I am not normally given to hyperbole but this has been a disastrous decade so far, hasn’t it? I think most of us would have spent the first half of 2020 in a state of perpetual bewilderment. Wake up, realize that the pandemic was not a bad dream after all, spend all day working at the dining table (which had until then been purely decorative), learn how to make Zoom work, never manage to learn how to make MS Teams work, go to sleep. This, more or less, was my daily routine that year. I had written off 2020 less than halfway into the year but had hoped 2021 would be different. I mean, things had to get better because they could hardly get worse, could they?
Now, 2020 and 2021 have fused into one grotesque pandemic-tainted patch in my mind. Memories from this period are not sorted into any specific year but simply tossed into this distasteful zone. Of course, it hardly bears noting that the pandemic is far from over. But, in a desperate attempt to outshine its siblings’ apocalyptic tendencies, 2022 has ensured that we will not remember it as just another pandemic year. Full-blown war tends to have that effect.
You’d have thought that if anything could bring humanity together and make us more empathetic, it’d be the combined onslaught of a global pandemic, war, and general ‘end-of-the-world’ vibes. But when faced with our reckoning, we somehow contrived to make things worse.
The pandemic increased income inequality and the faultlines that riddled our society have further deepened1. The western world’s botched imperialist experiment in Afghanistan led to a return of the Taliban regime (which, incidentally, has called for peace between Russia and Ukraine! The Taliban is appealing for peace. You cannot make this stuff up.) We have reached a stage where diplomacy has forestalled our country from calling an invasion an invasion, because we don’t dare antagonise the invader. So we register our deep anguish by abstaining from voting on the issue in UN discussions.
As if mirroring the spreading insanity, TV journalists (I use the term loosely) have lost whatever little cognitive functions they possessed and completed their devolution into gibbering morons.
We are all Mr McAdams, standing in front of TV journalists, asking them to stop yelling at us.
These deplorable developments are, of course, universal and therefore, a source of pain to everyone2. But for some of us, there have been changes closer home that have been equally distressing. For some of us, the core tenets that formed the bedrock of our familial ties have been blithely cast aside, upending our lives. Let me explain.
I don’t like people. I would not go so far as to say I am an anthrophobe, but given a choice between going out to meet people or staying at home to avoid meeting people, I would invariably choose the latter. I know many people would have been desperate for the pandemic (or at least, the lockdowns) to ease so they could meet others, go out for meals and so on, but I was quite content at not having to deal with social engagements. I am by no means a hermit. I do go out with friends from time to time. But left to my devices, I would prefer if there were a sufficient gap between those spells of hobnobbing. I had always believed that my wife also ascribed to this worldview. I considered our mutual distaste for socialising as the keystone upon which our marriage rested.
Imagine then my consternation when this past weekend, she suddenly lay upon me a calendar of social commitments that involved a weekend trip with one set of friends and dinner plans on consecutive nights with two separate sets of friends. All things considered, I would be meeting nearly 30 people over the course of three days. Once the initial shock wore off and I realised she was earnest about us attending each of these gatherings, I cautiously asked her if she’d intended this to be a “kamikaze weekend”. A kamikaze weekend is a gambit often deployed by asocial folks. Essentially, you plan a weekend of raucous socialising and meet a bunch of people at one go, so you don’t have to step out of your house for the next few months. It’s like daubing a fresh wound with Dettol. Stings like the devil for a bit but works to your advantage in the long run. I figured that this, frankly reckless, weekend she’d planned was probably an attempt to wrap up our social obligations for the rest of the year.
“No”, she replied without batting an eyelid and oblivious to my rising panic, “nothing of the sort. I just thought it’d be nice to go out and meet people. And we can do this again next weekend.” I am not ashamed to admit that my legs gave way and I had to sit down. Who was this person so casually suggesting that we make plans to meet people on a regular basis? I know the pandemic had changed people but nothing could have prepared me for this. Was nothing sacred and holy anymore? Could nothing be trusted to stay true in this world?
The fact that I am writing this missive is proof that I survived that weekend. But I do not know how much more I can bear. Yet, I have faith. Perhaps this is nothing more than a momentary lapse of reason. I believe in our marriage and I hope, I do truly hope, that I can save her; bring her back to her senses and put an end to this madness. I know that somewhere deep within her heart, the desire to cancel plans and laze at home still burns. All I need to do is nurture that flame and soon it will be ablaze, and my wife shall be returned to me. One does not forsake loved ones so easily. I believe I will be able to bring her back and we shall once again pack away our going-out-clothes into the deep recesses of our wardrobe.
I must end now because yet another plan to meet people, is in the offing. Lord, give me strength. Farewell.
Reports indicate that India’s richest more than doubled their wealth during the pandemic, as millions of their compatriots lost their livelihoods. 145 billionaires in India (an infinitesimally small proportion of the population) have a combined wealth exceeding that of the poorest 40%.
Okay, I admit that Rahul Shivshankar’s imbecility is a source of merriment and not pain.
You're risking boycott by Lex.
Sending you the strength to withstand your social commitments 😁💕