It is Day 24 of strict home isolation for us here in
southern India and I’ve allocated some time from my busy schedule to generate a
blog entry. The original lock-down has been extended for another 2 weeks, until
the end of the month. It demands that everyone be inside unless collecting food
or medicine. Unlike Australia, there are no fines for breaking the rules. Here,
an offender will be beaten with sticks, then asked why they are outside. A year
in jail for a second offence. We have been advised not leave the house under
any circumstance, as westerners are seen as carriers of the virus and are
likely to receive less than favourable attention from authorities and the
community.
The main difficulties in being locked up are access to food,
water and money to purchase these, as well as pay rent. Up until now we have
been able to access food and water from our landlord and local delivery
services (as mentioned in Sonia’s blog). The issue of getting money has been
more of a challenge as we are reluctant to offer our credit cards and PINs to
relative strangers with directions to withdraw as much as they can. Hence...
the money run. On several occasions I’ve ventured out into the night cloaked in
long pants, shirt, hat and face mask. The closest ATM booths have ATMs that are
out of money, or there are people sleeping in them, so I need to hike a few
kilometres to get to the nearest operational one. I sneak through smaller
backstreets to avoid the main roads, roadblocks, and potential police patrol,
but just as the crows rule the day, it is the dogs that rule the night. Packs
of feral dogs, propagated from a historic mix of every possible species, wake
neighbourhoods with their constant aggressive barking as I tiptoe through
alleyways. The smaller lanes make it harder for me to keep an eye on them
coming at me from various immediate directions, so I’m often turning as I walk
up the street, stick in one hand and stones in the other.
The streets are almost as empty during the hot days of the
lock-down, as the dogs sleep. It must be strange for those daring locals who
travel through the day without the familiar pre-virus traffic. You could only
admire the typical way that people would fly through busy intersections on
motorbikes without even glancing at what traffic might be coming at them from
five other directions. They wouldn’t be wearing a helmet and be using a phone,
while carrying a sleeping baby, 20 litres of water, a caged chicken and tapping
away at their horn. All faith is put into their preferred God as well as the
volume and severity of their horn among all the other toots. When driving by
sound, hesitation is only required if someone is within 30cm of the front wheel
or if they hit something, with bigger, less immovable vehicles (such as buses)
getting priority. Every trip in an auto rickshaw (tuk-tuk) involves several
exciting moments of bracing for impact. Not even the potential of beating
Jessie at a game of cards comes close to matching that much excitement.
The days do go by surprisingly quickly and I’m enjoying the
forced peace and quiet. I get up when the body is ready, check news, cook
breaky / prep lunch, watch some footy, check & prep kids’ schoolwork, have
lunch, play cards, exercise, wash, Netflix, sleep... I sometimes wonder how I
ever had time for work in my life... Is this what retirement is like?
The first week was spent with a focus on keeping up with all
news virus related, crunching the numbers, considering implications,
forecasting trends… It all got a bit depressing, and since giving less shits
and shifting my focus to more positive things, I’ve felt more comfortable and
positive with the situation we are in.
It is a bit disappointing that we didn’t make it to Kerala
and that we might not make it to Europe when expected, but these places will
always be there for us to see another time. I’m not going to worry about things
I can't change and instead, make the most of the opportunities I’ve got. It’s a
bit selfish to be craving a cold beer when too many people around the world are
sick and dying because of this bug.
It’s a time to appreciate the small things. The joy of the
power coming back on is greater than the disappointment of it going out. The
huge bunch of curry leaves that comes with every order despite never ordering
curry leaves. 999 channels on the TV, but not one in English. The amazing
smells of spices frying, wafting in from neighbouring kitchens. Being able to
read a whole book in one or two sittings! And, eating 3 meals a day with a
cutlery draw containing only 6 spoons.
