Short ‘N’ Snappy

-- (Wo)MMM

Losing the corona lottery

It was bound to happen. The Woman from Madras Musings greeted the first week of the new year with a tickle in the throat. She was singing a favourite tune when the better half interrupted her in concern, pointing out that it sounded more horrible than usual. The tickle soon grew into a mild cough and the night brought fever and chills, symptoms which could no longer be ignored. The self-testing kit produced a negative result but (Wo)MMM drew into isolation to err on the side of safety; a wise decision in hindsight, since another self-test gave a positive result just a couple of days later. (Wo)MMM shut herself away in quarantine for a week as suggested by the doctor, who checked in once a day to see if (Wo)MMM was fine and behaving herself. The week went by in a haze of sleep and fatigue.

It seems like no household has been spared the unwelcome touch of the virus. Since the new year began, almost every day brings with it news of some family, friend or acquaintance testing positive for covid. (Wo)MMM’s driver had a strange ordeal. The gentleman got himself tested at a neighbourhood camp following a bout of fever; he never heard back from them for a couple of days and was left feeling confused. At (Wo)MMM’s urging to follow up on the result, he trudged back to the camp to ask about his test; it was only then that the administrator informed him that he did, in fact, have covid and would he please isolate himself at home. His story seems to be a unique one, though. Most ground reports are full of praise for the medical and administrative staff who coordinate with the patients. (Wo)MMM herself was left quite touched by regular phone calls that seemed to be genuinely concerned about her progress. It wasn’t all cold professionalism, either. Inquiries would be made with as to what (Wo)MMM had eaten that day, what she did with her time alone and how everyone else in the house was feeling. Such medical care is a matter of pride, especially if it is being extended to all the patients in the city.

The talk doing the rounds seems to suggest that the third wave is ‘not as bad as the first two’ and that the virus is ‘mild’. (Wo)MMM can, from personal experience, confidently say that such talk is naught but pure drivel. While the doctor has given (Wo)MMM a clean chit to resume ‘normal’ life, the virus has left her with a lingering cough, draining fatigue and, (Wo)MMM suspects, brain fog. The better half jokes that its made little difference, but (Wo)MMM is finding it harder than usual to gather her thoughts. (Wo)MMM also tried playing a game of tennis last weekend, only to discover that the most that she can currently do is walk threateningly towards the ball when it comes flying at her on court. Unsurprisingly, it’s not a very successful gameplay. (Wo)MMM suspects that she’s aged a few years in the span of that one week.

Which is why it irks (Wo)MMM to no end to see social circles downplaying the third wave. All it has served to do is lull people into complacency. Recent media reports say that many members of the public are choosing to forego testing themselves for covid when symptoms appear; the general feeling seems to be that one cannot be a covid patient if one opts out of getting tested for the virus. Strictly speaking, the logic does hold water – but (Wo)MMM feels that one would have to be nutty as a fruitcake to deem it a good idea. (Wo)MMM finds herself hard-pressed to understand why anyone would take the risk of transmitting an incurable virus to family, friends and fellow citizens. Are people embarrassed at the thought of testing positive, she wonders. Or perhaps they are indifferent since they don’t feel very sick. Whatever the case, it takes breathtaking selfishness to turn a blind eye to the risk that is posed to others. (Wo)MMM wishes that more people took the time to see how hard the city’s medical and administative teams are working to handle the third wave. We wouldn’t be so lackadaisical about it then.

Mask, you ask?

The Woman from Madras Musings was riding in the car with the better half after a nice, long game of tennis. The vehicle was waiting at a traffic signal near the Adyar flyover when the traffic police tapped on the windows. Why aren’t you wearing your masks? he asked politely when the better half rolled down the window. The question was met with great surprise. There was no one else in the car after all, and the windows were up. Turns out that the city has a new rule obliging passengers in a car to wear their masks and flouters were charged a fine. The better half apologized to the policeman, explaining that we were unaware of the rule. We are husband and wife, he said, and we’re both in perfect health, so it didn’t occur to us to wear our masks. We’re going to be next to each other at home, you know, he finished, an unsaid plea hanging in the air. The policeman seemed to have gone through similar exchanges quite a few times. It was the rule to wear masks, he explained with a smile, whether one was married to the other passengers in the car or not. The fine was paid without further ado and the car resumed its way back home.

The rule did sound a bit strange at first glance. (Wo)MMM doesn’t wear her mask at home and neither does the better half. But on further thought, it does make sense to mandate the rule without exceptions. The car is a closed environment where the virus can spread quite easily and it’s not always just family members that travel together in one. How would authorities verify familial claims anyway? Would such an exercise be worth the time and effort when people could just as easily simply wear their masks in the car?

In any case, (Wo)MMM has discovered anew the efficacy of punitive measures. It’s become second nature to wear the mask in the car and a couple are kept on standby in the dashboard too. A new friendship has been struck too, in the bargain – (Wo)MMM and the better half never fail to wave at the policeman when passing by, and he always responds with a nod and a smile.

The ground beneath our feet

Sometime in the last week, The Woman from Madras Musings made a quarrel with the better half. The subject was quite inconsequential and the argument entirely absurd, so both parties were rather enjoying the exchange. At one point, (Wo)MMM spied a juicy loophole and made a spirited speech, stamping her foot at the end to drive home the point. The entire building shook. The better half was shaken; so was (Wo)MMM, to tell the truth. After a moment, (Wo)MMM experimentally stamped her foot once again. The building trembled, quite discernably this time. (Wo)MMM gazed in awe at her feet, impressed by the strength they seemed to have gained in a single day at the gym. She would have to walk lightly henceforth, thought (Wo)MMM; she was ruing the thought that she could never jump or skip again when the pater in law poked his head through the door with the news that a demolition crew was bringing down a neighbouring building.

It turned out that other households on the street were complaining of tremors from the bulldozing, too. There was nothing much to be done about it though, for the work is slated to take a few days to complete. And so, the neighbourhood is resigned to putting up with intermittently quaking houses for the next couple of days. Our boundless capacity to adapt to strangeness never fails to surprise.

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