The Spectacular Quarantine Tales
Not all of us are accustomed to living indoors throughout
the day, especially avec our family. Gazing at the scenic beauty of the blank
walls and holding the window railings as if I were in a jail and long to be
free have occupied a huge part of my day.
My day typically begins with my father yelling at us and
trying to wake us at dawn. Catching the first rays of sun is an activity in
which he aims to engage me in. Unfortunately, waking up at the ungodly hour of
6 in the morning, a time reserved for bats and vampires does not fall in my
to-do list for vacations (read: quarantine).
I beg for 2 more hours of decent sleep and Dad storms off
towards his mobile and plays his favorite old songs which by a massive
coincidence sound like opera shows. This awakens my sister, who is as cheery is
as a peacock in rains.
She runs to get ready for the day while singing K-pop songs. She claims to be able to speak Korean quite fluently, but since I am unable to understand that particular southeast Asian dialect, it all sounds gibberish to me.
All the vivid symphonies being played compel me to leave the
bed.
I rub my eyes groggily
while Mom instructs me to keep an eye on the brewing marmalade. I brush and brace
myself for the next ordeal of braiding my hair.
Now, I absolutely adore my mane but there are days when I detest
having wavy hair which gets puffed up by the slightest humidity. And here I am,
living in a humid, equatorial country where one gets tanned by simply walking
in the park. So, to sum it up my hair would make a convincing case to sue me
for hair damage.
After long hours of yanking, tugging, wrenching and hauling
I look presentable.
I arrange the bed, gobble down breakfast and finish my designated
chores. Thoroughly pleased with myself for having the whole day to myself, I stride
to the living room and flop on the couch. I simultaneously look up IMDb and
arrange the cushions. Owning to my short span of attention, I cannot watch a show
having more than 3 seasons. I aimlessly scroll through my recommendations and settle
on Good Omens, a show I’ve re-watched countless times.
“You forgot the marmalade!” Mom bellowed and I sprint to the
kitchen to turn off the knob. I stare at the saucepan and it gazes back at me
in an ominous shade of black-brown. I gulp involuntarily and cover my nose. I
pull up my sleeves, (which was a terrible idea in hindsight).
I hastily scrape out
the edible looking parts, which admittedly weren’t a lot. I invest a lot of time
in raking off the leftover burnt bits and ended up with sugary, sticky fingers
and forearm. I scrub the tiny sugar particles leaving my skin in a sickly pale
color and all the softness of cacti.
After a rather exhausting task, I went in my parents’ room as we had agreed to watch a movie together.
Unable to agree on one, we all played
cards while listening to cheesy Bollywood music. We cheated, tricked and
dumbfounded each other. We cracked up jokes, giggled at slight mispronunciation,
and laughed till our bellies ached. Our faces glowing in happiness. The day ended
with all of us being together, enjoying each other’s company yearning for more.
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This came out wayy longer than I had anticipated. Vivid ideas kept popping and I typed them away. Considering that I am writing this after real long time I am And yes, the marmalade part is very much authentic. I am still slathering my hands with generous amounts of moisturizer.
Hopefully, I'll be posting my next article soon!
Cheers,
Anusha
Stay safe,
Stay happy!
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