Quiet Noticings

By the window    I was sitting under a fan in our small 2-BHK home, a plate of rice in front of me. It was late afternoon. Lunch had stretched close to four while Homebound played on the television. My body felt dull and feverish. The previous day I had eaten rich, sugary food far beyond what my body could comfortably handle. The next day my body sent its quiet protest. Nothing dramatic. Just heaviness, a tired head, a slow body. On the screen, Shoaib was carrying Chandan on his shoulders. Not symbolically. Literally carrying him. A man exhausted and ill, slumped across his friend’s back, while bags hung from his shoulders and arms. They had already walked for days. Their home was around twelve hundred kilometres away from the place they had been working. Lockdown had stopped transport, so they walked. Sometimes they managed to climb onto passing trucks for a short distance. But when Chandan looked sick, fear spread quickly. COVID had turned illness into suspicion. Drivers as...