Pens Pens and Pens

      

           Pens have always held a fascination for me. I remember how i was  looking forward to get promoted to class VI - so that I could start using a pen in my notebooks. In my mind's eye I visualized beautiful calligraphy flowng out of the tip of my pen's nib on to the pristine pages of the notebook.  I could see the teacher congratulating me on my excellent handwriting and quoting my example to other students.

         

           What did come out of my pen was an illegible scrawl which - not only the teacher- but even I could not decipher. Adding to my woes were the smudges of the ink which inevitably appeared both on my fingers and on the pages of my homework.The situation seemed hopeless but I did not give up hope I continued to make valiant efforts to improve my handwriting but it stubbornly refused to go beyond a collection of twisted alphabets which - over a period of time - both my teacher and I learned to decipher. Just like the pharmacist who always can read a doctor's prescription. It would be pertinent to mention that ball pens were frowned upon and were not allowed to be used in schools those days. 

          My handwriting remained an  enigma destined never to touch the heights of neither neatness nor the legibility,  with perennial smudges both on my school books and the pockets of my white shirts - a part of my uniform. The memories with pens inextricably remained woven into the fabric of my life. Whether it be the first exam where my pen ran out of ink and after which I never went for an examination without a backup, my first anonymous love letter, my first signature on a cheque when I withdrew my first salary ....

           Good or bad -  my fascination with pens burned bright. From the sleek, whisper-quiet lines of polished chrome to the heavy, comforting weight of carved lacquer, every pen held its own quiet magic.​There were fat, stubby barrels that settled snugly into the palm, razor-thin pens that glided across parchment like liquid shadow, and vibrant gel pens spilling velvet hues of azure, crimson, and copper.​Some were timeless artifacts—classic fountain pens whose nibs sang softly against the paper—while others were humble, clicky plastic companions that caught fleeting thoughts before they vanished into thin air.​Whether crafted from warm, aromatic rosewood, cool brushed steel, or translucent acrylic that caught the morning light—I loved them all. I was like an unrequited lover- only in my case the love was never returned-in form of good hand writing.

          However I have discovered a way around to improve my handwriting and make it artistic. I dictate my thoughts to the computer and when it's transcribed I tell the computer which font and style of writing I want it in. To a large extent my desire for the perfect handwriting is assuaged.

          I still like visiting the old reputed stores in Hyderabad which deal mostly in pens. I window shop scrawl a few lines on the notepad that the vendor thoughtfully provides to test out a pen. In an occassional  moment of self indulgence I also buy a pen which catches my fancy- not to write with it- but to dream about what could have been if my handwriting was not like that of a doctor.....

Retirement Blues (A wife's Dilemma)

         
  His siesta was disturbed by the sound of voices in his living room. Ever since his retirement he had fallen into the habit of sleeping after lunch. Other than his wife's voice he could hear those of a few other ladies who had probably come to his place to exchange the local gossip. Normal courtesy demanded that he greet the ladies but the mention of "Retirement" and 'My Husband' made him pause. Like a true retired person he started eavesdropping. His wife was narrating something.....          

         "Normally I am a very patient woman" his wife said; "More so with my husband than with others. He sometimes behaves in the most obtuse manner". His interest was piqued and he continued listening." A disagreement would only be resolved when he was out of my area of influence - when he went for work"- his wife continued. "Of late one major thought has been the foremost in my mind. Should I murder him?" 

           Now he was really curious and this is what his wife had to say....

        "Since his retirement he has been a pain in all the imaginable and unimaginable places.I frequently fantasize about the various methods that I can employ to carry out this dastardly act. 'Crime Patrol Dastak' and all such gory shows are not helpful at all. The criminal always gets caught. So I had to look elsewhere for inspiration. I had to devise ways to 'Have my cake and eat it too' I had to have a moment of insight when I could kill and get away with it".

           "To say that I looked forward to his retirement so that we could be together would be stretching the reality a bit. In fact I dreaded his last day at work when he would bid goodbyes to his colleagues and stay home permanently. Many times I tried to broach the subject - both obliquely and asking pointed questions - after retirement what? He either ignored these questions, changed the subject or acted as if he did not hear me. On the retirement day he was deposited on my doorstep drunk by his erstwhile colleagues with a bedraggled boquet in his hand and a silly smile on his face. The presence of his colleagues prevented any mishap occurring that day. His friends put him to bed , dusted their hands and left." 

           " In repose, breathing stertorously, with his mouth open, he presented a very funny picture. The future looked bleak. A part of my mind rationalised that maybe things would be okay and all would be well. Another part of my mind - refused to accept the inevitable - and advised me to run. A night of troubled sleep and I came awake suddenly in panic. I had to prepare lunch and breakfast for my husband to go to the office. Then came the realisation that he had retired and we would be in each other's space till we were parted. I tentatively kicked my husband to wake him up. The first thing he said after waking up was "why did you not wake me up?" (The  blame game had already started) "Now I will be late for office..." probably the realisation that he retired also came to him alongwith the hangover and he groaned. He tried to grab me (I don't know what intentions he had but i avoided being puled into the bed again) and when that did not work he picked up the TV remote. Two hours after I left him watching the TV to do the household chores he was still in bed - watching the TV. He ignored all the calls on his mobile and when the calls went unanswered, the callers started calling me. In addition to doing the housework I had become a PA for my husband juggling between the kitchen and the bedroom to make him speak over the telephone. "

            " Finally in a fit of desperation when I screamed at him to get out of bed he did so. After getting ready and having his third cup of coffee, reading the newspaper and watching the TV (Such Multi-Tasking would have improved his promotion prospects at his workplace), the next step was to interfere in the housework. The maid was told to sweep properly - he followed her into each room (was he interested in her work or her curves?) to supervise her work. Luckily the maid was an even tempered person who sportingly took his suggestions and left without making a scene. Then started the whining. The bathroom was not clean - where are my books - why is my cupboard in such shambles - where should I put my documents - what is for lunch (This was just after breakfast) - etc. Not a single word about assisting me at work or even sharing the burden. He left a trail of glasses and cups throughout the house and expected me to clean up after him." 

            " Before I did anything drastic there was a need to lay down certain guidelines for our continued co-existence. This included distribution of housework, time to do other activity, distribution of TV time etc. We did not watch the same programs on TV, and - more importantly how to give each other space while spending days together in the same space. It also included the need for my husband not interfering with the maid or other household staff".

          " By lunch time I was in a daze. I felt like a trapped rat who had no route of escape.  Lunch was consumed with criticism of both the food and general standard of the household work. Of course an afternoon of repose gave me the much needed sucour to re-organise my thoughts and plan my further actions. The evening slowly slipped into the night. This part of the day was more familiar to both of us as  this ws the time my husband came back from work till yesterday. This paticular day was the beginning of a new era.Since my husband was home in the evenings I decided that I would go to the Gym and spend time there. The evening meal was consumed in silence and soon it was bed time. The rigors of the first day left me exhausted and I fell asleep as soon as I hit the pillow. And there was no further scheming that night."

            "But then there is always tomorrow......"

            His wife's thought process left him stunned. He longed for those days at the office when he felt that he was on the top of the world who had minions in the office and a wife at home. He felt cornered and unloved. He decided to turn over a new leaf and understand his wife's angst. Right now he needed a cup of tea and his wife was wasting time gossiping with her friends.....

  

 

Retro-Review

           With nothing much to do we were surfing the various videos on the youtube. Nowadays youtube has this facility where the preview of the video is shown for about thirty seconds. These thirty seconds help you decide whether you want to watch the show or not. On this particular day my browsing stopped at a particular video. The singer started crooning ♪My name is Anthony Gonzales.....♪ years rolled back and in an unspoken communication between my wife and I, we decided to watch that beautiful movie "Amar Akbar Anthony". Popcorn was catered for, blinds lowered and we were ready to immerse ourselves into the world of fantasy of Manmohan Desai....(God Bless his soul).

 

           Had so much water flown under the bridge that 45 years had elapsed since the release of this movie?.  In 1977 I was a young lad of barely 15 summers and my wife was also that much younger...(She is averse to my revealing her age publicly- unless it has financial implications). Of course at that time she did'nt have an idea that she would be tying the knot with me. All the actors were 45 years younger the world was that much more younger. Movie tickets cost - I think Rs 10 for the balcony and for the lower stall Rs 1.75.  Money was hard to come by even if it meant shelling out such a meagre amount. One had to indulge in various devious means such as selling old newspapers on the sly to cater for the tickets. And this involved having an accomplice who would recieve the papers and go to the raddi-wala. It was fun until we got caught and both our mothers were weeping on our 'supposed' graduation to bigger crimes as we grew older. Considering our financial situation you could guess which stall we would prefer to watch the movie. 

         The movie was a diamond jubilee and ran for more than 75 weeks at the box office. The movie was so popular that we had to stand in lines in the fuggy atmosphere of belches and farts -  maybe for two shows in a row if the booking window closed on us. Were we that patient 45 years back? Of course as we grew we found that befriending a lady to buy us tickets reduced our waiting period (That is right they used to have seperate lines for ladies)

        The movie starts off innocuously enough with someone being released from the jail after serving time. As the camera pans onto the ex prisoner's face we realise that it is Pran who (May he rest in peace) has fathered three children off the character of Nirupa Roy - that ever suffering quintessential mother of Indian cinema - who could do no wrong. Though I believe in real life she was quite severe on her daughter -in law. One is loath to speak ill of the dead ( may she have the best of the other world). Pran having served time for someone else feels wronged and goes to meet the Boss (Jeevan - who incidentally kicked the bucket). The boss has exotic tastes and likes his boots cleaned with whisky. Pran steals from his boss and his family is seperated during a storm with the eldest son being raised as a hindu the second son as a christian and  the third son as a muslim.

            The mother who runs off leaving her three children to commit suicide - because she was unable to look after her family- is hit by a tree branch in Mumbai (those days there was still some forest cover in Mumbai) during  a storm and loses her eyesight. After a suitable amount of time has elapsed the eldest son becomes Vinod Khanna (Died of testicular Cancer) God bless him, the second son is Amitabh bachhan (Anthony) and the third son is Rishi Kapoor - Akbar(Died of Blood cancer) Om Shanti. 

            God Allah and Bhagwan play a pivotal role in the movie and the three brothers of different religions end up donating blood to the flower girl (Nirupa Roy). Blood is still red -no matter - what  religion you follow. Amar, Akbar and Anthony go about their ways and meet the three leading ladies Shabana Azmi (Amar) Neetu Singh (Akbar) Parveen Babi (Died a lonely death- May her soul find Rest) (Anthony). 

            A series of incidents, God's intervention and Shirdi Sai Baba (Nirupa Roy gets back her sight) ensure that the family re-unite finally. With the spurned lover Zebisko losing out both in the movie and real life when he died in 1985 (God needed him in Heaven). 

            The movie finally comes to an end with the song ♪ Amar, Akbar Anthony  ♪ being sung lustily the family smiling and general happiness everywhere. It was one of the few movies  in the recent times that I watched without a break - even to go to the restroom.  I am sure that the movie if released today would still be a hit (Notwithstanding the boycott culture).

            45 years have passed and the movie is still capable of keeping the audience (Read - My wife and I) spellbound. 45 years have changed us beyond recognition and hopefully the next few years will further change us . For they do say - "Life is one huge cycle" 

Retirement Blues

     The weather did not permit any activity outside. Much as he would have liked to stretch out after days of inactivity,it was just not possible. And he feared inactivity. Not because it was unhealthy but also because it brought on strange thoughts which were scary. Of late he was sleeping very late in the night. This did not help at all.

     And on top of it he was retiring from service. Retirement three years back looked like it was thousands of years away. Now all of a sudden years of inactivity loomed over hin. No more whiling away time at this office. He would have to do it at home. One of the questions nagging him was how would his wife tolerate him? Not that his was an unhappy marriage. In fact his was a dream marriage. They had had the best of times. Of late however his wife was getting a bit bossy. For many days he had wondered at this change. A sweet fun loving lady had turned into a bossy woman. He agonized for months at this change in attitude. And inevitably he turned to the internet for his answers. 'Menopause' the search engine screamed. 4567825 in 0.01seconds it proudly proclaimed. He did not have to go beyond the first page to find out accurately about his wife's symptoms. It explained a lot. "Well" he thought philosophically "I will have to exchange one boss with another" 

     All those fun times at office when he used to come late just because he could and then since it was already tea time move to the tea room for tea and gossip. It invariably got stretched to an hour and then his conscience would feebly tug at him to do something at the office. His most productive hour was between tea-time in the morning and lunchtime. By the time he had finished a part of his task it was already time for lunch. The lunch usually ended in as animated discussion. A full stomach and the afternoon heat generally put him in a stupor. He used to go through his work like an automaton. The peon would thrust a tea cup in his face at the appointed hour. At this time he generally went to the boss to apprise him of  his progress during the day. This interaction had a twofold aim. One was of informing his boss about his presence in the office throughout the day - hard at  work - and the other was to ensure that the boss did not miss him when he left for home early.

     A smile came to his face when he thought about how he used to fool the bosses. But when he got promoted to a responsible position he realised that the boss always knew about his escapades- because now as the boss - he knew about his subordinates. Probably his bosses were either tolerant, indifferent or were with him for too short a period to make a major difference to his career. It was a worthwhile life. The tomfoolery the handling of emergency situations and finally the sadness that he felt when he would go home. This set off a new trend of thought... He was paying home loan . When  he was in service it did not pinch all that much. But with just the pension coming in he would be hard pressed to pay the monthly instalments. But he brightened up when he remembered that he would be getting a lump sum amount from his department. But should he clear the loan or not -was the question that was plaguing him. The internet did not offer any viable solution. Of  the few that he read -(3678534 results 0.10 secs) - they were all equally divided in their opinion. He decided to pose the question on his group in WhatsApp. The discussion was lively but yielded little result. While some were for clearing the loan the others told me to sell the house. "You are not going to take the house anywhere after death" they said. Better would be to sell the house and live off the proceedings. Or rather the interest on the proceedings. "What about the children"? He asked. Promptly came the reply "you have contributed to their birth education and even ensured that they got into higher studies. What more can you do?" He disagreed but could not find the courage to put it in the group. 

     Days passed he was closer to retirement. The need to safeguard the cash that he was getting as a lump sum took him back to the net and of course to his WhatsApp groups. Invest in ritual funds, start a systematic investment plan, put your money in fixed deposits, buy property,  buy stocks,set up a start up business- there was no lack of  advice - only his reluctance to step out of his comfort zone. He already was having sleepless nights about the money he had yet to receive and invest. Each day resulted in thinking up new actions that he had to take prior to retirement so as to ensure a trouble free after - retirement life. It was not fair life used to be so simple when he was a child his parents were responsible for everything and one only needed to bother about his next meal and the rest would  take care of itself. 

     Now in his adulthood goalposts shifted everyday. Whether it was clearing his senior secondary exam or getting a good rank in a competitive exam so that he could make it in a good college or work hard thereafter to get a good job or after he got a good job spend money and time to acquire a girl friend, convince her parents to get hitched to her ( A needless expense he now realized). Birth of the first child. Everything was good the child grew up happily. That was until the novelty of the first child waned. The grandparents wanted more. Their logic was irrefutable. A single child did not have much scope of growing with responsibility. A second child would teach the first to adjust to the society. Teach the first child to share. The pressure got to him. He got to work to produce the second child. Then started the whole cycle all over again. Admissions homework exams projects sicknesses rebellion competition etc. Class X Class XII admission to a professional course. The responsibilities never ended...

     Just when he was hoping to sit back and relax he suddenly came to the realisation that  all his life he had struggled and now was the time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of his long years of service- but would he be able to ....?

The Perfect Murder.

           I was meeting my friend after a long time. When we were in school we were BFFs. We were called the odd couple in school. She was beautiful calm and collected and I was boisterous and something of a tomboy. She was good at studies and I - well - I was average. She did not socialise much while I had all sorts of friends and boyfriends. By the time we were in the twelfth grade people in school were betting on my

 repeating the grade, while she was touted to top the school - if not the state. To prove my detractors wrong, I pulled out all stops, dug into my reserves and somehow managed to graduate from school. Our interests being different,  the time had come for me to say goodbye to my friend. It was a poignant moment when we had to part ways.  We promised to keep in touch. For better part of the ensuing years we did manage to keep in touch . She graduated at the top of her class and I did reasonably well to stay afloat. I joined the police after clearing the Indian Police Service exam, thus gaining the distinction of being the select few women from my school to do so. Pressures of the job and some hiccups on the personal front made our meetings and correspondence non existent over a period of time. 

          On one of our infrequent calls that we now communicated on she suddenly dropped a bombshell  that she was now married. The news was so momentous that I was stunned. The feeling of hurt came in later - at her not inviting me to her nuptials. I philosophized that she must have her reasons for not doing so... Perhaps the hurt festered in my subconscious resulting in distance between us being increased all the more. For the next few years we did not speak at all. Whenever I did think about her I rationalized that she was happily married and this kept me from disturbing her marital bliss. 

          My professional duties finally landed me in the city wher she was staying. The thought of meeting her after such a long time gave me goosebumps. Of course I sent out my minions to get her address. Not like her to be on the facebook or instagram or any other social media . She had a different phone number too. It was clear that she did not want to be in contact. In anycase my police resources pitted against the puny efforts of my friend to stay incognito proved to be victorious when I was handed her adress as well  as her phone number. When I contacted her she did not seem surprised. There were a lot of questions in my mind - but she cut me off saying - " Why don't we meet up at _____" She gave me the name of an upscale hotel in the city. I had to  curb my questions till we met in person.

            My heart was full of excitement at the thought of meetingher.  When she walked in a few minutes later, all heads turned. The sari clung to her figure as if it was customized for her. She wore her age well. No polite pecks on the cheeks for us - we hugged each other long and hard. All the years of being apart just faded away in that one contact. We sat across each other silently savoring the togetherness. We spoke at once- "So-" "How-" our words clashed somewhere in the mid table region -we burst out laughing. The preliminaries of ordering the drinks being done away with, I said "congratulations on your marriage" I said. The response to my greetings were hardly what I expected. She didn't say much and changed the topic, asking me about my marital status and as to my activity in the intervening years. I launched on a long drawn tale of my ups and downs and as to how it all culminated in my joining the police force. Her delight at my success was reflected in the joy on her face. We navigated the next hour or so without her ever referring to her family life. My curiosity was more than ever at its peak and in one of those pregnant pauses which are a part of any conversation I managed bring up the subject of her family once more. 

          "I don't have any children" she said. "And I thank my stars that we have been issueless". I was shocked at this indifference.  Perhaps this was seen on my face , because she continued "oh and my husband passed away recently" she said. I was stunned - not by the fact that her her husband was dead but - by the casual manner in which she mentioned it. I was at loss for words; "Tell me about it " was all  I could say. She took a gulp of water and she started off by saying, "Do you know how as children we craved for stability - and as we grew older we hoped that we would get a husband as good as our dads used to be?" I let her continue. After a brief pause she launched into her life story. Somehow I felt that it was going to be a long evening , I surreptitiously sent a message to my office that I was unavailable for the rest of the evening, 

          "After I graduated I met this amazing man" she continued "or so I thought" she said. "My husband was a cruel sadistic and a horrible person. He started picking on every small fault of mine and magnified it. My life became a living hell with him. That is  until I conceived. I was hoping against hope that it would improve my lot. And for a period it did. And then one day he came home in a bad mood and started thrashing me for  reasons beyond my comprehension. Was he drunk probably I would have forgiven him. But I could see that malicious look of enjoyment on his face - as though he was pleasuring himself. I could see that cruel sadistic streak surfacing in his eyes. I went through a gamut of emotions. The foremost among them being that of protecting my yet unborn child... "

          "I woke up in a hospital with the doctor waiting to confirm my wellbeing. Once the doctor had done that, he told me with appropriate gravity and compassion that I had lost my child. For the next few hours I was in a state of shock and depression. I knew that any complaint by me would be quashed by my husband's wealth. Then I thought of putting an end to my misery by killing myself. Then the anger in me took over. If anything - I reasoned- it was my husband who had to pay and not me." She was silent for a moment with a faraway look in her eyes. And then she said "I decided to kill him".

          I hastened to remind her that I was a police officer and any such confession might be detrimental to her welfare. She continued as though she had not heard me. "After a few days in the hospital I went home. Many methods of putting him away came to me , but I discarded all of them because each scenario ended in my going to jail - which I was not prepared to do so. After that incident my husband left me alone to myself. Each day of life with him was a torture more so when we went into a lockdown due to COVID-19. Rather than stay at home, I decided to help in the local hospital as a volunteer. And there the plan to kill my husband concretised. I found out that a lot of people with previously existing conditions were more vulnerable to death due to COVID 19."

          I tried to interrupt but she put up her hand stalling any protestations from me. " I put the first part of my plan in action - which was to contract COVID-19. With my deliberate flaunting of rules for prevention, it was not long before I contracted it. I could feel the headache and bodyache as well as the sense of loss of smell which were a part of the symptoms. A test at an anonymous lab confirmed my suspiscions. I was COVID positive. The second part of the plan was to keep my symptoms a secret - which I managed admirably with the help of a few medications and good acting. I put up with my husband for the next few days including his carnal needs without  a protest. The close proximity of those few days proved successful, when one morning he woke up with a fever and bodyaches.

          The next few days I nursed him. Things took a turn for the worse when he started experiencing breathing difficuties. I moved him to the hospital. The next few days  were crucial to my plan. The doctors did their best. But his existing conditions of asthma and diabetes did the rest for me. One morning the doctor woke me up to inform me that my husband was no more."

          "He died intestate and as his legal wedded wife I was the sole heir to his millions."  She stopped here to take a breath and refresh herself with a drink. I did'nt know what to say. Her story left me incapable of speech. The legal ramifications in this case were nil. No way that she could be prosecuted.

          In fact it was the perfect murder. 

          I think the reason that my friend told me the story was because of the huge burden she was bearing - which she wanted to lighten. After a few more minutes of awkward talk we promised to meet again.

          As I left the hotel I was filled both with admiration and loathing for what my friend did. Admiration being the dominant emotion. Just as i stepped out I received  a call from my boss. He was an insufferable ass whose main concern was to keep his subordinates on their toes in an insulting manner. Maybe time has come to try on my boss what my friend did to her husband..... 

  

The Good Doctor

          

          The interview took place in the doctor's office. Today seemed to be a relatively free day and the doctor(D) seemed  relaxed for the Q&A. It was with great reluctance that the doctor granted the interview and we were relievd that we would finally get some answers. We had been the patients who navigated the COVID trail successfully under the doctor's treatment. And in our misplaced endeavour to help future patients we decided to get a first hand account of  treatment meted out to us by the good doctor. The doctor was short with us; "What is there to know? It is a blessing that you are okay and that should be enough for you". We mumbled something about being altruistic andclearing the misconceptions about the disease. "What is in it for me?" said the doctor. We were vague about the name and fame that the doctor would gain - the doctor gave a derisive laugh and clarified that the query was about monetery gains. After a few minutes of sordid bargaining we settled on an acceptable secret figure. And so started the interview.

Us: What medicines are to be used for COVID?

D :  Did I not give you a prescription? 

Us:  Doctor your handwriting is - pardon our saying so - illegible to the normal human being...

At this point the doctor nearly terminated the interview. It took a lot of persuasion and honeyed words to soothe the bruised ego. 

D: Rather than talk about curative procedures I would like to talk about prevention of this diesease. Everyone wants to go to heaven but no one wants to die first.

Us: And why do you say that doctor?

D: No reason at all. I just wanted to use that quote; (We looked at her dumbfounded. Our speechlessness put the doctor in a good mood)  

Us: You were talking abot prevention...

D: Prevention is better than cure.(The Doctor pontificated). It takes very little to prevent this disease. Washing of hands with soap. Wearing a mask - 

Us: we already know about that (We interrupted). There is a lot of material on this in the Government pamphlets-

D: Yes Yes (It was a season for interruptions). Who would like to go through the pain of of suffering if they can avoid it?

Us: OK doctor . Tell us about prevention.(We recapitulated)

D: The important thing is (in addition to wearing mask and washing hands and social distancing ) to boost ones' immunity. Having Zinc tablets twice a day with vitamin C D and E will help boost immunity.

Us: What about ayurveda? Are there any immunity boosters?

D: as a matter of fact yes. Chyavanprash is an immunity booster. It has a high percentage of amla (Vit C) and flavanoids (which are natural antioxidants). These help in boosting immunity. Natural spices as used in the daily food also boost immunity.

Us: In the event that someone is unfortunate to get the disease how do we go about the treatment?

D: In this world we (the doctors) are the only people who believe in the positivity of negativity. A patient who tests positive is a danger for the medical fraternity also. In the event a person does test positive the most important thing for that person is to isolate themselves -

Us: What is the difference between quarantine and Isolation?

D: People who are sick should go into isolation and people who are suspected of the disease should have their movements restricted till either they are cleared or contract the disease. People who are in Isolation should eat their food in he room they are confined to. Inanimate utensils should also be confined/ they should eat in paper plates. Anyhow these are very broad outlines. Duration can be confirmed from the medical provider. 

Us: Doctor now about the treatment...

D: Why are you on about this treatment? This is a new disease and the treatment is not standardised. Depending on the severity of the disease it is upto the medical provider whether to confine a patient at home or hospitalise the patient. Treatment is mostly symptomatic, including betadine gargles for sore throat, rehydration for diarrhea, fever is treated with paracetomal and body aches with appropriate pain relievers.

Us: Doctor you treated us with antibiotics....

D: Antibiotics is for treating co-infections of bacteria - not for COVID

Us: (We were waiting for the doctor to use the ("Co" word)  Doctor lot of people use this word co morbid - what does it mean?

D:  People who have pre-existing conditions such hypertension. heart problem, Diabetes etc are more vulnerable to the disease as are those who smoke. Liquor  provides sanitisation inside the body. so booze is good. 

Us: (We looked at the doctor incredulously) (The doctor burst out laughing)

D: Only Joking....

Us: (We looked at one another in wild surmise at this sudden levity of the doctor) ....

D:   No I have not lost my mental equilibrium (the doctor protested) . But because of the unknowns of the  disease people can go into depression - especially old people. Care must be taken to look for these signs.

Us: Doctor what is the social responsibility towards this disease.

D: Good Question. It comes into play once a person gets infected. It is the responsibility of that family to report the matter,quarantine themselves, inform the people in contact so that further spread of the diesease can be contained.

Us: Doctor.. 

D: I have not finished. (The doctor said rather rudely- we thought). It is also the responsibility of the society to care of those infected. And the media has contributed to raising the panic of the general populace. (The doctor said glaring at us). The disease, to spread, requires sustained contact. Rational handling and a cool head will help assuaging the fears of the populace.

            Seeing that the doctor was worked up we decided to end the interview, while the going was still good. In any case we got most of the information that we had come to gather. A hurried goodbye we left to publish the article .

The Untouchables

          It started as a niggle in the throat. As was usual I dismissed it as an onset of cold. It could'nt have come at a more inconvenient time . My wife was down with a sore throat and general feeling of tiredness. She was already on antibiotics and all other medications as were applicable to her condition. She took undue advantage of the situation and started sleeping through the day. Again the condition was attributed to normal cold symptoms. And so the first two to three days passed by. All the time I was worried that my cold would worsen and I would end up totally incapable of doing anything - as is the case in normal cold.Mininstations of vicks and gargles of betadine did not help my wife from recovering from her condition. 

          The danger signals were there but we did not recognize them. While we were not able to breeze through our normal day to day routines, we were able to get by.

Doctor in the House

          My daughter who was with us is a doctor. As is the case with most doctors she assumed the worst. A slight cough or forcible clearing of the throat immediately brough her to our room with a number of questions as to why we were clearing our throat/coughing or for that matter any aberration physiologically had her fussing over us with her giving us third degree on the various problems thereafter. So much so that we became apprehensive of her presence and started coughing or cleaaring our throat on the sly. Matters did come to a head when the doctor in the house put her foot down and forced us to go for the dreaded COVID-19 test. Rather than face repeated questioning, we consented for the test.

Hindsight

          They say that hindsight always makes it easy  to be wise after the event (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle). I remember going to the workshop to get my vehicle serviced. As is my practice I opted for an early morning appointment, so that after the delivery of the vehicle I could walk back home and so complete my morning workout. I did walk back but the going was tough. I attributed it to the wearing of the mask and the 'cold' which I had. Now I realise that there was more to it than just the cold and the mask. Comprehension often comes too late (another of my favorite hindsight quotes).

The Test

          One fine morning we - all three of us got into the car, put on our masks and went to the hospital. Then started the torture of filling up of the forms, producing a prescription to get the test done and the production of ID for proving that it is indeed you who is getting the test done. And the waiting. That is what gets you. Added to this is the other patients coming and sitting next to you. I found an ingenous way to keep them away from me. Anyone who came to sit next to me - I told them that I was getting tested for COVID 19. The look of horror on their face when they moved away from me in quick time was priceless. A three hour wait and a quick swab of the throat and the test was over.

The Aftermath

          The consequences of our test hit us hard. Waiting for the result was interminable. In real time for about three days. During this time we checked up all our past transgressions and contacts to check up where we met someone who might have been responsible for our going for the test. We drew a blank. By now my wife was getting slightly better and sleeping only for about eighteen hours a day. The day of reckoning was finally upon us and we were diagnosed as having tested positive. The doctor proved to be right in her diagnosis.

The Untouchables

          We were immediately confined to our room. The mattter was reported to the housing society. Within a few hours the entire society of six hundred flats knew of our predicament. Our block was sealed. My daughter issued us disposable plates glasses and spoons. We survived on the food that my wife had cooked that morning for the whole day. We had to forego our daily cup of coffee because of milk not being delivered. The dog was removed from our room. A general sense of foreboding enveloped the house. Clothes were washed in the washbasin and we felt unloved. The next day also proved to be equally bleak and hopeless. The dog could not be taken for a walk.

The Silver Lining

          Soon requisition was put in to a lab to carry out testing other inmates of the home  to ensure that thay did not contract the diesease while we were waiting for the result and freely roaming about the house blissfully unaware of the impending doom. Thankfully their result was negative and this proved to be a positive outcome to help boost our morale.

The Good People

          Meanwhile messages of "get well soon" from all quarters were working wonders on our psyche. We were getting better. A lady from the neighbourhood offered to help walk our dog - it did wonders to our own digestion - knowing that the dog was getting his daily exercise. A close friend cooked food for us for the next fourteen days . This helped us eat palatable food during our incarceration. My old school mate staying on the floor above us helped us by getting us groceries and milk everyday. There are good people still existing in this world.

Recovery

          The goodwill of the people around us and passing time has helped us recover totally. My wife's tiredness has now left her and she sleeps only 14 hours a day. My sense of smell which had deserted me has gradually returned. The fourteen days of incarceration were at an end. Only one thing remained before my daughter/ doctor declared us fit to resume our day to day routine - a re-test. The atmosphere was palpable with tension, when we gave our sample - this time our nose swab - very painful and makes you want to sneeze. When the result was disclosed we were declared to be negative. This morning I took my dog out for a walk.....