The street outside my house has always been bustling with activity. Couples chatting animatedly as they walk at a leisurely pace. The bread seller on his bicycle, honking occasionally and stopping on seeing a person frantically waving her arm to catch his attention. Children leaving their homes, cycling madly to their playing spot where they undoubtedly receive disapproving looks from the old biddies who sit in the verandahs of their homes, gossiping in hushed tones.
I normally make it a point to walk to places in my area, but when I’m feeling a bit lazy I succumb to taking my bike. A couple of metres away from my house I am greeted by the street food seller who salutes his most frequent customer.
Quarantine has struck the world. My town has not been spared.
I am a more frequent visitor to my doorstep, where I sit and watch how everything has not come to standstill, but definitely slowed down. Fewer people on the street, the bread seller I now see every alternate day, the children from the next door colony have not been out and about and the street food sellers spot is now empty, all that can be seen are the deep impressions made by the wheels of his cart, which fade away with each passing day.
My street is silent – eerily quiet. The silence itself could be said to be deafening. My sense of familiarity has been shifted.
But now as I sit here, at my doorstep, I have a newfound appreciation for the clear blue summer sky, for the sight of birds resting on the telephone wires, for the occasional cyclist that passes by, for my parents who sit next to me and talk to me about their days gone by or narrate an anecdote or two about me as a toddler.
This is my new normal. At least, for now. And though sometimes I miss my old routine all I can do right now is be hopeful for the future.
Written By Leanne Pereira
Lover of Taylor Swift songs, obsessed with every hue of blue known to mankind and fascinated by books and the words in them, I’m always thinking about my next story.
Week 15, April 2021
