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Coronadiary, Coronavirus, Diary, home, India, lockdown, nostalgia, reflections, Shimla

Reflections as I enter the 29th day of lockdown amidst the Coronavirus pandemic in India.

A spring leaf in my balcony today morning.

As I close my eyes in self-isolation, I recall the last time I was home in Spring. I recall butterflies and ladybirds making their way past our balcony. I’d stand out in the sun, fresh out of a hot water bath and towel dry my wet hair. It would be a Sunday. No school day. Waking up late day. And sitting in the sun for hours day.

As I close my eyes in self-isolation, I realise that I had no dreams of a world outside of Shimla then. The boundary of the hills were as far a life I had known. My imagination was filled with those wild purple flowers that marked the onset of my birthday month, the warm breeze that would turn cold as the evening approached, the dark green pines and oaks around our house, and my mother.

As I close my eyes in self-isolation, I see myself going back to almost two decades. I wonder what I thought of life when I stepped out in the same balcony where I stand right now? Did I know that one day I would miss spring so bad that only chance to feel it again would come after twenty years?

As I close my eyes in self-isolation, I feel my younger self in an older body. I feel the onset of spring. Of warmth. Of butterflies and ladybirds. Of childhood. Of longing. Of seven year old me, with a glass of milk, guarding our wet clothes from monkeys. Having no sense of time or energy or the world. Of being fully where I was – in my balcony or on our roof.