Image from Pixabay
I hadn’t stepped out of my house for the past 2 weeks. My kids are under strict instructions not to put a toe out. We live in a row house in a gated community. No one knows the safety instructions for families like us. When we step out of our door, we are essentially outside – relatively safe, but outside. Our Lakshman Rekha is the line of horizontal tiles that mark the entry to our garage space. So we stay in.
Call it intuition, a sad understanding of human nature or a sadder observation of the lackadaisical approach of the people around me, I had somehow preempted the need to remain prepared. So I had managed to stay at home for 2 weeks.
Yesterday, I realized I needed some essentials. I heard from the community WhatsApp that the supermarket next door was open, that masks needed to be purchased, that they were allowing just 6 people in a time. I also heard that on the night before the lock down, people in there were packed to the brim, grabbing eggs from other people’s shopping baskets and milk, bread, vegetables were in short supply.
I still needed some essentials.
So I locked the kids in, and stepped out, prepared to keep an eye for a mob from a distance and prepared to turn away if there was any.
There was none.
The 2 minute walk from my house to the front gate was deserted. The pink and yellow flowers that fell from the trees were still there – some fresh, others browning away. Housekeeping was not essential. It was ok. It was nature reminding us how the cycle of life just recurs.
Still, I felt a deep sense of sadness as I walked to the gate. The beauty & silence were too soul stirring.
The walk to the supermarket was uneventful. The greengrocer across the road had one customer, the supermarket had 1 couple shopping. And then there was me. The store racks were in various states of organized disarray, the biscuit & instant noodles section was almost empty. In the midst of my sadness, my sardonic observation raised its tiny head. I remembered the ones who would preach about the wax and lead in Maggi noodles. I was left wondering, in times of crises, any food is better than no food, isn’t it?
Sigh… flexibility.
I wondered which biscuits & rusk my kids would want me to pick. I called my oldest to check, but he didn’t answer, so I picked a few of each and moved on.
I picked what I wanted. There was enough. I was picking a packet of curd when I heard the couple speak about stocking up because ‘who knows? People may come and take everything tomorrow!’ And they went on to pile their shopping cart with 8-10 packets of whatever it was they wanted to stock up on.
I looked at my shopping bag. I’d just picked one of everything I wanted to sustain us for about another week or so. I reckoned the initial panic wave had passed. I wouldn’t have to go through panic buying. I would be able to manage. I didn’t want to hoard. I wanted milk & asked if there was a limit to how many I could. He said there wasn’t.
I thought of privilege at that moment. I thought of how people overstocked. I thought of how people wasted. I remembered a conversation about how people were used to that lifestyle of seeing plenty on their table and also plenty wasted – a sign of having more than needed. I remembered those who wouldn’t even have that. The imbalance of privilege explained away with they have earned it so it is their way of coping.
All I can think of is, “The money is yours, the resources aren’t.” Resources are shared. The stories of people buying 6 loaves of bread and 36 packets of milk while their neighbors with kids couldn’t get even one loaf or 1/2 liter of milk!
Resources are shared.
I stocked for a conservative week. I reckoned I could go out again in 2 weeks to get something else. I figured we could have khichdi for a few days, rice & something else on others, soups, etc. I had already explained limitation to the kids. They were aware. They understood. They adjusted – as much as young children can, or should. Even if we, as parents, want to shield them from it.
As I was scanning the QR code to pay my bill, my oldest came running into the supermarket. He had tried returning my phone call and I hadn’t answered. My phone was on silent. I was focused on shopping & carrying the bag on my arm. He had used his spare key and come running to find me. In his own words, “Don’t ask what thoughts came to my mind when you wouldn’t answer my call! Just don’t ask!“
The fear and relief at finding me safe was evident in his 17 year old face. I was proud, I was touched, I was sad. He took the shopping bag from me. We walked back home making small talk, soaking in the quiet, taking in the missing people on the streets. Silently acknowledging our own connection.
Adversity teaches us much. Adversity teaches our children much. We learn about ourselves, how we cope, how we manage and how we improvise. It brings out our resilience and also our creativity to find solutions in the midst of that which we cannot control.
Have I really got my shit together? Well, I think I’ve got most of it OK, but sometimes it just falls flat (yes, that’s something to imagine!)… And I lose it sometimes too… These are crazy times for all of us. I have seen what I can do and I have seen us rise to the call.
Agility is what we’re called to demonstrate. Agility and empathy, compassion, understanding & humility.
We’re in this together – all of us. None of us have it all figured out. Yet, I believe that we will get through this. Some of us will make it through easier than the others, some of us may find it extremely challenging. Some of us may succumb to it. And that is a fact we cannot ignore. Yet, we will get through this.
Luvena's World 