Stepped out of my complex today, for the first time in 8 days - it felt strange. Almost empty roads (although, even in this post apocalyptic world I did see one two wheeler driving in the wrong direction - mera Bharat mahan)
At 10:45, not too many shops were open. Just one small bakery. Picked up a few essentials from the masked man behind the counter. He didn't have much, in any case.
I ventured further, ahead to the D'Mart store. Even before I reached, I saw a long serpentine queue stretched even longer by the conscious distance between one patient shopper and the next. Discreetly retreated. Nothing too urgent to warrant standing an hour at the minimum.
Returning back to my complex I notice security is less than half strength at the main gate. I am stopped, tentatively, by a stranger, a new guard, to whom I too am a stranger. My beard and generally unkempt look perhaps made me look undesirable, unworthy of being a resident here.
I walk past him breezily, with insouciance - he quietly slinks back. So much for protection...
Back at my building, a hand sanitizer is the only guard I see. No other human in sight.
Leaves fallen from trees gather in the gentle breeze, assembling together for a seminar of the dead. They rustle, they murmur among themselves, and do a sudden quick dance in a mild strengthening breeze.
My lift arrives, doors swish open. The floor looks unnaturally dirty, splashes of water and shoe marks on the tile. Floor 2, should I press the button? A sudden nervousness grips me.
I pause. Consider. The risk of infection weighs a moment on my mind.
"Ah, hell!"
I press. Go up.
Home.
One week down....
How many more?
At 10:45, not too many shops were open. Just one small bakery. Picked up a few essentials from the masked man behind the counter. He didn't have much, in any case.
I ventured further, ahead to the D'Mart store. Even before I reached, I saw a long serpentine queue stretched even longer by the conscious distance between one patient shopper and the next. Discreetly retreated. Nothing too urgent to warrant standing an hour at the minimum.
Returning back to my complex I notice security is less than half strength at the main gate. I am stopped, tentatively, by a stranger, a new guard, to whom I too am a stranger. My beard and generally unkempt look perhaps made me look undesirable, unworthy of being a resident here.
I walk past him breezily, with insouciance - he quietly slinks back. So much for protection...
Back at my building, a hand sanitizer is the only guard I see. No other human in sight.
Leaves fallen from trees gather in the gentle breeze, assembling together for a seminar of the dead. They rustle, they murmur among themselves, and do a sudden quick dance in a mild strengthening breeze.
My lift arrives, doors swish open. The floor looks unnaturally dirty, splashes of water and shoe marks on the tile. Floor 2, should I press the button? A sudden nervousness grips me.
I pause. Consider. The risk of infection weighs a moment on my mind.
"Ah, hell!"
I press. Go up.
Home.
One week down....
How many more?
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