One Hundred And Fifty Days Of Solitude

Sakuntala Narasimhan reflects on staying in since March 2020; isolating and trying not to be lonely. 

The last time I went out of my flat was on March 12, after which successive lockdown impositions decreed that citizens should stay indoors to prevent exposure to virus infection. Elderly persons like me — I am 80 –are supposed to be particularly vulnerable.

Age brings a host of problems, physical as well as non-quantifiable ones – memory loss, forgetfulness, short attention spans. I have poor vision in one eye after a botched cataract operation, and cannot read much; I also have partial hearing loss, due to a middle ear problem; even a hearing aid will not help, and I cannot listen to music to pass the time. If I cannot read, cannot listen to music, and am forced to stay indoors thanks to the virus pandemic, how do I divert myself? How do other elderly citizens cope?

Once upon a time, long ago, before the pandemic, a short and leisurely walk to a nearby park, clutching a stick, used to help to get through the evening hours, sitting on a bench in a small patch of greenery and just watching passersby, or nodding to other senior citizens out for their regular walk like me. Even if we did not converse much, and did not even know each other’s names, it was a companionable silence. There was ‘life’, in the presence of other human beings. Now, confined indoors, day after day, time hangs heavy through the day, with nothing to do. Spring cleaning, tidying up the rooms? The body gets tired and protests. 

Watching television becomes either boring – the same news reports, repeated ad infinitum, about the latest figures for fatalities caused by the virus, or floods in Assam or Florida – or depressing, with graphic visuals of victims rendered homeless. Or the shenanigans of politicians slavering over ‘plum’ portfolios and power, trying to topple elected governments through ‘horse-trading’, ‘buying loyalty’ with hefty bribes running to crores, chartering planes to stay at five-star resorts in Jaipur or Jaisalmer—all of which only put my blood pressure up. So what do I do, how do other seniors housebound like me, get through the day? Even prisoners have activities and work routines. And someone to talk to.

Instead of humans, I have thoughts for companions. Ruminate. Relive old memories. Some painful, doubtless, but I can push them aside and focus on the pleasant ones, recall jokes and repartees, from the past, and smile over them to myself. A friend introduced me to Sudoku, and the daily puzzle in the newspaper helps pass a few moments as I fill in the numbers. A crossword, perhaps. Then back to watching TV, surfing the channels in search of diversion. Avoid the news, turn to national geographic, and watch the antics of penguins waddling their way around. I don’t even need sound. The visuals suffice. But when the cameras focus on a pride of fierce lions chasing and tearing into a hapless zebra and feasting on its flesh, it is time to switch over to look for something more pleasant.

Having a laptop helps pass the time – watching cute animals’ antics on Youtube, for harmless diversion, even if I don’t understand some of the fancier programmes that the internet makes available – but the internet does not always work, and technicians do not bother to come over to troubleshoot, citing the lockdown as an excuse. Besides, sitting with a laptop is also mostly a lonely pastime.

And so the day slips away. And tomorrow is another day.