Of A Young Daughter Stranded in the USA and Hope In a Pair of Pointe Shoes

A COVID-19 lockdown is a testing ground in more ways than one

In an Easter Vigil service reading from the Book of Genesis, a book from the Old Testament, is an account of the creation of the world. Every stanza ends with an “And there was evening and there was morning, the first day”, or the second or the third and so on. And that is how my days have been since the Government of India banned international flights from entering or exiting India on March 22nd, a ban that has continued through the three-week lockdown and will continue now through its extended phase. Days often weigh heavy on me, defined by darkness and light and not much more. Sometimes that darkness extends, way beyond it is meant to.

Many ask me what it feels like to have a daughter stranded in the USA. At a just-turned-20-years, what am I expected to say about her or me? The fact that there are thousands of others in a more hopeless situation than she is does not reduce the angst and worry I feel. When her University announced an early advisory for international students to return back home, she worked immediately to pack her dorm stuff and put it in storage, proceeded with the required formalities, and was all set to take a flight back on the 20th when the airline, for no explicable reason, cancelled her flight. The next day was when the international flight ban by India kicked in or else she could have been home, celebrating her 20th birthday with all of us. It felt so hard, so cruel. I remember wondering how I could reassure our distraught young daughter, 10,000 miles away, to have left Friday night on a flight now cancelled, facing an India flight ban that kicked in 22nd-29th March that she would be home soon. It was so difficult to be hopeful and positive. Then, when the lockdown was announced, further extending the ban, I was completely devastated. How would I now tell her that the little glimmer of hope we had all clung on to had temporarily faded away?

We speak every day, twice a day. At morning and at night, both hers and mine. Even as I counted my days, as I mentioned earlier, by darkness and light, hers were initially defined by leaves and flowers…tiny little feats of accomplishment. I would get up in the morning to a picture of a flower she had embroidered, or a leaf, or a strand of lavender. She had bought herself an embroidery kit and had taught herself to embroider. First on a pair of jeans and then, when she was done with that, on a t-shirt. As more leaves and flowers were done, and we both realised the ban was not going to get over in a hurry, it was tie and dye. She ordered a tie and dye kit and a few outfits to work with. I would wake up in the morning to pictures of a dress, a jumper, a t-shirt. And on another day, to her wearing it. Sometimes, she would do a bit of baking. And that was her day, every day until now online classes have begun.

But, through all of this, she has taught me stoicism and courage. On the day I told her about the lockdown and that she would have to hang in there a minimum of 21 days, I woke up the next morning to a picture of her beautifully painted nails…she had created her own cheer, adding a touch of colour and beauty to the world around her. When she knew she would not be able to make it home for her birthday, she gave herself a better birthday present than any of us ever could. She set up a crowdsourced fund to raise money for her favourite animal charity in India and was able to exceed her original target by 50%.

But there are tough days. Days when I wonder how long more the international travel ban will continue and if it will end in the near future. Days when I feel helpless. Days when she too feels low and miserable. Days when she asks me if I could please write to our Prime Minister, and plead on her behalf for her to come home, for him to take back the stranded students. It is difficult for me to explain to her that despite all that she sees and hears of — an Indian classmate of hers who tested positive for COVID-19 and was quarantined in her University dorm, of the number of increasing cases and fatalities of COVID-19 in the USA, of the various countries (Britain, France, Canada, Germany and why, even the USA) who are repatriating their citizens from India — it is unlikely that my letter will have any impact. But I will still try.

Now that online classes have begun post her spring break, studies and assignments will hopefully consume her time. Meanwhile, a few days ago, she wrote asking if she could buy a new pair of pointe shoes (she is a ballerina, having done ballet for 15 years). I would like to think that she will hang them on her bedroom door as a metaphor of hope, one that will remind her of ballet classes waiting for her when she gets back home, to Bangalore, to us.