By Ankita Mukherjee
The day the college asked us to go home, we were so shocked that we didn’t know how to react. We frantically called our parents or cried our lungs out as it was our last day in the college. Those booking their own tickets got a shock when news came that there would be a lockdown, and no flights, from midnight the next day. We ran round like headless chickens and booked wallet-burning tickets as fast as possible.
It was impossible to pack all the belongings we had accumulated over nine months. We left half of our stuff at the hostel. Some of us left for the airport at 2 that night. We were tired and scared. At the airport, we learnt our flight was on time, but had to pay extra charges for our luggage. The amount my parents spent to get me back home was unimaginably high.
When I reached home, everything was quiet. Every time I had came back home before, people used to come and hug me. But now there were none. Seeing isolated roads, I realised how coronavirus had affected everybody’s life.
I was in self-isolation for two weeks. My parents didn’t let me go downstairs or touch any object because my grandfather stays downstairs. My grandfather, who is like a buddy, has pampered me since my birth. He is now in his late 80s. Not being able to see me was bothering him no end. He then started coming upstairs. He would sit in another room and talk to me for five minutes. I felt like a prisoner who was visited by her family members in jail.
In home quarantine, I’m reading books that had gathered dust, and cooking new dishes for the family. I am taking little breaks from my assignments to practise dance steps.
I know this dark cloud, called Covid-19, will pass soon.
Image Credit- maids blog