Emerging from Lockdown in Hyderabad

By Bhavana Nissima 

(Editor's Note: The author, a resident of Hyderabad in central India, taught communications, research service learning, women studies at the University of New Mexico, in the 2000s and 2010s. With India facing a severe health emergency because of the rapid spread of COVID-19 infections, many residents of that country are in lockdown. "The situation is terrible in my city with massive shortage of oxygen cylinders and ventilator/icu beds," said the author. In this piece posted on social media in early May, she offers a glimpse of her personal experience in Hyderabad).

Good morning folks. I finally stepped out of home yesterday and saw my first live humans in ten days. It felt so good when the owner of sweetshop waited on the top of his stairs until our eyes connected, greeted and then went on his way.

And I met my coconut seller. He smiled and told he had his first vaccine dose. And pulled out his new face shield -- I got this too, he said with eyes glistening.

A man twinkling through this Pandemic. Alive, awake.

Two months back I had asked him for his review of last year. He shared about how the coconut business works, the massive network of humans originating from Karnataka, coconut growers, the gatherers, the trucks, the gatherers in Telangana and how it reaches him.

All of them relatives, he said firmly. I had stared at him, wondering if "relative" is a way of saying or actual social-blood connection. And their business had done well. They had jazzed the challenges of transport and transit, he declared.

I realised I was holding him as this lonely coconut vendor in an uncaring street, selling a fruit for measly amount of money. What I didn't notice was he didn't experience himself as alone. He was an aspect of a community in flow. And he knew that flow was robust. Like an ant trail.

He wasn't shaken by the Pandemic. Not then, not now.

I envied him greatly.

And I watched him as he filled my bottles with coconut water. How he pokes a coconut, senses it with his whole-body-relative knowing, performing the coconut seller ritual, how he sometimes stands with his arms on his waist frustrated, and then goes to search in another heap. And how he slices off the top, pierces a hole and pours.

He is present. He is present.

And I thought, those of us who can breathe, are we breathing? Are we aware of how the air touches the roof of our nostrils, how the chest heaves, and how it makes its way inside?

Are we all here? Here where time has ceased to be.

This is my wish for you today -- that you can return to your breath multiple times in the day.

Take care you ❤️