Lockdown - the Containment

Can there be anything worse than Lockdown? Turns out yes and it is called containment. Two weeks of imprisonment. 

One fine Saturday afternoon, my watchman calls saying police are here. I rush downstairs. Apparently, the watchman from the opposite apartment building was tested positive and his wife was working for an elderly couple in our building. So our apartment complex along with theirs is declared a containment zone. Since it was late in the evening, the police left with a warning - no one leaves the building until further instructions. But people being people, the first whiff of trouble they start disappearing leaving us to face police queries.
For the uninitiated, ours is a single building complex with 22 flats. Of these 3-4 are permanently locked, 2-3 were not occupied since well before lockdown, 2-3 vacated just after lockdown, and 2-3 on the day of containment. So there were a total of 10 flats in containment. Sunday the police, GHMC, and health workers landed. Each gathering information and the same information - who are the occupants, their age, occupation, and health conditions. Exact same information had to be shared with all the three. In the meantime, the apartment complex was sprayed with disinfectant, gates closed and barricades put up with a banner. We protested at the suddenness and they gave us a grace period of an hour to stock up. There are two doctors in the building who were on duty, so they called the collector or some such official, got special permission, and were allowed to continue with their duties. So by Sunday evening, we were locked in.

Now coming back to my personal experience. The story which started on my birthday, took shape, got extended, and continues here. My husband was taking care of his parents at their house, my parents were staying with me and now this. With my moral support available only over the phone and WhatsApp, I was getting scared. Here I was with my aged (70+) parents, already risking by allowing maid to continue working, now in a worst-case scenario. Well, not exactly worst-case, since my maid was not posing any danger, or was she??? So many doubts, so many thoughts, and no place to run, literally no place to hide. I tried my best to stay upbeat, parents were very supportive. But dil hai ki manta nahin.

Till now lockdown meant restriction in movement. I was getting domestic help so didn't feel the pinch apart from the fact that getting and sanitizing provisions and groceries was a bit painful. Now I was in the same boat as the rest. Have to take care of the dishes and house. House I was not very particular, gone were the days when I wanted a spic and span home. Now a dust speck here and a cobweb there doesn't bother me that much. And I will not claim that my house is cleaner when I clean it. I depend heavily on my maid to keep my house neat and tidy, and my maid does an excellent job of it. In these past 10+ years that we have been in India, I never held a broom, leave alone the mop. I was fortunate that my maid hardly took any time off, and even if she did it would be for a day or two. I didn't have any issues leaving the house unswept for a couple of days.

But then two weeks is a totally different deal. I couldn't leave it, and I couldn't lock up any rooms. So it was the entire house. How I curse the size of the apartment and how I wish I was shorter so that reaching the floor wouldn't kill my back. To top it, GHMC decided to utilise the lockdown period to re-pave the road, resulting in dust and debris floating into the flat, cons of living in afa on the first floor.

While daily essentials like milk were being delivered, and Big Basket was delivering so provisions were taken care of.  Fresh fruits and vegetables were a bit tricky, we have a weekly market in our colony on Saturdays. Luckily friends in the neighbourhood volunteered to get for us. That was a relief. Though we do not go out much which was further limited post lockdown, still the restriction that we cannot go out was very frustrating. Dad and I were used to going out for either a morning or evening walk which was now a big no, the terrace was too hot to be considered and our parking space limited. We were feeling like we were in jail. Every day the health workers would knock on the doors promptly by 11:30am to see if we were all doing fine. And we started pestering them for our freedom, poor people they were not in control but were getting harassed all the same. Two weeks were nearing their end and we were ready to heave a sigh of relief.

Amidst all this, weather decided to test us. Huge gales and rain battered the city one day a week into the containment. A huge tree on the south side of our flats was uprooted and it fell on the transformer. No power for 6 hours. What was impressive was the disaster team response. Within half hour electricity board guys were here and within couple of hours the disaster recovery guys. They first cleared the tree and then restored the power. I got to watch the show from our utility balcony, really impressive.

Two weeks came and went, so did 15 days, now it was getting really irritating. Every day we were told 2-3 days more, nothing more nothing less. Residents were getting anxious and started seeking out avenues to complain - police, commissioner, collectorate all included, nowhere did we get a proper response. Unfortunately for us, the timing coincided with the Lockdown 4.0 announcement and all officials were busy with those arrangements. Me being the logical soul, tried to find a meaning behind this so-called official negligence/goof up. My theory was - since a positive case turned up among the watchman's contacts and our two weeks got reset to that date. 

Finally one fine Thursday morning, after 19 days of containment we were free..... But where to go???? Nowhere, just an exhilaration that we are now on par with everyone else in the city........

And then I come across a case where one person was in containment, not once, not twice but a total of three times !!!!! He should be awarded a Nobel prize.