Letters To My Grandchild (Part 2)
2 April 2020
Dear Child,
Hope you read my first letter to you. If you did, you know I have been telling you the story of what we did when a microscopic being turned human lives upside down.
Today, I shall tell you how we felt about the lockdown in India. And what we did being confined to our homes.
In simple terms, lockdown meant that we had to stay indoors. At least, most of the time. Because we were allowed to venture out to buy vegetables and fruits, tablets and syrups, milk and curd. But for nothing else.
We were told, keep distance from one another. The virus could spread if we came in touching distance of an infected person.
Unlike in the Western countries, our government did not trust us to go out for walks and keep distance from others. How to maintain at least six feet distance when three people have to use the same walking track? We are just too many people, my child. For us, lockdown meant lock everything down.
Some were locked up inside their six-room bungalows. Some in their one-room shanties. We retreated to our two-bedroom apartment to stay put.
Until now, we had only seen advertisements asking us to come out and enrol in the army or navy to protect the country. Or telling us to come out and buy things to keep the wheels of the Indian economy churning. Or luring us to come out and experience beautiful places and feel proud of our country.
Now they were telling us the opposite. Stay at home to save the country from devastation, they implored. Some of us complied. That is, those of us who had the luxury of having a home and reaching it in time.
Others, the country discarded. Right in front of our eyes. Unapologetically.
Two days before the nation-wide lockdown, buses and trains had stopped plying. So, how would those who lived in temporary shelters (in cities) go home (to their villages)?
We didn’t need them anymore. We had stopped constructing homes and offices, roads and flyovers. We were not eating street food anymore. And we were not hiring rickshaws and taxis.
Why didn’t the leaders think of them in the first place, you ask? We are not in the habit of thinking about people who are not like us, my child.
If you were the leader of your class, you would do better if you knew that Priti has trouble walking, so needs help to get to the lunch area; and that Vibhu has trouble seeing the white board and needs to sit in the first bench; and that Manu always tugs at Pia’s hair so should be made to sit away from her.
Child, accommodating those that have less is an essential task of any leader. Just as in any calamity, in this one too, those who are least privileged were ignored.
Have you ever wondered what makes people want more money? You are right, they can get better looking clothes, food, houses and cars. All correct answers. But, the biggest reason for their desire to get rich is to avert exclusion.
No one wants to be discarded. Think of a world where those with no means would not be discarded. Would that be a less greedy world? (In subsequent letters, I shall talk about greed at length.)
Initially, everyone who was home rejoiced. It felt like paid leave. Some started posting pictures of home made cocktails throughout the day. Others of delicious dishes. Families played board games. Photo albums of yesteryear were brought down from attics, dusted off and flipped through. Random corners of the house dusted and washed.
But once they finished binge-watching that Netflix show or had exhausted the list of to-be-watched films, reality sunk in.
Seven days into the lockdown, complaints began to emerge from all quarters. Like ducks quacking from a pond. The 21-day lockdown was longer than they could handle, they protested.
Now is a good time to tell you about certain other lockdowns of the recent past, my dear. Those that were unjustified. That were harsher than the one we lived through.
Sit tight until tomorrow. It is a painful story, but one you should hear.
With love,
Yours,
