The New Normal

 

The New Normal! I must admit I’m not a huge fan of this newly coined phrase. Primarily because it insinuates that a sense of abnormalcy existed earlier. In my head, the phrase conjures up an image of a errant employee trying to gloss over past mistakes and grovelling to get that promotion. But let’s accept it; we are stuck with it! Corporates are flaying it, enterprising startups are shining through with it and yet some individuals are hiding behind it. However, plainly speaking, the oft used sobriquet does wring out much needed hope-filled sentiments of a better future! So I shall put aside my dislike for the phrase and eat ‘humble pie’, that I learnt to make over the lockdown period...a flaky crust filled with tart humility!

Now getting back to what lies ahead for us.... do you think the ‘new normal’ paints a rose-bush lined path towards a happy future?!

A future, where there will be no masks hiding half our visage and that of our fellow human beings. 

“Is that..? Probably not! I won’t wave back at him. What if he has mistaken me for someone else. Wait, he’s walking towards me. I’ll just give a tiny wave. Bloody hell, that’s my ex! I knew I shouldn’t have waved!!!” 

A time, where we will not suffer a fit when we hear a muffled cough behind us. 

“Quick! Check the distance. Is there a 6 feet gap between me and the cough bandit! Do I have to rush back home to have yet another bath and steam my innards!?” 

A world, where the morning news will not run a perennial bottom scroll with the no. of covid 19 deaths worldwide.

 “Have you see the numbers for New York? Or even Melbourne for that matter. It skyrocketing.” 

Nope, we aren’t discussing the real estate rates. We are talking about the statistics of people succumbing to the China virus, as Trump calls it!

A sitch, where the nondescript uncle-next-door gets famous, because of his lab test reports. 

“Did you hear about Mr. Batra? Oh no. He’s not an underworld don in hiding. The police took him to the isolation ward for quarantine after his trip to Dubai.”

A society, that doesn’t need to panic after shaking hands with acquaintances; that can hug loved ones without second thoughts; kiss it’s sweethearts’ lips and not the cold smooth screens during a video call; hold hands and dance in unison, ushering in festive days and travel with abandon without donning n95 masks, visors, and PPE suits. 

“Darling, I’m so excited we are finally able to go on our honeymoon.”

“Umm, janoo you packed protection right?”

“Of course my dear. We agreed that we are not ready for babies yet.” 

“Janoo, I actually meant the sanitiser, disinfectant spray and mouthwash!!!”

A vocabulary, where ‘being positive’ actually means having optimistic feelings; not living in fear of being mistaken for having contracted the novel coronavirus! The evolving vocabulary displays a surging popularity of the term ‘immunity’, a pet term eagerly adopted by all marketing departments especially in the FMCG sector to help flagging sales. 

“Beta, eat up your papad, even the crumbs. It boosts antibodies and in turn your immunity.”

“Ma, don’t sell immunity papad to me. Next you will be telling me to wash my hair in rasam, for that healthy shine.”

Let’s face it. There’s been nothing normal about 2020. Lethal viruses from overseas, raging forest fires, flash floods, political uprisings, racism backlash, social distancing, home schooling, work from home, overworked NCB and whatnot. I’m sure you’d all agree when I say we are reaching the point where we will happily accept any kind of normal - old or new! 

-Anuradha Venkatnarayan

Frozen derrières and writers’ blocks

 I’m not having a go at my ilk. Oh no! I wouldn’t write anything against the writers of the world. On the contrary, this blog is a heartfelt piece about how my writer’s block thawed after a throbbing experience! Who knows, this outpouring might just provide solace to a kindred soul grappling with wordy constipation or even recourse from curiosity as to what the throbbing experience was!

What happens during a writer’s block?! It’s akin to a road block. You don’t get anywhere! Hours crawl past; groaning under the weight of muselessness. Minutes prance past us; tongue in cheek, taunting, “Use your thumbs, twiddle dee, twiddle dum.” Seconds race ahead; glassy eyes smarting from the dust kicked up. Thoughts fade into thin air. Ideas play truant, hiding in the folds of a numb brain. On a hopeful, sunny day, when an idea flutters about on gossamer wings like a dragonfly, a quick thumbs warm up later you look up to see, “Poof, gone.” No sign of rainbow coloured wings or the faint buzz of the idea! Only void. 

I had no idea that ideas could be so unfaithful. I hadn’t written a word for almost half a year. Post writer’s block season, I am acutely conscious that the germ of an idea is unbelievably slippery, like a freshly snagged fish on what could be its last breath. If you foolishly give it some extra time in the mind’s dugout, that’s the last you’ll see of that struggling idea. You’ll see your dinner wagging it’s tail fin and getting away; jeering cruelly at you. I guess I’ve made it crystal clear that an idea is to be latched on to; just as I latched on for dear life on the bike ride from Hyderabad to Bidar! 

Did I mention that the mean machine had a person’s name and didn’t have a restraining backrest?! It’s no wonder they call it a mean machine. That 2-hour (one way, mind you) tooth and nail fight against succumbing to gravity and bouncing off the throbbing bike at every lurch definitely gave me the ‘bite’ to write. Consider this; even before the gluteus maximus has recovered from all that clenching, I’m sitting down to capture the enjoyable moments of the otherwise accident free ride! Funnily enough a frozen derrière has thawed my thoughts!

It was an idyllic day to set out. The clouds shielded the sun from toasting our bare skin. The previous night’s rain had washed away the grime from the roads and foliage. And the intermittent puddles playfully sprayed a charming pattern on the ankles. And of course the cool breeze on the face was a reminder of the adage, ‘All the best things in life are free’! While burning rubber on the tar, the breeze plays music in your ears and the trees lining the road dance along. For well-nigh starved travellers from Hyderabad, Bidar has the right amount of lure for a day trip. But the excitement of the ride tops the charm of the destination. The sense of unfettered abandon that a bike ride endows is second to none; until of course a speeding lorry forces you to stop acting like Leonardo DiCaprio trying to woo Kate Winslet! 

The experience of alternating pleasure and thrill with a ceaseless undercurrent of pain will appear to you as a mirror image of writing on an uninspired day! Try it sometime. I mean both - taking a long bike ride and writing on a museless day. At the end of the day, when you thumb down that last period, it’s pure happiness! And when you step down from the bike exhausted, it’s freedom from derrière distress!!

-Anuradha Venkatnarayan