Unlock the Lockdown!

Unlock the Lockdown!
( A letter to my daughter Ninni)
Dear Ninni,
These are the days of lockdown! Coronavirus has crept into our country, city, society, buildings and we stay huddled in our homes most of the time! You too play those strange games in Tab and listen to those strange songs, day and night! Your so-called wanderlust mom too initially blown apart by lockdown, cringed and fretted but then you learn to love what you have, once you find out ways to deal with it! We all dealt with it in ways we could find.
This post isn’t about to lockdown though. Lockdown, Corona would be etched in your memory. Online classes, sessions with friends and as I see you growing tall all within the four walls as if you almost are going to miss a year of your life. But then we do not know what lies ahead, global warming, pollution, would there be air to breathe, would there be life as we call normal, we do not know really. At this stage being alive and healthy in our country seems an accomplishment.
People are doing wonderful things in the lockdown. Facebook is flooded with posts of exotic food, jaw-dropping paintings, dance, music what not and finishing all household chores deftly as well. The first few days I was at loss. I slept, slept and slept more, barring a few chores, slept through the day! Then gathering myself a bit, juggled between books, a bit of cooking or chores, a bit of exercise, unlimited time in mobile marveling at others’ feats and life wasn’t so bad after all. Holidays, vacations, socializing weren’t as important as they seemed on social media and the beauty of doing nothing was setting in.
There wasn’t any dearth of time, though we used to have long talks earlier as well, My and your grandma had longer talks these days. All mundane regular talks, what to cook, what to eat, what my neighbours did, what my masis worked at and lots of reminiscing of bygone days! Of grandma and aunts, of childhood days when I used to throw huge tantrums, and gradually conversation would drift to those uncomfortable genres, ‘You were so spoilt, look at your daughter, she isn’t like you!’
‘Yeah, OK, let me hang up.’ I would shift uncomfortably, then she would add ‘OK, I wasn’t so lovey-dovey, you were so scared of me!’ Then as I would relax a bit, would come to the smash ‘ You were impossible though’.
Conversations would linger, reflections, music, movies, relatives, Baba being withdrawn in his world of books, sports with an ailing ear, my handsome brother’s photo being rejected here and there, we would talk and talk.
With time immense, catching up with an old friend, ignited some memories of the late eighties, when Baba was posted at Goalpara. The quaint little town, with the mighty river and hills, was my grazing ground. Not at all aware of the realities lurking around, I used to roam around the town with friends, whose parents let them. Ma being busy with infant brother, I almost knew the little town, its lanes, road to the river, the club where my father played table tennis and quite well at that, the dreamy road to circuit house, the tower up the hill.
‘How I let you wander like that’, Ma would ponder, some guilt and some dread at the possibilities thirty-two years back.
Then memories working overtime, I could recall all the names of the roads, shops, the directions, the people I knew, the names we called them, Baba would have some fictional names for all. Friends I had, things I tried to do, from being Famous Five to emulate Steffi Graf (Not to be disclosed how). Then it was confession time and I disclosed, first to you and your father, then to your grandma, well I was a little younger than you when I watched the first movie with my classmate without telling anyone of course! The movie was Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak, which after much persuading Baba had taken me to watch, then why I…? Just we wanted to watch again so me and my classmate, one fine day amidst all the long walks we had, I don’t remember how we gathered the funds, might be I saved money from rickshaw fares and we barged into Kalpana Cinema Hall with hearts beating fast. The rest of the movie passed by incident-free, except for the man sitting by my side staring hard or pushing slightly with the elbow, we were too dazed to be bothered with something so trivial! Aamir Khan and Juhi Chawla painted our world for us, though I remember my classmate was not promoted to sixth class and might be her parents enrolled her in a different school. Me too guilt-ridden and with the gory realities I was vis a vis with, hushed our adventures and tried not to remember. Though picture postcard of Aamir Khan in a white jogging suit, the sun behind was tucked safely in the last page of LIC diary I got from Baba, important to tell you here good boxing I got in my ears as Baba discovered the postcard!!
Finally, the cat was out of the closet, and my Ma howled,’ How could you!! You were just ten then! How did I not know! Why did I let you!’
The year was 1988, and I still didn’t know why I did or how I could. Certainly not proud of myself and the man next to me pushing elbows, but then it was done. Yes, you may say or your grandma would say I did take advantage of all the freedom they let me have unless I was scared stiff of the world around and would think of cringing in my home and not venture out.
Your wanderlust mom still has it in her, the seeds of freedom sown in childhood you cannot let go. My soul still takes flights, my mundane body as well, be it through books or travel websites or those trips with friends. And as I reflect, your grandma and I shudder at those possibilities, both have our souls loaded with guilt but then since when I wanted to be perfect there remains still a lot of things I have done, which technically I must not have. Accepting help, guilt isn’t necessary, sometimes we do things unaware, sometimes we know fully yet tread into paths that do not make much sense. Yes, I know it was only a movie I watched, you have access to almost all the movies of the world, this hardly makes any sense also this twelfth-floor balcony does not give you much idea of roaming in woods, riverbank, climbing the lovely green hill. Yet your world is beautiful, all entertainment at your fingertips, hardly any curiosity or prying in the adult world.
Make your memories, make your mistakes. Life isn’t about being perfect. Would love to listen thirty-two years hence and wonder how I let you! Preserve your guilt, love yourself, unlock the lockdown and rock on!
Love
Yours Ma
Soma Bhattacharjee