Lockdown Day 5: The Calm Before the Storm

It’s eery quiet in our South Delhi neighborhood.  A few motorcycles out, rushing for a necessity or to the hospital—the only places open. I’m perched on our bedroom balcony next to the washing machine and drying lines, towels and rags waving in the afternoon sun next to me. I never come out here on this back alley, but since we’re not allowed outside the house (5^th day of 21 right now) and I know well my need for vitamin D and a view of trees, I’m taking advantage of this western side.

Some say this lockdown will go for another month. Others say up to six months, before the pandemic actually peaks. They said that there was no intercommunity transmission but we all know they were testing less than 1% of the population and had no clue who has it or how exactly it was transmitting.

It’s hard to know what to expect and what to fear, especially based on the diverse way that the corona virus has spread through, say, China, Italy, and the US.  We do know that now all international travel is shut down, with no commitment to when Americans can enter or exit again, and obviously our business (tourism and study abroad) will be devastated financially. I can’t even begin to think about it too hard before we get an idea of how long this is going to go. Not only here, but in the US.

More tangible emergencies relate to possible running out of vegetables and rations as a feeble infrastructure faces unprecedented problems, and starvation of daily laborers who rely on working day to day in order to eat. Potential problems like an uprising of the poor if they are not provided for by a government who has prohibited them from working. Emergencies like lack of power, water, infrastructure. Right now we have all these basics. We do not have online delivery sites. We don’t have cheese, olive oil, or sliced bread. But we still have rice and lentils and butter and veggies. We even found a milk distributor that delivers to us each morning such yummy fresh cow milk, I can’t believe I didn’t know about Whyte Farms before!

So there is a strange sense of normalcy though we know friends in other towns who haven’t seen food trucks come for days. For us, I feel, it’s the calm before the storm. Maybe we’ll be sitting pretty in the capital as we ride this storm out, blockaded from neighboring overcrowded localities, sheltered from hunger, outrage, and possibly the virus. But in such an interconnected system as India, it’s unlikely.

So what does one do in that eery calm moment before the unknown?

I keep my eyes open for signs of what is coming. And I cherish this time.

I thank God for this respite, however long it lasts. I thank God for such peace, such calm, such exorbitant family time, creative time, confidence-boosting, homesteading type of time. It’s been nothing but good for the four of us, and I know it’s been good for my family back home. Maybe quarantine was what we needed more than anything else we thought we thought we needed.

The air quality today is 52 AQI.  It has never dipped been under 100 in Delhi since we moved here two years ago. I can’t get over the breeze, the budding flowers and the warm sun that hasn’t yet turned deathly hot. It’s almost April and I’m sitting on a balcony breathing deep and listening to the birds, to the neighbor’s music through an open windows, to the kids yelling and playing as they have PE with Dad on our terrace.

The sheer amount of time we have had as a family is mind-blowing. It is more than we have had since we married. With less agenda, less stress, less rush. Every day we clean the whole house, the dishes, the balconies. We wait for the veggie cart in the morning, waiting to see if he comes yet one more day amid a national logistical crisis. We eagerly buy up fresh veggies for the day. We clean them and cook everything fresh. I’ve learned to make rice and kidney beans in a pressure cooker by myself, to roll out tortillas and blend up fresh salsa. We teach the kids their lessons sent to us each night by their teachers. A mandatory quarter of homeschooling I would have balked at if I had any warning.  And then we clean up more dishes and pots and pans and the kitchen floor (we are messy cooks!). We collapse into bed tired but happy. Yes, these days have been an unexpected gift to us.

And the last thing I’m thankful for: I’m writing again.

Whether I post it or send it or do nothing with it, the point is that I’m thinking and processing and breathing long enough to write. God bless my wonderful husband who takes the kids to the patio to jump around for 45 minutes, and the apartment can be dead silent. While I notice my tolerance for togetherness growing, I still adore the silence.