Prose | Quarantine Days | Aakriti Kuntal

Artwork: Harsh Kumar

Quarantine Tendrils

Days intertwine into each other, dangling loops. Our faces, hands, and bodies protrude from this trapezoidal form that life has taken. Matter blurs along with the semi-solid feeling that pervades everything. However, there is kindness in the balcony. On occasion, a sparrow perches on the broad shoulders of the balcony's railings. I had never observed a sparrow so closely before. It is strange how the world opens up if you merely pay attention to it. Almost half of its body, its plumage, its soft, warm flesh seemed as if it were being strummed by invisible forces while it whistled, clocking its head sideways and around. The sound that arose from a tiny bird seemed to emanate from its entire core; it was an activity in which its entire being participated. One of the things that has come with this quarantine is the sound of birds. When the dust clears up, one can see (or hear) the consonance of otherwise lost threads.

The broad back of my city is a white ghost town, sparkling in its newfound vacancy. I wonder how the dogs, the cows, the myriad of birds and plants perceive this new, strange emptiness. The entire earth transformed into a large vacuum where everything echoes itself. It is a kind of vacation for them; vacation because we will return and their sweet silence shall dissipate into the hour that consumes everything. Man is their virus. It is uncanny how things dangle in perspective. Our suffering is their bliss and our comfort, their suffering. It is apparent though that the earth is far more potent than we can possibly perceive, that it can take from us at any instant whatever we seem to think as our own. In the large game of numbers, however, the individual does not matter. There is suffering on each side.

Quarantine is no stranger to me. On the contrary, now it seems to be an activity of unison, something that others are participating in too. I've been in quarantine for long periods of my life. One of the things that generally accompany an illness is isolation. After my surgery, I remained under a stringent quarantine for six months. Isolation brings you closer to the frames that envelop your life, the borders, the walls, the windows, the bricks of human existence, the shallow pool in which you now roam as a fish. The ceiling becomes a place of energy where all your unsettling thoughts encircle and brood. The bed becomes the back. The spine shifts into the bed sheet and cannot separate anymore the ruggedness of wood from that of the flesh. The most distinct perceptions, however, stem from the climate of the body. The body is a raging sea. It snatches your attention with every ache, every needle, every throbbing cell. The mind, however, is autonomous. It is a buzzing bee. The mind isn't contained by any frame or door. However, it is the mind that is most affected by these boxes. It is the mind that first succumbs to helplessness.

The times we are living in today, however, are slightly different from this, at least for most of us. Most of us in quarantine still treat the idea of suffering and death as a stranger. It is a shadow that looms in the circus of the head but hasn't nearly scratched at our surfaces. Yet, as the count of those affected by the virus rises, the thought will gain more solidity, it will acquire shape and form. It is in these times that we must open the mind like a window. Prepare for the worst and live in the present. This is something I usually tell myself to cope with the consequences of my health. Distraction is the key. You must treat each moment as a tiny pearl. Surrender yourself to the voyage of time. Amidst the chores of day's hurriedness sparkle moments. These moments are where life thrives. It is in these moments that we can stare at the satin sky, notice the arch of a loved one's laughter, bring warmth with proximity, hold a hand to remind ourselves of the tremendous force of human will. It is here that we can again notice the stunning colours of birds and remember that peace is not the absence of chaos but simply its acceptance, one that may be very hard to come but can thrive in us at least for a few moments if not entire days or lives.