Our corona diary.

[Text and photo by Sarang Gupta]

I close my eyes in self-isolation from corona… and I see hills of western ghats merging into foothills of Pir Panjal. Back home some 2,000 kms away, I see Tawi river meandering and flowing over the sun on a hot summer evening from the old Bahu Fort of Jammu. My white shirt still reeks of my father but scents from my kitchen are not as pleasant as aroma from maa’s kitchen. 8 months and 12 days later, I, a self-proclaimed nomad, long for home like never before. But who am I kidding, why am I trying to be so poetic?

Do I miss the comfort, or seek company?

Does my empathy come from my loneliness or is it the pond of nostalgia that I feel like jumping into just because I’ve nothing else to do?

Is it maa’s food that I miss or my cooking that I hate? Do I actually love and miss my loved ones or is it a mere act of self-pity from a selfish soul?

Another thousand years of quarantine might tell.

“We the Isolationists” series urges folks from any part of the world to share a brief diary starting with “I close my eyes in my self-isolation from Corona… and I see…” Not more than 100 words. With a horizontal-sized selfie, along with your city name… please mail to me at mayankaustensoofi@gmail.com.