The deserted street outside my apartment complex feels like a scene straight out of a horror movie. With just a few people walking silently or speaking in whispers; with masks on their faces and suspicion writ large in their eyes; with all but two shops open for the public with a depleting stock of grocery and medicines, and eerie stillness in the air, it feels like déjà vu.

 

Which movie does this look like? I wonder as I quicken my steps to the chemist to buy my meds and hurry back home. I wish to stay safe, but the cool air outside feels so inviting. It’s been four days since I stepped outdoors.

 

India is on a 21-day lockdown. I am sure there will be more in the future, but in phases, to ensure people don’t get panicky.

 

Staying cooped up at home 24X7 isn’t new to me; it’s a way of life. But this kind of isolation is alien to me, as is the virus that caused it. Claustrophobia stifles me. But anxiety terrorizes me, too.

 

I enter the shop, place my order and stand away from the counter, with my hands behind my back. I get impatient as the chemist takes some time to locate my meds and write me the bill. Without wasting an extra minute in small talk with the chemist, I pay the guy, pick up the paper bag gingerly for fear of ‘it’ crawling onto my body, and leave the shop hastily to hurry home.

 

Unlocking the door with the paper bag held in a pinch between two fingers of my left hand along with the door handle, and the key in my right hand is an exercise in dexterity. But I succeed. I enter the house and dump the bag of meds and the keys on the dining table. I then hurry to get out of my clothes and have a bath.

 

Terror and panic seldom leave my side nowadays. Washing my hands like one possessed has me wondering if I am losing it. I open the fridge to place the milk packets in and wash my hands, vigorously; I load the washing machine with the day’s laundry and scrub my hands; I touch any and every surface and scrutinize my palms.

 

Of course, I know what I am looking for is not visible to the naked eye, and yet, I gaze at my hands as if under the microscope, wondering how many germs land on them each time I touch something…anything. How I wish the virus had been visible – something like those creatures in countless Hollywood films on the alien invasion. Saving our lives from the clutches of such a virus would have been so much easier, isn’t it? Do I sound like I have already lost it?

 

And, amid all this chaos, the loneliness is taking its toll, too.

 

It hasn’t been a stranger to me. On the contrary, it’s an ally that helps me work and live in peace on other days. These days, though, I crave company. The isolation, the anxiety, the depression, the panic, all of it leaves me scared, worried.

 

At a time, when I yearn for a warm and comforting hug from hubby, I wonder if it would be right—we have been instructed to practice isolation, isn’t it? My heart flutters as I take a step towards hubby, but my fear pulls me back. “Hug yourself,” it seems to suggest.

 

Am I stressing a bit too much? Rather, should I be stressing a bit more?

 

I oscillate between hope and despair.

 

Someday, it will be over and we can go back to living life the way we did before it all began – I assure myself. And, then I wonder if I am hoping a bit too much. Everything about life is uncertain, especially today. We can’t even be sure if we will be alive when all of this madness will be over. And, if it will ever be over!

 

Thankfully, I don’t have any nightmares these days. Maybe there will be soon.

 

Like the time when I would dream of walking towards mom’s home and losing my way. Reaching for my phone to call her up, I would realize I had forgotten her number and hubby’s number, too, whom I would try to contact, desperately. To top it, I would find I had lost all the numbers from the contact list and the screen had gone blank. I would suddenly feel too drowsy to keep my eyes peeled as I tried crossing the road amid heavy traffic in the middle of the night!

 

The nightmare was a common occurrence a couple of years ago. Over time, though, I started to sleep better. And today, although I sleep peacefully, my waking moments are rife with anxious thoughts; fears that creep into my mind like a horrid looking centipede crawling up the bark of a tree.

 

With all that we do today—washing hands, staying isolated, wearing masks, staying positive and hopeful, connecting with near and dear ones over video calls—we should be fine, but despite it all, what will be our mental and emotional condition in the near future is anybody’s guess.

 

Are you and I sailing in the same boat?