Last night we had a fight. A big one. It was also that kind of a week you know. Many of you will not be surprised. As per several reports, domestic violence is snowballing at an alarming rate and its being predicted that divorce rates will be on an exponential rise post lockdown. Hell! What a terrible way to celebrate freedom from the cages of our homes!

But that is not why I felt compelled to write this blog today.

For all our disagreements and major showdowns, I hope and pray, we will stay together till death do us apart.

On that note, let me get back to the issue (pun-intended). In fact, since Covid-19 started terrorising the world, sometime during mid-Feb, I have been toying with the idea of writing a piece, but every time I rejected it. I felt I did not have enough information to write a serious essay, nor did I want to read the newspapers or tune-in to the news channels, just to be forced to face my biggest fear. There you have it. My biggest fear. I did not want to dwell on it, and for the longest time, I have been avoiding discussing it with anyone apart from a few close family members.

But the latest gossip on Priyanka Chopra changed my mind.

I woke up this morning, expecting to be in a bad mood. Obviously, all because of last night. I do suffer from these hangovers very often. But today, it was not so bad. As usual, the first thing I did was to turn on the Wi-Fi on my phones, check my Whatsapp messages, and then scroll through random articles that pop up on my newsfeed. There it was:

As I love looking at home décor I clicked on it. It was the stuff of dreams – clichéd I know. But I cannot find a better way to describe it. The space, the furnishings, the style – all perfect. I scrolled up and down, focusing on the details, and a sudden thought popped into my mind:

“Was it enough?”

Crazy, wouldn’t you agree? A sprawling mansion spread over three acres, fitted with amenities such as an indoor basketball court, two-lane bowling alley and a movie theatre. It was huge. To top it all, they had company. What more could they want? Or anyone else in their place?

A couple of weeks earlier, I was chatting with my mother over the phone, and we discussed how lucky we were to be living in fairly large places, as opposed to friends who were stuck in tiny studio apartments, or were completing their 14-day quarantine in small hotel rooms with fixed windows. My three-bedroom flat seems spacious in comparison, not to mention the condominium has an extensive garden area and a one-km circular walking track within its walls. We could safely take short walks for our daily dose of fresh air while maintaining the social distancing norms. On the other hand, my parents, living in a three-storied house, exercised on their terrace.

So, back to my question, what more could we want?

The answer is: More.

And the culprit is: Our mind.

As I recently learnt (we were perhaps aware of it, but only sub-consciously), in an online course that I am taking, called “The Science of Well-Being” (taught by Laurie Santos, from Yale University), that our minds have unique cognitive capacities. However, they also fall prey to them.

How?

By getting used to things / situations / conditions.

Therefore, the same things / situations / conditions do not make us happy after a while. Thus, we are constantly wanting more, or as Ms. Santos puts it, Miswanting. This leads to chronic unhappiness and stress.  The course goes on to describe ways to change our habits to sustain our happiness levels, but I am digressing.

So, the issue remains the same.

Hey, I am not belittling the trials of those under the poverty line, such as the migrant workers or the daily wagers. Yes, we have a roof over our heads, they do not. Their struggles are far worse than we can ever imagine. I am not blind nor stupid, so I am not denying it.

But here I am discussing an issue of a different kind. An insidious malaise which spares no one, no caste, no creed.

The malaise of loss.

And most importantly…

We say we have willingly caged ourselves at home. To protect ourselves, to protect our families. Sorry, it was not a choice. It was a decree. And perhaps the only way to win this war.

Without mobilising the armed forces, without dropping the bombs, without firing the guns, we are at war. With an invisible enemy – The Covid Mania.

It is The Third World War.

A war like no man had heard of but had threatened to gain control.

We are finally experiencing the aftermath of an unintentional biological warfare.

A virus that was born in a tiny village no one had heard of, has the power to force me to lock myself in my house. Forced me to socialise only over video calls. Forced me to go crazy with worry for my aging parents. Forced me to cry.

It has the power to force me to face my biggest fear.

Claustrophobia.

I hate closed spaces. At least I thought I only hated them. But now, it is not my bedroom which is an enclosed space, it is my entire flat, it is the entire condominium, it is Singapore. And if the circuit-breaker continues, the entire world.

For it is not a small space, that triggers the fear, it is the lack of choice of movement. I know it now. I feel it now. But I also know I will handle it. Because in truth, my life has been restricted to my house since I shifted to Singapore. I worked at home. I worked from home. Although I have always lamented the lack of a proper job, in hindsight, I think God has looked after me in His Grand Scheme of things.

Moreover, the online course has helped bring my stress into perspective. I am on an everlasting journey to increase my happiness. To quote a friend, “The fight is within and without.”

For this virus has also the power to bring about change.

A change in the speed with which we rushed through life.

A focus on what one should value.  

A halt to our ever-increasing greed.

A burgeoning global appreciation for the planet Earth.

But will it be a permanent paradigm shift?

The pessimist in me, says “Kutte ki dum thedi ki thedi hi rahe ti hai!”

The optimist says, “There is always a light at the end of the tunnel.”

One thing I know for sure. We need to fight. We need to focus. We need to remember:

This too shall pass.

And life should never be the same again.

For I hope I will not take for granted (a conscious choice, a practice of appreciation, a habit of feeling grateful for):

The privilege of living in a safe, healthy, spacious environment.

The privilege of flying to India to visit my parents, my precious home.

The privilege of buying anything we want, when we want.

Hosting an elaborate dinner for friends, labouring over the menu, shopping for fancy groceries.

Dressing up for a party, laughing over silly jokes, dancing into the night.

Relishing my favourite non-veg meal at a busy restaurant.

Yet I hope to forget (remember, the mind gets used to situations and so it does not affect us as much as it did initially):

The nervous tension within, every time I step out.

The perpetual look of fear and distrust on friends’ faces.

The constant ringing of the phone – the endless discussion on the virus – and the incessant dire predictions.

As we prepare ourselves to ease-in freedom of choice back into our lives, we also prepare ourselves for the “new normal”. Oh, how I dislike the term with a childish peevishness!

I liked the old. Or did I? I no longer know.