We're only Passers-by

It was 1:30 A.M on a rainy Wednesday when I woke up to the tingling sound of a thermometer. I'm a light sleeper, I've always been one. I followed the sound and walked to the other side of the hallway where mama lay on the couch – her skin hot to the touch and her eyes a bit teary. I could make out that she was trying her best to hide the fact that she was in a lot of discomfort, and also a little terrified. 

It'd been two days since papa and my sister had come down with fever- a high-grade one. And now it was her. I handed her an acetaminophen and a glass of lukewarm water to gulp that down, then I helped her walk back to the bedroom. As I tucked her into bed, I could sense the tension in the air. "You'll be alright Ma, everyone will. Goodnight. I love you!" I said and then headed back to my room. How easily I'd told her everyone would be fine. Good god I hoped everyone would be.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was think about how the pandemic had turned everybody's life upside down. And as much as I didn’t want to believe that the virus had finally crept into our lives, it had. A couple days later, everyone in my family, including me, tested positive for COVID-19.

 The following week was tough. It was, without a doubt, the most miserable I had ever been- more so, emotionally. And although we were amongst the fortunate ones to have what's referred to as 'mild symptoms', the stubborn voices in my head just weren't willing to give up. The news wasn't any better. It wasn’t helping either. Sleepless nights full of angst and scary 'what-ifs' surely did make me lose sight of the bigger picture. And fear- do you know what the worst kind of fear is? It's the fear of losing someone you dearly love; the mere idea of them losing the battle to something so uncertain, and to 'not' be able to help. While none of my fears turned into reality, surprisingly, for me, a strange counterpart to fear became guilt. For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why I'd been feeling the way I was. Now that I think about it, maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was in distress despite having recovered, when there were people out there with incomparable losses. Well, I guess that's what life is – unfair to some, biased to the others, but in the grand scheme of things, nothing but a mystery.

For quite a bit of time, I felt disconnected. And maybe for a while there, I wasn’t at my best. Well, I didn’t even try to be. I wasn’t willing to acknowledge all the little reasons to be happy. I didn’t want to confide in anyone. I was ashamed because I couldn’t help but feel ungrateful. For someone who has always been an absolute aesthete, I didn’t want to seek sanctuary in art either. And I didn’t know anymore – how to embrace minimalism or to find happiness in little things like air, sleep, prayer, or simply just a new day to start over, maybe? The concept, in its entirety, felt dull.

Well, that was then, and this is now.

I stepped out after what felt like ages today. The sidewalk seemed different, a little strange, I’d say. But, in a good way. The air never felt so good. Was it quieter? More fragrant? I’m not sure. But I took in every bit of the goodness of it. And when I looked at the trees, I really watched them sway to the songs of the wind. And as I walked, I really felt the misty grass crawl between my toes. Had the sun always been so warm and endearing? I sat down and as I leaned against a tree-trunk, I watched the sunlight pierce through the leaves to create mysterious shadows. For the first time in a while, I felt liberated. I felt strong. I felt hopeful. And maybe that's what too much sun after a long seclusion does to you. It makes you feel strangely powerful, even when you aren’t. It makes you perceptive to the beautiful things lying in the most unexpected places, even in the places you weren’t willing to search at all. 

It wasn’t until today that it occurred to me how much I'd been yearning to let go. And so, I let my lungs inflate with acceptance and contentment. As I sat there, under the clear sky, surrounded by the beautiful, gigantic trees, all of my problems seemed inconsequential. It was then that I realised life was nothing, but a series of unprecedented events- both big ones and small. The small ones however, helped us uncover the big ones, and so, if not more, they were equally important. I wished I'd realised sooner that, we're all only just passers-by in this melancholic-at-times, yet colourful world; that, living is easier when we take each day as it comes - one day at a time. And when the daunting times would come, I decided I would close my eyes and simply let the warmth of the sun remind me of love, of possibilities and hope. All it took was a peaceful sunny morning, for me to realise that life was much more than just the angst caused due to the past, or the anticipation of the future. Life in its entirety, was about simply existing in the given moment; about simply just being there - breathing through the beautiful, yet uncertain journey.

I stepped out after what felt like ages today and every moment felt significant. There I was, awed by the treasures I had found in those little moments. It was beautiful, truly. And then I thought to myself. “So this is how we genuinely enjoy the little things in life- by stopping to think of it as a ‘cliché’.”