Remember, when we posted
selfies and self-care memes?
It was difficult to be alone.
When we had to go out, we tipped
autowalas and didn’t bargain over
the price of potatoes or fruit.
We were tempted to share
stories about our efforts,
but even then, we were
starting to feel uncomfortable
about performance. Some
of us worked from home,
some were put on unpaid leave.
We thought it was temporary,
and though we knew the Janta
Curfew was a symbolic drill,
held a month too late,
most of us secretly hoped
the government had a plan
or the weather would somehow
change things. Then came
the layoffs, and the pleas for help
from friends: first artists
and writers whose income
and savings had dried up—
that was easy; after all,
they were like family.
And when our neighbors
came asking for ghee and onion,
we gave and were glad to.
When we were called
to share water, atta and dal,
and when we began to see
terrible things on our screens,
and in the streets when we
had to venture out,
it became more difficult
than we’d imagined it
would be. We did not cover
ourselves in glory; yes,
we loved, but we also failed.
We are here on the other side now,
grieving and also rejoicing. We
are all here together; yes we failed,
but also we loved.