Link

       

         Sometimes, he felt as if he were in a dream. The road, contrary to its usual cacophonous and dusty demeanour symptomatic of a bustling medley of vehicles (and voices), wore a silent, almost sepulchral look. No horns being blown, no smoke to obscure the surroundings. Looking above, he could soak in the resplendence of the blue sky interspersed with white clouds as birds criss-crossed it with a revelous frenzy. The global crisis, he realized, had fortuitously wrapped the physical world with a veneer of serenity.  

          It was in class nine that he had first met the word ‘dichotomy’. While it had expectedly eluded his comprehensive ability, he was quick to seek the help of the English teacher, who, besides explaining its meaning, had added a supplementary, yet significant advice- ‘there’s nothing compared to a practical experience when it comes to grasping the meaning of a word.’ Standing on the threshold of his house, he couldn’t agree more. While the world outside exuded a certain degree of perfection rarely seen, conditions inside did not paint such a hunky-dory picture- quite the opposite, to be precise. His father, a migrant labourer as he was, had been stuck in a distant city for the last couple of weeks. Even as seemingly esoteric words like ‘pandemic’, ‘lockdown’ and ‘quarantine’ floated around him like bees bent on disturbance yet unwilling to leave, his mother finally pronounced the inevitable-‘ Your father hasn’t sent any money for the last one month. He was supposed to bring some this week but the police aren’t allowing them to leave. It’s time you earned some money.’ Her voice had started to waver by the time she reached the last few words. In response, he said nothing, and left the room. Silence, he realized, is the best, and often the only remedy for helplessness.

          Sitting under the flickering lamp, he turned on his phone and clicked open the WhatsApp account. The group titled ‘BSc. Chem 1^st Yr.’ was teeming with new messages. Evidently, the two audio lectures for the day had already been sent. Just as he opened the book and copy to condense them into notes to be read, and later reproduced, the sharp shout of his mother reached his ears-‘The municipal office is wanting some additional workers for the sanitization drive and you think studying is more important?’ Turning his ears impervious to the rest of her yells, he promptly closed the book, got up and headed for the municipal office.

         On the fourth day, the arduous labour began to take its toll on his health. Shuttling from house to house with the spray machine weighing down on his shoulders and incurring the wrath of the head official for the lightest of lapses, the pain racking his legs and shoulders now seemed a blessing in disguise. Taking out the copy, he managed to finish the assignment and took photographs of it to be sent to the professor. On clicking the send icon, he felt the slowly moving green line was taking ages to make the complete circle. In a flash, the underlying cause struck his mind. For a family where a single cellular data pack was shared by three members, this was an inevitability which he, with all his hard-nosed pragmatism built over years of unrelenting struggle, should have foreseen. Gradually, one by one, the worries began to stab him like arrows raining down on a person unable to budge, ingesting the pain. Father is absent. No money received. Mother’s attitude of helplessness turning to impatience. Lockdown implies no new work for mother, or for his brothers. He has to work for the municipal office. Classes being shirked. Chapters piling up. Waking up early to catch up. Exams lurking ahead. In short, no respite…

         A vertiginous dizziness gripped him. What’s the link of this all, he wondered. Looking down at the screen, he saw that the green circle which was about to complete had now turned into ‘RETRY’. Suddenly, a new message popped up. It was from one of his classmates. He promptly opened it.

        ‘ Exms for this semester will b online. The form is out. Have u got the link?’

         Heaving a sigh, he tried, but couldn’t type any word. After a few seconds, he just sent an emoji- thumbs up.