She finished her dinner but decided not to go to the television set, like she did every day. The children had demanded vegetables in Schezwan sauce with rice tonight. The vegetable vendor did not have any red or yellow capsicums this morning. “Mandi bandh kar diya, madam. Lockdown to hai hi, upar se curfew. Sabzi kahanse layen? Ye sub bhi abhi khet se le ke aate hai [The market is closed, madam. Where to get vegetables in this lockdown, and now curfew? All these I get from the farms],” he lamented when she complained about the same old sabzi he had brought on his cart.
He had gone on for a while after that about life’s trials, but she had stopped listening. Her mind was on the creativity that would be needed to cook the evening meal as per demand. At the end of the day she was happy with her idea of coke with the Chinese-Thai gravy that kept the kids quiet. But she was not happy watching television these days.
She detested the news channels the most. The same images play again and again on the screen. Poor people without water in slums, safai karamcharis without protective gear, and worse – millions of hungry migrant labourers stranded half-way from home, or stuck in cities, dying without medical care and food, some committing suicide, and many protesting, demanding, rioting on the streets.
How long can one watch a spectacle of termites gone berserk? She goes back to WhatsApp, where friends in a group are showing off newfound culinary skills. She puts a picture of her own, from the dinner table. In another group, people are sharing videos of dolphins frolicking in the sea near Breach Candy club in Mumbai, flamingos in Navi Mumbai, the Malabar civet roaming on the roads in Kozhikode, Sambar deer in Chandigarh. Suddenly she sees a row of red ants crawling up her mobile phone…



