‘What day is it?’

My son sitting quietly on the chair in my room smiled, and then laughed; Friday, he said.

I felt quite like Phileas Fogg, of Around the world in 80 days, when I awoke today from an eight-day covid-induced fog. For someone passionate about not wasting time, the loss of so many days would have been catastrophic. I was happy that I could sit up. Of course, the idea that ‘my’ world was able to function without my expertise and effort is so galling that I may just take to bed again!

It is amazing what all we are capable of. The home ran well – family and friends pitched in every way, the other sick people recovered, business functioned as well as possible in these times thanks to the wonderful people – both colleagues and clients, the rest of the world kept turning. As I moved in and out of a fever-induced stupor for over a week, I found time to worry. Not so much for my mortality but for the inconvenience and hassle it would cause if I needed to be hospitalized. I wondered why I had not formally written a will; why I worried so much about a clean house; why I was always hassled with getting things done. As I was cared for and nurtured with so much affection by my workaholic husband, I wondered about those who were sick alone and wished they had someone around them. I was glad to have the children around – I did not have to worry about them. I was glad that other family members were well and those not so, were recovering. I am grateful for the wishes and affection of an army of friends, family, neighbours, colleagues, and notably, the helpers whose selfless devotion never fails to make me feel so rich. I am sad and tired but grateful.

As I looked at the world from my terrace this afternoon, the silence was deafening. The bloom of the bougainvillea and the solitary peacock in the park accompanied by the cacophony of birds rise against the general despondency in the environment. The sense of déjà vu is there but this time, there is a difference. There is fear in the atmosphere and a sense of giving up. Too many have been sick and too much lost. But we cannot give up. People are recovering. There is an army of doctors and health providers working tirelessly to cure others. We shall prevail. We will support and do what we can. We must bloom like the bougainvillea despite all odds.