The lockdown’s getting to me
5:45 am: My wife reads me a note from the RWA, “In view of rising coronavirus cases in the colony, walking on the roads and in the park is strictly prohibited.” 5:50 am: My wife says does the RWA expect the dog to do his business in the house. 6:00 am: She asks me what I’m still doing in the house. 6:10 am: The dog refuses to relieve himself on the roof. 6:30 am: I hope the mask will conceal my identity. 7:00 am: Message on my daughter-in-law’s friendly neighbourhood Whatsapp group, “Mr Singh was seen violating the rules and taking his dog for a walk.” 7:15 am: “I’m so embarrassed,” says my wife.
8:50 am: My son says he’s leaving for work. The cook gives him a packed lunch. The driver carries his laptop bag. His wife says she’ll miss him, will he take care of himself, here use some sanitiser, be back soon baby. 9:00 am: My daughter says she has a Zoom call in 15, she’s set herself up in her bedroom, can someone please organise her milk-shake followed, 15 minutes later, by breakfast (“two boiled eggs, sourdough bread toast with mayonnaise instead of butter, a bowl of freshly cut fruit, and no, repeat no, disturbance at all”). Her mother gives her a hug and a slice of cake. 9:30 am:
I tell my wife I’m going to the study for office work. 9:31 am: “Wait,” my wife says. 9:32 am: “Who’ll clean the fans?” she asks. 10:05 am: “Do you think the clothes will hang themselves in the cupboard?” 10:15 am: “I need a hand with the re-potting.” 10:30
am: Message from HR, “The management has taken serious note of your lack of punctuality when logging in for work.” 12:30 pm: My wife wants me to go grocery shopping. 12:31 pm: I demur, “Darling, there’s work...” 12:32 pm:
She wants to know why housework isn’t considered work. 12.33 pm: She tells me the driver is waiting with the car. 1:00 pm: The boss calls. 1:05 pm: A colleague messages to say the boss is pissed off. 2:00 pm: The driver says madam wants to know what’s taking so long. 2:48 pm: I leave the grocery out to sun in the balcony. 3:00 pm:
My wife says lunch is over, “This isn’t a langar.” 3:05 pm: I eat a packet of biscuits. 3:08 pm: I’m sick.
6:00 pm: The cook fetches me a cup of coffee and a tomato sandwich.
6:03 pm: My wife pops in to say she can see I’m living it up. 6:08 pm: My son comes back to a hero’s welcome. There’s quiche, pizza and chicken croissants for him. 6:40: My wife says isn’t her son wonderful, he works so hard. 7:20 My daughter winds up for the day. 7:40 pm: Her mother says she will share a bottle of wine with her daughter. 8:10 pm: My daughter-inlaw asks if I’d like a little something.
8:11 pm: My wife tells her, “He’s done nothing but shop and eat the whole day, he needs to go for a walk. 8:12
pm: She says the RWA needn’t know about it. 9:00 pm: Message from the RWA, “Mr Singh was seen walking on the road for the second time today.”
9:02 pm: “I’m so embarrassed,” says my wife, again.