SHIFTING PARADIGMS THROUGH A PANDEMIC : PART 3 - 10 min read

Unexpected Crisis – Incredible Opportunity 

(10 min read)

Winston Churchill is famously quoted to have said, “Never let a good crisis go to waste”.

            Incidentally quarantine, isolation and staying put at home was a regular event for me after suffering medical adversity at 14 months of age.  It all began at the ID Hospital,[1] thereafter at home for over six months and continued until I was about 18.  In the early years, it hardly mattered; unaware of all that transpired, being loved and looked after, I was carefree and oblivious of my environs.  Just that a cheerful and feisty prattler was troubled at the restrictions on movement beside’s her routine functions.  Each passing day became complicated with the intensification of health issues.  Thus staying at home in bed developed into a regular feature.  Whether it was a surgery to drain unused serum deposits[2] or simple childhood diseases; every illness I contracted threatened to see me to my grave.  But I survived, each time, every time.

           

My early days were spirited and energetic not realising I was already ‘handicapped’ (differently-abled was a term created much later)’[1].  I knew I had a limp; I was weak and could not run or jump as much as others.  Yet I climbed trees crawled into abandoned shanties, crossed over broken walls between houses, and mostly played with the boys in the “para”[2].  Summer holiday’s found me in similar activities with cousins and the extended family.  Therefore, being confined while you could hear squeals of laughter, the pitter-patter of feet; bouncing of balls, marbles clinking and “bhokatta”[3] for kites, below your window, or up on the terrace were brutally agonising.  Until a certain age, I lived in denial and thought, it would change.  Time quickly taught me, this would just be the way.  By the age of seven, I learnt to live through “my lockdown’s”[4].  Never realised I would benefit from those survival lessons to cope with a Pandemic in my lifetime.  As I ponder on the lessons I learnt, am grateful for the “predicament”.

Accept the Moment

There came a point when I learnt to accept my inabilities during my sickness so my restrictions became tolerable.  I always kept a pocket calendar as my bookmark and once I could sit up in the recovery stages I would cross out each day and wait for the doctor to give me progressive clearance.  Gradually I learnt to concentrate on the “moment”.  I began focusing on possibilities instead of letting frustration or disappointment to creep in.  No outdoor, no school.  Therefore, studying, reading, dolls and imagination became my best buddies.

          In the given circumstances, during those phases, a 6/4 bed was what I had to accept and make use of to its fullest.  I could be a rebel and resign or be determined to define.

            The night when our PM announced, “Janta Curfew” and the plan to applaud the front liners, during my prayer time something prompted me to look for a deeper purpose.  I realised we would have no Church that Sunday.  So what?  We could pray for protection over these precious people right from where we were. We did!!  We engaged in prayer for 22 minutes on 22^nd March at 22:22 hours.

            On the above day, the best one could do was waiting at the moment.  As law-abiding citizens, stay home, respect authority and the instructions of our PM, applaud the efforts of our front liners and lastly feel the warmth of divine protection.  Acceptance of the moment and giving it my best within the confines of an approximately 1200 sqft home was the best I could do.

Recognise your potential

            I am grateful to “my thakuma”[5].  She encouraged me to recognise what I could do rather than what I couldn’t.  I developed the love for stories and crafting from waste and discarded items.  My old lady was a genius.  She taught me to make wigs out of betelnut shells!  Yes, the over-enthusiastic hairdresser in me, often chopped off my doll’s hair.  At times, exaggerating the shampooing created knotted locks and yet other times I ripped them off out of frustration.

       Resources back then were limited and I developed a knack for collecting every little item (“kaj e asbe”[6]).  Gathering refuse items like wrappers, bits of plastics, ribbons, bottles, cans and broken toys.  Every non-perishable item became a project for me (it still is).  My mother recalls I had an awfully sharp memory so even if one such treasure piece was missing from my stash, I would go under the dining table and cry.  All the hobbies that I have developed over the years were learnt during this phase of my life.  I would miss school and at least one term examination, yet never ranked below 4^th in a class of 40.  Surprisingly, all of this while being severely circumstantially disadvantaged.  However, lethargy during challenges got the better of me and I could not hold on to my standards.  No regrets; today I use them as my “Things NOT to Do” checklist.

            A week into the lockdown, I dabbled between choices.  Already enrolled in a Masters programme, I rationalised the plan for further academic courses.  I wanted to spend a few light moments, unwind, and perhaps dedicate time to my post-retirement leisure pursuits.  I drew up a list of several comfortable ideas alongside a few uncharted territories after proper introspection.  I logged onto my blog, started six years ago assisted by my son, Samuel.  Glanced through apologetically; remembering how he encouraged me to begin and the conversations thereafter.  The rest of the list included studying blogging, crafts, embroidery, knitting, making song covers and painting; point to be noted, I cannot draw a straight line to save myself but love playing with colours.  Hence this gallant decision to experiment.

            At first, I was averse to a schedule.  Again!! Oh, come on!!  This time is for looking within, breaking out and just floating into philosophical life lessons.  A week of idealistic lethargy compelled me to slip back into a routine, albeit kinder on myself and others.  The decision was clear, “if I achieve nothing, acquire no new skill and even stack “my projects” back into their corners; wiser in recognising myself and kinder in accepting others is definitely something I want to go out with from this lockdown.  That was not negotiable.  The crossover had to be different.  I am not going back the same.

            Curious learners adopt an unusual approach, they decide to face up with grit and make the most of a situation, turning it to their advantage.  I chose to be curious.

Best foot forward

           

As illnesses became a regular affair, slowly my bed became endurable and I developed a sound camaraderie with textbooks, storybooks, my grandmother’s melodious voice and all that could keep me busy.  I learnt to give my best.  A soft-spoken tough taskmaster, Granny never let me get away with average efforts.  Homeschooling resulted naturally since I often missed months of school.  There was no escape having a stay home mother who was an indisputably strict trained teacher.  In the absence of technology, kind classmates obliged with the necessary information to my mother who would diligently meet them after school hours or visit their homes.  I know many may have major cardiac distress, that ‘I’, yes ‘I’ would score 100% in mathematics.  And my husband raises his eyebrow reading I scored 100% in spellings (he is a walking Alt+F7 key)[7].  This was thanks to my grandmother repeating spellings and tables with me throughout the day at every opportunity.  In the absence of regular lessons; her logic was “if this is all you can do now, become flawless”.

            As I was settled into a sound mix of what I wanted to do during this unexpected free period.  I cued up my schedule.  Two blocks of my day would be devoted to my blog, painting t-shirts in between and cleaning out “essentials” that were basically garbage.  Finally, I may be able to part with my uncontested “stasher of the family” title.  I did open my books a couple of times but like a juvenile student, rushed back to my hobbies; especially the newfound trials at painting.  Crafts, embroidery, knitting, making song covers with my little one have kept me excited like a child.  All these years of neglect towards the other side of me came tumbling out of a stuffed closet.  I had to have my heart’s content; make the best till I can.

Better not bitter

            I learnt coexistence with everything MEDICAL… doctor’s nurse’s needles and the odour of hospitals.  I developed eating disorders with the antiseptic smells and it made me frail.  I had a damaged liver so most foods did not agree with me.  Poisonous cysts erupted all over my body; the one I got in my eye threatened my sight.  I struggled on a daily basis just to live.  My trysts with doctors, healers and all sorts of people were endless.  They made my parents believe that I would be alright.  Everyone had an opinion on my life, none gave a solution.  My treatments were painful but I never complained or made it difficult for the procedures.  Yes, I cried but I always prayed and smiled through my tears and sobs.[8]  My dreams kept shifting, from Doctor to Professor to Civil Servant to an EA[9] is where I have reached, I am happy that though my dreams kept changing it could not alter my enthusiasm for life and living.

            Having selected my own agenda, I wanted to cheer up my little one.  Incidentally, the lockdown hasn’t been a fun extension of term break for children.  The given circumstance has distressed them greatly, I assume far greater than us adults.  It isn’t exciting to miss school any longer; the thought of all the boundaries once they joined school must be overwhelming.  No group huddles, no sharing food, exchanging stationery or sneaking in treats while the class went on.  What would be normal?  Unlike us, children are invisibly apprehensive and tentative.  While we have our ways of de-stressing, in today’s screen-oriented world, children need to be coached to distract themselves.  I tried different ways; some have been successful, in some I failed.  The most fulfilling moment was being asked to teach her The Merchant of Venice.  We enjoyed a morning of loosely unfolding the plot in a casual storytelling session.  Online classes by the school take care of the academic aspect, hence my little one and I spend time crafting together, talking about everything under the sun and getting to know the mundane kitchen activities that help in rustling up a meal.  At times we play Word Games and Memory Games; also, while I blog, she is happily maintaining a journal.

            There are considerable benefits a crisis can offer during and after it occurs.  Throughout the predicament, one must continually keep an eye on what will occur when it is over.  Amongst all the moments at this time, it’s the now that counts.  I must establish that I can and I will, no matter what comes.  There’s no way to veil the truth: this is the moment when things need to get done yet this is the time we slip into an abyss of pity, remorse and fate.  During an unexpected crisis, we can discover incredible opportunities that come with our strength to rise above.

            Will I break under pressure? Will I exploit it to soar above it all?  Do I need to make a choice, or the writing is clear on the wall?

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[1] The injection wrongly administered had partially paralysed

my left ower leg causing deformity and slowed down growth

[2] Para means locality in Bengali

[3] A jubilant term used to celebrate bringing down your opponent’s kite

[4] The period of my being confined to bed and home

[5] Paternal grandmother

[6] Translated from Bengali it means – “will come in use”

[7]  Spellcheck function on Wordprocessor

[8] As narrated by my mother and grandmother

[9] Executive Assistant /Administrative Assistant Office Associate in ITC

erstwhile Confidential Secretary

(To be continued - “Unravel Contentment in Confinement”)

Images: Courtesy Google Images