City Life - Maryann Taylor's Pandemic-Day Diary, DLF Phase 5, Gurgaon

City Life – Maryann Taylor’s Pandemic-Day Diary, DLF Phase 5, Gurgaon

City Life - Maryann Taylor's Pandemic-Day Diary, DLF Phase 5, Gurgaon

Her life, these days.

[Photo by Mayank Austen Soofi]

No home is left untouched, directly or indirectly, by the current surge in the coronavirus pandemic. So how’s our daily life like? Freelance writer Maryann Taylor, 36, in Gugaon’s DLF Phase 5 in the Greater Delhi Region, shares her day-long diary. In her own words—from morning to night.

6.30 am: I wake up to the third day of a persistent migraine sinking its fangs into my skull. Somewhere outside a koel is cooing. I check the time on my phone (awful habit).

7 am: I go to the kitchen. My husband who now sleeps in the guest bedroom since my mother’s arrival is still asleep. I make tea for my mother, coffee for me. My mother and I sit in silence- all this while feeling the migraine tighten its grip around my forehead. I swallow a tablet for my headache and step out for a walk anyway.

7:30 am: I walk past masked fellow morning walkers, an audio book keeping me company. I look up at the sky every now and then.

8 am: I sit with my phone scrolling through Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram with mounting dread. There are desperate pleas for hospital beds, oxygen, and plasma. I retweet and share as much as I can. The migraine is now worse.

9 am: I sit with a book but can’t read. Every few minutes an ambulance rushes past.

11 am: My cleaner arrives, and for the next hour I try and rest my aching head.

12 noon to 2 pm: I am too exhausted with worry and grief, and so I take another tablet and nap.

2:30 pm: My mother and I have lunch. Soup for her, roti and sabzi for me.

6 pm: My cook arrives and starts making dinner. My head is now pounding. I call my doctor. I will need an injection. I panic. I’m dreading going to a clinic during a raging pandemic.

7 pm: We rush to the clinic, the doctor gives me the injection in the car. My headache subsides.

8 pm: We have dinner in silence.

9pm: I crawl into bed saying a silent prayer of gratitude for making it through another day of the dark.