Elephant in the room: How Covid-19 destroyed my solitude

Sharon Benjamin, Features Writer

I have a pet elephant. He doesn’t do much; he just stands on top of my chest and does what he’s told to do. My mind is his master, so naturally, there’s no one else he’d rather listen to.

I got him on April 25, 2020. A month after India declared the first lockdown. I was working in Chennai at the time and shared an apartment with my friend. Naturally, my friend booked her tickets to go back home [Kerala] before the lockdown had come into effect, and I ended up being the sole resident of the apartment.

The first few days went by like a routine. As the pages on the calendar kept moving, questions of ‘how are you?’, ‘what are you doing?’ became statements ‘if only you were here’, ‘I wish you had come home before the lockdown’.

Soon after the country had declared a curfew, I ran out the next day to walk to the nearest supermarket.

And that’s when it started to really sink in. I was alone. In the company of no one but myself. Slowly things started to escalate, three meals became one, and my neighbours took their travel passes and went home. I was just scared altogether. And it was, basically, because I was alone.

The nights were longer than usual, so eventually I just had my thoughts to keep me company. And they weren’t the kind of thoughts you’d want to hear when you’re alone. With each comment my mind made, my elephant got bigger and stronger. He was light at first and I could handle him, but as he grew bigger I found myself sinking into the ground beneath.

There came a point where all his feet were on my chest at the same time, and all I could do was cry about it. Past mistakes and decisions came flowing in; I lost my self-esteem. That was the first step. Over the next few days things went from bad to worse. It’s true what they say after all, an idle mind is a devil’s workshop.

A lot happened in those six months. With each ease

in lockdown, I quit my job, sent a cargo for all of my friend’s stuff and I vacated my flat.

“We got your visa. You’re coming home,” my mother exclaimed over the phone.

The wait was over. Six months and two weeks of solitude had finally come to an end. I felt like I could finally breathe again.

As for my elephant, most importantly, he has taken just one foot off my chest. And that’s made all the difference.

As the pages on the calendar kept moving, questions of ‘how are you?’, ‘what are you doing?’ became statements.”