It hasn’t been a particularly salubrious time for me. I’ve been lying low ever since a darned family of viruses raided my immune system recently. Doctors ran a couple of tests and told me I am Covid-19 positive. I was also told that these invisible viruses, responsible for my present state of unease, are variously coronaviruses.
My already innervated body is trying hard to fight the stupid intruders. To top it all, a bug bit me — now I don’t know which one — under my eye, giving me a blubbery bad rash.
I think the pack of viruses — realising that their ungrateful host did not like a surprise visit — called for the villainous bug’s help to enfeeble me completely. Whatever it is — that is cooking up — I am sure it is a conspiracy against me. These cretins can be a dangerous lot, I tell you.
I was in India, this last week. It was a whirlwind tour, as my sojourns mostly are. Five days. Six nights. Like some Mediterranean cruise where people jostle to feed you, pamper you, fatten you. I think I have put on a little flab. It makes me feel guilty, like nothing else. India was good. Ever beautiful, serene and quiet.
Every time I visit the country — I see plenty of change. Yet things remain the same too. The same gossips. Same old stories, I’ve heard a thousand times and yet I listen to them again. I can’t reason, why? Midwives tales. Dull, drab afternoons.
The famous nip in the wind in the hills. The chill piercing your toes. The unsettling feeling. On the flight back to Delhi, as you see the majestic mountains of North India fade in the distance, you understand the sheer diversity of the land.
Delhi stopover
Among other cities, I stopped by in Delhi. The place is undergoing a huge shift in terms of new buildings and infrastructure. I met an ice-cream seller, Hari Prasad, who has been selling ice-lollies in Delhi’s famous Connagugh Place since 1989. I sat down on a bench in a park next to him.
The tale of Delhi’s transformation through the eyes of this quintessential street confectioner was worth my time. People walk more hurriedly now, he told me. It is as if the calm and relaxed days of the yore are forever gone. No one has time. It has become an ‘on-the-go’ world. People come and go.
I couldn’t agree more with Hari Prasad. Life indeed is one epic journey. We meet many interesting and not-so-interesting blokes on this trip. Some, we never think about again. Some, we wonder what happened to them. There are some that we wonder if they ever think about us. And then there are some we wish we never had to think about again.
I often caught myself thinking about the people I thought I loved or who loved me. Foolishly enough, every time we try find a reason to the heart’s furore, we fail to do so. However, in the most private realms of our mind, we soon realise it is only companionship, settlement, and physical compatibility. Not love. Not that sacred little thing.
Back in Dubai, I sleep — unconsciously fighting the virus-pack — subconsciously floating in my daffy dreams. Savouring in the delight of my heart’s sweet-ache. Yeah, Eyes.
Those eyes come to say something to me. I never understand what. I never may! Yet I love them. Is it sane to dream in our times? I think we dream so we don’t have to be apart so long. If we’re in each other’s dreams, we can be together all the time. Even in the age of the pandemic.
Ahmad Nazir is a Dubai-based freelancer
