THE FIVE KINDS OF LOCKDOWN DAYS

From the blissful to the bleak, a catalogue of our summer in isolation

We’re now deep into the Age of Lockdown, and if we’ve made this far with relative luck, we’ve also more or less adjusted to the situation. But ‘adjustment’ is a flighty bird. It flutters and frets, leaving you calm one minute and clammy the next. Here’s a snapshot of the different kinds of lockdown days – your starter list for a far longer and more customised compilation.

THE EUREKA DAY

We’re living under laboratory conditions, and the experiment sometimes yields transcendent bliss. A-ha moments that offer us a glimpse of life, the universe and everything in one fleeting moment. They make you rise above the petty theatre of everyday life to a higher realm of detachment. You decide to counter slurs with smiles, provocation with politeness. You even decide to return to a longabandoned artistic pursuit, like singing harmonies or knitting tea cosies. Music flows out of taps and holy smoke from kettles. You’re Julia Roberts in the Pray section of Eat, Pray, Love ,or Aamir Khan in Three Idiots. Warning: you’re floating so high, you might give yourself altitude sickness.

THE CARPE DIEM DAY

I fear these more than I fear an elaichi in a biryani. Somewhere between the waking of the sun and of the birds, it strikes. A gong that sounds in your head and springboards you out of bed. You’re buzzing before you’ve sipped caffeine, motivated before yoga. You finish your morning chores and get to your laptop before the clock strikes 8. By noon you’ve caught up with all work mails, made lunch and cleaned the loft you haven’t peeped into since the week you moved into the flat five years ago. By teatime, you’ve ironed all your clothes, written a poem and called your mother. Everything’s done and it’s still daylight. By bedtime, you’ve regaled all Whatsapp groups, bleached all your discoloured clothes and finished the remaining 150 pages of an Orhan Pamuk novel. Scary.

GROUNDHOG DAY

The day that looks like every other lockdown day. Like in the Bill Murray film, you realise you’re stuck in a time warp, doing the same thing over and over again – a rat in a wheel or a sitcom in its seventh season. Everyone around you seems to be okay with the way things are, prompting you to question your own sanity. The term déjà vu reveals its sinister qualities to you, making you wonder about rebirth and eternal recurrence. But you’re too tired to philosophise. And too scared to talk about it. So it’s yet another chai, and yet another brain-melting Zoom call followed by yet another rerun of Friends. You pick up the phone and see 118 unread messages and somehow can guess what each one of them says. I wish you a speedy escape!

THE LOST DAY

A kind of day that wakes up scowling and goes to bed howling. From burnt toast to stubbed toes, your cupful of woes runneth over. Meltdowns and mishaps, rage and regret, it’s like the mixed tape from hell. You try to plug a hole and end up drowning. At some point, you make a frantic call to a kindred spirit, but they’re so busy waiting for their sourdough bread to rise, you fake a laugh and say you’ll call later. You reach for the fridge for solace, but leave the door open; two hours later, the entire house smells of fried fish and deep remorse. As you google refrigerator fixes, you realise the mosquito net has a mouse-shaped hole in it, not far from where the resident lizard lounges. You give up on the day and give yourself over to Animal Planet.

THE PSEUDONORMAL DAY

YOUR HAIR’S A MESS, BUT LOOK AT THE ECONOMY. THE WORLD IS ABSURD,

BUT DID YOU EXPECT OTHERWISE?

The kind of day that begins on time, does what it’s told and ends without drama. It’s filled with light exercise, engaging work, happy diversions and cheering food. You look out of the window and see empty streets, but they don’t fill you with dread. The rotis you roll turn out almost circular. You’ve managed to outwit the mouse that had occupied your brain, and you’re enveloped by a general sense of well-being despite everything. Your hair’s a mess, but look at the economy. The world is absurd, but did you expect otherwise?

And there’s the salesman at the grocery store reminding you to do the little things well with his masked smile.

how I am feeling.’ I know this sounds a bit morbid, but that’s exactly what I felt.

How wonderfully heart withering and vulnerable that film was for me!

THE WIZARD OF ALL

I remember a phase when the sentiments of those books got to me, to the point where I deliberately started reading detective novels to avoid emotional impact. The Bourne Identity was one of the bestsellers at that time and I got hooked again. That was when Ray’s fictional detective character Feluda appeared on television, I think. I was aghast. Could this man do everything? Should I not watch any other filmmaker? Would it be healthy to be spellbound by another master?

Such was his shadow while I was growing up. And mind you, I am not a Bengali. I didn’t even grow up in Bengal. I don’t even speak the language. Hell, I was not even that big a film buff at the time. What was this man turning me into?

Then I saw Goopy Gyne Bagha

and there was no more point of return. Satyajit Ray was my hero. Cinema was my obsession.

It’s my first Zoom interview and a few collywobbles are granted, I suppose. At 12.30 pm sharp, I join the meeting and begin to hurriedly fix my hair as the icon for Nimish Shah, the creative director of the clothing brand Bhaane, appears on my phone screen.

“Can you hear me? How do I still not know how this works?” I hear, and even before I can offer my amateurish directions, the smiling face of the youngster, clad in a purple tee, pops up.

“Amazing, how cool!” chimes Nimish and after our eureka moment, I learn that he’s quarantined at a friend’s house (just as I am at my sister’s!).

A London College of Fashion (LCF) alumnus, Nimish, 35, has made it to top publications like Vogue India, Grazia, Verve and Architectural Digest to name just a few. Having grown up in Mumbai, after completing junior college from Mithibai College he went to London to study product development and design for fashion industries. He worked at Chloe in Paris and then moved back to London and joined Burberry. Next, he worked for smaller brands in England before moving to Mumbai, where he ran a multi-brand store called Muse in 2009 and helped Sabyasachi Mukherjee set up his first store.

In 2018 Nimish joined Bhaane, and his unique design aesthetic as creative director for Anand Ahuja and Sonam Kapoor’s brand has been the talk of the industry since.

“Muse was an amazing opportunity, better than my job in the UK, and it gave me a great exposure in the market,” says Nimish. “Tarini Jindal (who opened the fashion store Muse in Mumbai) really pushed me to set up my own brand. Assisting with Sabya’s store was a time bound contract with the associate company. It was a great to observe Sabya.”

“MY DAD IS A GANDHIAN, SO AS LONG AS THERE WAS ACADEMIC TRAINING INVOLVED [IN STUDYING FASHION], HE WAS OK. MUM DID

HESITATE FOR HALF A DAY…”

Why is Nimish Shah’s Instagram handle @nimishshift?

FASHIONABLE BEGINNINGS

Coming from a family of textile printers and traders, Nimish’s interest in fashion began when he was around 15-16 years old. “Fashion imagery – magazine and graphics – excited me, including a certain Air India calendar,” he says. “But I was clueless about what it meant to work in the fashion industry. My parents are

“I did not take Instagram seriously at all and made that account while waiting for tea at Yoga House. And at the time everything I did and all POV was for my fashion label Shift. It just caught on!”

far from fashion. I think even I am not fashion enough.”

Still, from early on, he knew he wanted to study design, so there was clarity of career always. “My dad is a Gandhian, so he did not blink an eye, as long as there was academic training involved. Mum did hesitate for half a day, but I think she was okay about it very quickly,” he says.

Now Nimish is being touted as the next big name in design in