our times, surreptitiously Did it entrench its way, snuck in behind, permeated through years maybe Grappling with our present abdication and irascibly contemplate Places we reconnoiter, at our homes and the roads, while we loiter or at any time we’re subliminally curious be cognisant of abnegation left to our perils beseeching wondrous reminiscent Memories created now and ever, though shall never regain their Old clutches, can now our only source of consolation and comfort Empathise we can upon our fellows teeming in the lugubrious depravity for the coruscations inherent in souls let to anneal in time shall get ahead, countenance fathomed triumph forth with veracity Onward shall thee go, onward dread never heal one’s soul but rapport with tenacious spirits hankered forth bristling with desire and courage ennobled down the paths of glory In their ennui of doleful attires or lustrous effort Mighty shards abhorrent, diced with delirium
Take shelter in the serenity of magical nature resounded love and blossom Amidst the vast expanse find thy refuge, hearkened thy resonant sound Mother! I seek from you, the paragon of all pervading omnipotence, catharsis as I give unto you all I have with me, all my agency, all my hope, my premonitions and anguish Tranquilise me with your angels! In such gratification find thyself enthralled In such faith of oneself may find absurdum or the decorous light

Never will we have the time we did have For they remain stark upon our ever transient time ephemeral hope and desires we long to fulfil before Long our will gives up to complacence and contempt Down a path ravaged by competition and selfishness Disillusions withdrawing as we pass by months wallowing in pity and hurt, Anxious are we of legacies and lorn While they loom over our shoulders Threatening to devour our spirits and souls Gleaned of fear in moribund decay as the inevitable drew near In old age and loss of decrepit shall they gleam in triumph But only if we can only have our old times again now Live on like then, live on as then, for you only ever have now To live in and out, joy or sorrow, embrace us ever We shall do to better preserve it for you only ever have this Moments of days and tides of either regret filled in revilement Ineffable is the rich lives acted on virtuous cycles begets shall propound Or of joy filled reminiscence, shall be fruits of conscious choice Every night before one is taken forth unto sleep shall mutter in silence over Don’t waste thy life, don’t waste all those moments and days and weeks, for when sought to gain them back whence left to pondering over their imagery for what reasons ye shall never realise, a purpose one plays over this stage Whilst inspite ourselves we lose our grip on time and flounder Exhilarating vagaries of insouciance withheld by thy lives Blissful souls, magnanimous spirits, reposed bodies traversing veracious annals of history Circles of time swirling out flat spacetime in ballooning toroids Until oh Mother! the invincible earth grounds us unto dust reaps us into itself

It was an ephemeral, existential period or so it seemed for the country, months moving from one stage of the pandemic to the next over the period of 2020 and the following year, optimistic people were hellbent on striving for it when none was to be found over the myriad of destruction in the ever lasting hope of tunnelling through to the light, telltale signs of the light was casting mirages of light beams to bore through the dark path but to no avail, as tenacious as they fought to discover a beacon, only to be crestfallen on the resulting tomfoolery. Ensuing chaos notwithstanding in their minds, gathered up all their resilience for the oncoming trajectory they followed to find their next solace in the interminable mirage of hope. Pessimists remained as they were, the naysayers, withering away to their innate mental decadence, neither offering any empathy to others in their downtrodden haplessness, nor to prevent their own savagery from this interstitial purgatory fallout, and so they embraced it with their heart. Others, struggling with their mortality, the majority of them, at wits end, torn between the ridiculous apathy of the virus, their government, their people, and their inherent hope to survive, admonished at themselves to keep moving onwards in their bleak tunnel paths to beams of light which led to more junctions of darker tunnels promising a cataclysmic month with a few kilograms of hope to fuel their engines for the next month of tunnel pathfinding heading towards an exit portal. Naïvely, or not, the promise of an exit strategy, if any, was aware to only be discussed among the higher ranks of the government, whether or not it was informed, or grounded in scientific rigour, procuring enough resources to fend their own people was itself a daunting task all of a sudden cometh the summer, only it seemed that conscientious ministers who had deemed themselves victorious from the virus were steadfastly proving themselves wronger every other day since January, not being prudent enough to stock, supply, vaccinate their citizens over a disease that was novel and had no cure, and sought to redeem their dwindling repute, clout that they had toiled for to architect over the last seven years of their tenure, as much as a farmer did for his crop, even if the jaws of the virus bore viciously into the alveoli of people’s lungs. Some wondered, some were appalled, that the incumbent government somehow never seemed to realise that assisting people with palliative medical aid grounded in scientific evidence was a more safer and effective approach than spewing irrationality, peddling the pseudoscientific magical quackery of charlatans. People’s growing appetite for seeking redemption from the dark tunnels outshone their bubbling anger at the apathy, disingenuous exhibits of the ministries, only furloughed by the promise to vaccinate, despite their families distraught, neck deep in slurry, marsh unforeseen in the dark tunnel. Air was a luxury in some of these tunnels, families suffocating for their life’s elixir, oxygen, were driven to despair as the virus conquered their lungs, dropping dead in quantities of which the people following behind could not possibly hope to quantify, so they had to march over them in pursuit of their own beacon of light. Others, who were luckier marched onwards seeking the elusive shred of expanse or beam, grateful they remained in their hope to survive for the dead. Sons and daughters held their parents’ hands, embraced them in their minds, and so did the parents who had the despicable fate to suffer, as they succumbed, for a hope of a physical bonding was unassailable with this disease. It was the end of April, the virus had probably attained it’s apotheosis of greed, went on its rampage, hospitals and healthcare workers ran rampant with emergency wards overflowing into other wards, until all turned into the same, and the sick began lining up on the streets outside, ran to exhaustion, crematoriums ran into miles of queues of the dead, and their workers toiled the graveyard shift to dispose the dead with dignity, the holy Ganges permeated with strewn bodies cast away, a desperate attempt due to the insurmountable amount of dead people, diminishing resources, and to avoid the imperious eye, it was a moral conundrum. The government who had assured their citizens a better year, after the last one went wild with the virus being nascent as it’s first employment, though not as frightening, the virus seems an apprentice then, and an earnest student of resilience which in its quest to survive was the resulting chaos this year, sought only a portion of vaccines for their citizens, and in an attempt at furthering their clout exported the bulk of their own manufactured stock to other countries, who were either richer or more developed, were in for an ugly, morbid awakening. Ironically enough, they had vehemently espoused self reliance for its citizens, when it came to stocking resources, medical equipment, vaccines and every other imaginable human need, since the year last, all set to bask in the glory of their accomplishments, had brought their country to a point where they, believe it or not, were the ones who were in dire need of aid from others. Abating the storm was the need of the hour, and so they held their arms open at the pity of their friends, countries who had enough if not aplenty to offer, donate and aid India, in not only as a gesture of gratitude, or goodwill, but to rather prevent the world at large from succumbing again to another tidal wave of the virus, which had become less of an existential threat in countries which had the privilege to vaccinate, provide medical care and financial support to its people. They were of course, given, donated truckloads of oxygen, medical devices, and equipment flown into the country from all around the world, nations grateful for their good fortune of gradually moving on to better times, good, normal lives, were gratuitous with their donations, striving to maintain healthy relations, individuals from other countries who began fundraisers poured in with theirs and other organisations followed suit, for India did need it. Privileged people in the country did their part, by donating, fundraising, and providing assistance online to fellow citizens in their frenzy to overcome their despondent reality, families running headlong into the clutches of death, derived minuscule bits of reparation in joy when their aid came to fruition as the distress calls were answered by an availability of oxygen or hospital beds.

Lockdowns were a nascency, a first of its kind, an unheard-of beast in March 2020, when the pandemic had just begun to rear its ugly head, people had never encountered a beast such as this in their whole lives, it was impregnable, it required you to limit your social activity, stay indoors, lock yourself up in your houses, stop loitering around on the streets and roads, whether be it on foot or on a vehicle. Well, humans being social animals, and requiring them to shut themselves in their abodes may seem trivial, but the reality hit different. Everything came to a standstill. World events, sporting events, socialising, partying, dining, and venturing outdoors in general. With the advent of the internet, and the subsequent globalisation that followed, which had gained an ubiquitous presence over the years, the late 90s transitioning into personal computers followed by mobile computing, and finally smartphones which people of the day spent more time with their devices than with each other, owing to obligation or not. With lockdowns, people could stay in their homes, connecting with one another across the world enabled by the Internet, and spend their days with working, entertainment, learning, and anything they wanted that required not sleeping. To some, the internet served as a support system, an accomplice, or friend, or confidant, or facilitator. It provided enough information on any subject a person could possibly hope to learn in their lifetime. It was rad. One couldn’t imagine their life without. All modes of communication, socialisation could be done remotely, aided by the internet, soon corporations and businesses grudgingly adapted to their new routines, which they had often reluctantly disregarded as a worthy attempt, as before the pandemic arrived, the perception of working remotely was that of an employee taking the day off work. When it came to lockdowns, most of the world’s countries had gone through a minimum of a monthly lockdown from their services, businesses either shut or went online, majority of the developed world had developed their lives enough to take their work online and could be performed remotely, from the comfort of one’s home, and so they did, leading a regular life was encumbered, bare essentials alone were available for purchase for satisfying one’s appetite and needs. Everything goes online. Anything that could take their business forth online did so. It was a challenging task to enforce onto people, and proved even more daunting to carry it out, as wild as people are, it was a laborious one to convince and shut people in their own confines, this even in the developed world.

The virus went on its rampage all over the world in 2020, initially had its free of cost world tour via air travel before restrictions were put in place to curb the spread, to no end, indiscriminately between one country and another. What came after seems inevitable.

People developed a keen taste to cope with the times, and a sense of magnanimity, with mostly humour, with memes, music and food amidst this pestinential war. The new normal, as much as it was sarcastically trolled for its dark tone as it was intended with utmost seriousness, was here to stay for most people around the world since June, last year. Most of the Western world, and their governments took the pandemic as their highest priority, and as the year came to an end, prepared themselves for second and more waves if the virus unleashed itself once life was opened back up. In India, when lockdown was imposed for the first time in March, it was unprecedented and received backlash for its prerogative bias without adequate support and time allotted to the evacuation of migrant workers from the northern Gangetic belt, who were employed in large numbers all over the subcontinent, but no one was spared, save the rich, from the shocking surprise unleashed by the Prime minister, it was a sobering reality. The middle class, of which those privileged enough to work remotely on their computers, were in for a shock as well, as this meant their everyday transit to offices were annulled, traffic that usually clogged the roads overflowing with vehicles, cars, two wheelers, buses, apart from which save themselves time and exhausting endeavours such as reaching their offices, some secretly wished it would remain so. Others, such as local businesses and people who formed the informal sector, which in turn was the majority of the country’s economy, were in for a rude, unfair setback, probably the greatest one of their lives, as being dependent on everyday income which when terminated without warning, had to figure a way out for only their survival, some ended up going back to their villages and small towns, and as only essential businesses, shops, hospitals were allowed to operate, the owners thanked their luck and went on with their services. Several livelihoods were vaporised into thin air. The chasm between the social strata grew increasingly apparent. In cities and towns, food and groceries would be delivered to those living in apartments, houses, and other abodes of people, who with the luxury of technology could just tap their desires away at their phones. Only industries deemed a necessity were allowed to function, but most took to working intermittently anyway. The Prime minister and his team had worked hard that year, to allocate, donate resources such as medical equipment and drugs to countries in need, create awareness among people, reward them with bouts of freedom if they followed successful lockdowns, promise a brighter future through self reliance, respect and dominance on the world’s stage with the improved economy. People could only dream, fantasise about just enduring through. Most spent their days in front of their screens, phones, televisions and computers, gathering information, working and dawdling away driven to bouts of delirium. Days streamed past in what seemed like minutes, and months swifted by in weeks. Time had seemed to become impatient as well every other year, not just people. Schools were shut, only to remain so for a longer time than was anticipated, children and other students adjusted to the new medium of attending their classes online, it sure was an unfair time for them to be deprived of the joys of a lifetime. Playgrounds saw no play and fun, nor did any of the classrooms where benches stood unseated and blackboards not written on with chalk to be copied down by the students. Sudden lockdowns, brought into effect at short notice meant furthering the transmission as people panicked, tried to hoard essential items in their efforts to sustain themselves over the period, having to stay home throughout. Such events ended up furthering the virus’ spread urging it to mutate. Evidently, cases usually rose to alarming levels during lockdowns, and dipped when restrictions were eased, it was always that way. Lockdowns brought with them a grand nullification of human activity in the world, regular life being nonexistent meant that the biosphere could restore some of its lost integrity, the flora and fauna of the land thrived in all its glory, unforeseen events such as rains during usually dry months, exotic endangered species of birds were witnessed gliding by, trees sprouted unravelling their branches, the ecosystem heaved a sight of relief, it was a serene sabbatical. Perhaps, the government took the outrage they received for locking the country down that year, quite seriously, anything more could they have possibly done to curb the spread, was left to the people. They naturally relented, the next. The scene in the summer of 2021 wore a taciturn, grave, and bleak demeanour as the last. The previous year had been seen, prayed, hoped, purported and promised to gradually lead up to a rewarding, gratifying and exhilarating time ahead, if only we could see it through. Grudgingly, people ploughed on with their lives, those that remained as a survivor of their family reduced to dwelling in memories, rest reliving the days of the last, their mental health ever on the brink of a breakdown, those that remained fortunate enough to not visit the hospital, pondering aimlessly about in their ennui for a tangible exit portal from the dark hellhole. They strove to make peace with their worlds. The rest either were dead, dying or bade goodbyes to their loved ones.

The year of 2021 had set in with high hopes, both from the people and government to optimistically travel forth outwards the dark tunnel of the humanitarian crisis, to the elusive light beam, January had brought a new found optimism and bracing hope, invigorating in their manner and speech, in homes and streets, and within remote offices. A lot of this had to do with it being a new year, but also with the fact of statistical data which proved a drop in people falling sick, and deaths. Cumulatively the year had not been the best of years in terms of economical output, productive growth in companies, stock market indices, human development for the world, for it had faced a novel disease and entrenched in history was a hundred years ago a pandemic of a similar virulence and a morbid outcome, the global population and humanity at large for the first time since World War II was faced with a threat, abominable enough to forge a non-trivial dent on, if not oblivion. The difference this time being, with the evolution of medical science, scientific research had made strides over the last century, the advancement in virology and vaccines led scientists to capitalise on their research over their lifetimes to make headway, and produce viable vaccine candidates, in a ridiculously short timespan of a year. Trials were carried out in larger quantities of populace in the world, and with peer reviewed falsification of evidence, randomised controlled trials done, to establish the safety and efficacy of touted vaccine candidates to adopt for mass manufacturing that would be administered to people. Post January, after some countries of the world experienced second waves of the disease, moved onto February where most of the developed world, took on the gargantuan task of and began vaccinating their citizens in massive numbers. Meanwhile, in India during this time the government, who had as seen earlier, already begun to move on from the taunts of the pandemic, towards victory, to the light, to freedom. And so did the people, who could only savour their long lost freedom from loitering outside their houses. It was March, and the dormant virus was biding its time all along these spring months, where it had learned from the outside world that to survive it had to mutate into a more virulent, transmissible version of itself, hoodwinking even the best vaccines to an extent, leading into April. Things never seem to go as expected.

And yet, the mutation of this virus wasn’t to be a revelation, it was as expected among scientists, and health experts, and those who knew the basics of epidemiology or virology, it could be said that it was even anticipated. Perhaps the virus took a leaf out of the book of people’s resilience, but either way it was privy to the chink in their armour as it devoured the ACE-2 receptors, to make its headway into cells, proliferating their way like a nuclear fission reaction. Those with excessive glucose in their cells or bodies were more susceptible to a severe infection as the virus fed and leeched on glucose molecules for its survival, and similar to this, those with comorbidities, and other lifestyle diseases, such as diabetes, a high blood pressure were more prone to the mercy of the virus. Mutations had been anticipated by the scientific community, but what no one had seen coming was the onslaught of virulence, coupled with transmissibility, which not only made for a more harrowing disease, but seemed to double down on severity. Meanwhile, vaccinations took off in countries which had ravenously hoarded enough stock to supply its people, to last more than a few waves of the pandemic, and were being administered to a sizeable populace. Those who got jabbed, bragged about it on social media, as they should maybe. The privileged countries had their own conflicts though, their people weren’t all easygoing on the vaccines, a whole set of their population were against vaccines, conspiracy theorists, fearing or citing reasons only they could make sense out of, but their major reluctance was fear of adverse effects on their health. Conspiracy theorists ran amok during the whole initial wave, understandable given the virus’ novelty and information on it was in nascent stages as scientists frantically set to sequencing its genome, and did not falter in their vehement opinions even as the year turned over to the next.

Thus fell upon my dropsical wanton mind weariness, thou shalt not grapple with an ounce of hope or glean goodwill among thy thoughts, as thou shall remain tethered to this here vacuous abyss look thy darkness and sadness, wrestle with thy anger bound endless circular thoughts of survival and calamity shall thy ever remain alive long enough to ponder one’s place in thy life look upon my tremulous horror and bleak solitude ever ye can only imagine, imagine a future for beneath the travails of this infinitude time ticks by shall life pass away immersed in these circular endeavours of raucous thought forbearing upon my quest for mere survival shall have prayed and wallowed in one’s own ineptitude trounced piteous solemn ideas gather upon oneself in the everlasting faith of your virtues and courage in the journey with aplomb towards thy fleeting light for this decadence shall return again yet your life can only take realisation in the ephemeral sojourn bereft of premonition in acrimony, manifest in the tethered tides of ebb and flow of this hungry despair and evasive lack thereof infused within one’s physical enterprise and destiny, ask thyself will all my days remain a battle of these indomitable waves, thy waves my deathbed, whilst I launch against them swinging my rather frail seeming sprightly arms teetering my sullen face held above this turbulent vehicle threatening to devour me unto your bowels thy whilst shall never prevail over these dire straits hither to seek the shores of this sea rushing vast and haunting, sought meet my lief inch onwards trouncing nigh crestfallen that this could dost mighty sea ruth your plight whilst I forlorn torn against the sanguinary fate of my existence shall ever remain wading to that elusive distant land thither so that the abhorrent days may seem inferior, shunned to diminish into the oblivion of lost memory I wade on battling this doom and gloom for as long as I can breathe holding my head breaking this inundated surface along anchored by faith and careened by time gather unto dust and settling..

India stands as the most diverse nation in the world, well at least in terms of the naturally eclectic formation of the populace given that civilisations developed around the major rivers since prehistoric times, assimilated those from all around the continent and beyond over millenia. People belong to a hundred different cultures, languages, religions, castes, regions, professions and communities. Religion is one of India’s significant businesses, despite also being upheld in its heart for its entrenched pious platitudes in faith, rooted in people, in families, and communities. Localities were named for divine connotations, towns and cities developed around a religious institution, mostly a temple. Temples formed the heart of a town or village, families lived around one, businesses set up along side them, any foreigner who felt lost by the place navigated merely with the temple as their anchor. Given the importance of temples, and religion to people the local government were only as devoted if not more, in their earnest duties to their servitude to God, promising divine intervention in the form of their leaders, voraciously propagated in their election parades, rallies, and speeches. There were people of various levels of piety and earnestness when it came to it, some were indeed sincere in their faith and if they believed in a just and moral God, they would have the courage to lead peaceful, ethical lives, if not prosperous. There were some who if they did believe, perform grand gestures of rituals, to convince their god of their faith, would be granted their wishes and atoned for their sins, they seemed to regard it in a businesslike professional exchange of deals. There were others, who belonged to another class of faith, who held their faith and religion as a mere tool, for they were deluded enough to believe that if they acted on their instincts, were angels acting on God’s will, but to them it was a forge which was malleable and ductile, with which they could manipulate to their heart’s content, divide and rule, make their ends meet, and rewarded themselves. This usually meant trudging up the ranks of the local political parties, municipalities, temple administrations, and panchayats. The more number of faiths the city or town boasted of, the more challenging it proved for these people to promulgate their demagoguery among the people, so they found other implements such as caste to exploit them with, being metastatic as it was. It helped, if the town were diverse in more than one aspect, to ward off the demagogues, who were malignant, but it was rather seldom in smaller towns as communities usually formed around people’s faith or other identity, and the intact amassed diversity existed only as a whole in the country rather than within families or communities, even in cities where we could expect diversity, only a few regions could boast of being morally upfront, progressively working towards a healthy community, or of being unprejudiced. It proved a challenging endeavour in such places, smaller towns in contrast were happier with their elected staff as they would only elect leaders whom they could identify themselves with. People who moved to the cities, mainly did in pursuit of a better employment, and better quality of life for their families, it only happened by chance that they met fellow Indians from a different community, or made friends with, and even fewer ended up marrying them. Those that did, bore the brunt of their parents’ and relatives’ outrage and disappointment, firstly at a refusal to comply with their own set of rules, elders in the family usually handpicked the consort for their sons’ or daughters’ as they would pick a mango, and at being an insult to their people, of having lost honour. And certain communities would even end up killing their own, rationalising it, if it meant their pride was intact. A billion people felt divided in their own minds, prejudiced to those belonging to other families, and had so learnt their biases since childhood, which seems irredeemable in adulthood, though none of these biases were outwardly exhibited to their fellow people, it came out in subtle ways, surreptitiously, the monster if present, was always dormant. The western world, in contrast dealt with the plague of racism entrenched in their history, and system, people laboriously attempted to legislate, draft policies to bring about systemic changes in to curb bias, prejudice and embellish themselves to emancipate immigrants from the clutches of racism, and bring forth equality. In India, it was a great splurge when elections were around the corner, festivals seemed less extravagant when political parties held their rallies and parades along the streets of small towns, villages and cities, speeches were erected with humungous gathering of the local populace, on gigantic stages, blaring loudspeakers, microphones set their gain knobs to point Far East, flags and banners prodigiously displayed at their flamboyant best, it was a spectacle for the inhabitants of the town when the Prime minister himself delivered his extemporaneous manifesto. Political parities were suddenly spendthrift, attempting to showcase their flamboyant, voracious, charismatic selves and took a vacation from their perniciousness, adorned themselves with the decorations, indulged in the local festivities, curiously grew closer and socialised with the people, the grandeur was unparalleled. Speeches were sonorously delivered by the candidates, ministers, supporters, on stages, on the roads, streets, from their mobile rally vans, and on social media, all to a non trivial turnout of people. Campaigns ran wild with inflow of money, virulent propaganda on the streets and the internet, to no end, it was everywhere and turned people’s primary subject to initiate conversation with friends and family, gossip, squabble and injure themselves with. Local politicians enjoyed their posterised graffiti busts on walls, pillars and squares. Yes, sometimes the enthusiasm among supporters of a party ran to violent lengths, when rivals would draw their ire and turn arch nemeses and engage in battle and even vandalism to their wits end. Others who felt were conscientious objectors to physical violence, took their fights to social media. Come the actual polling days, people would turn startlingly reluctant, meek, ceremoniously heading to their voting centres to cast for their favourites, some opting to not vote at all, the poll days always seemed to adopt the mood of a lazy Sunday, voters moved lackadaisically to their respective centres, though not all, some fuelled by their patriotic fervour in the quest to fulfil their duty to the country led the way most often, dragging their families along, to elect their leaders. It was customary to hold celebratory events post the results of an election, party workers and the local people gathered gaily and danced, partied, frolicked with their elected gods. It is the world’s largest democracy.

Times had changed for the world, and the city, what was once a fledgling and bustling land, wore the look of dilapidation, desolation, a void furthered with endless trepidation, ploughing through the darkness devouring themselves in the delirium of mirages, the ominousness promulgated from deceit and despair, wallowing in the degradation of our collective psyche, inching towards the abyss, none of which warrants their permeation of our mortal selves for no longer than they require us to, for our mental fortitude remains with us thriving if we will it and our grit shall have been made stronger as the bestowment of nature, and never will have to wither away into the gravitational well of the black hole, for vestiges of our body and spirit may prevail over fruitless years, to rejuvenate in exuberant blooming flowers and laden trees with ripples of water glittering like diamonds with sunshine over the horizon.

. . .

$\scriptsize{[^1]:\text{This is the first chapter/prologue, and the whole is a work in progress (first draft), it's estimated to be completed by the close of the year.}}$

$\scriptsize{\text{© 2021 Abhinav Rajagopalan. All rights reserved.}}$