Of quarantine and privilege

It’s increasingly becoming difficult to picture what the world would be like when we finally get out of this.

It’s increasingly becoming difficult to keep anxiety at bay. Or even worse, the indifference.

It’s increasingly becoming difficult to assign meaning to the days spent morning to night between office work, cooking, washing utensils and cleaning the house.

It’s increasingly becoming difficult to ignore the privilege we take for granted.

I see social media flooded with countdown to 21 days, and I wonder how people think that this will actually be over in that period, and that on day 20 a further extension won’t be announced. There are random challenges ranging from fitness to putting up pretty pics and tagging people. Everyone’s putting up pictures of what they’re cooking – often fancy things with ingredients that may soon run out. And then there is news about the crores of Indian’s left without a means of income. Of lakhs of people walking home, social distancing the last thing on their mind.

This disease was brought into the country by the privileged – people who could afford to step out of the country for work or pleasure. And yet, I wonder who is the one really suffering.

I’m not judging the social media posts, heck, I’m contributing to that instead of spending time writing or doing something productive. I guess we’re all dealing with it whatever best way we can – and given the current situation, that’s just fine.

Sorry, this was just a super morose and uninteresting read wasn’t it? I’ll try harder next time. Actually, fuck it, you know I won’t. This isn’t Instagram, you know. I don’t need to pretend.