Indeed, Coviditus has become a boring subject. The trajectory of change in a fast-moving technologically advanced world has left us all impoverished both in terms of economy and health. Newspapers and television are swollen with information on spiralling cases and horror stories. There is no one who can truthfully say that he or she is unaffected. Some of us are lucky to have roti, kapda and makaan, while the underprivileged battle on bravely, with no light at the end of the tunnel.
My interaction with elders living in our family and growing up watching their age-related problems of mobility and other health conditions prompted me, along with dedicated volunteers, to establish Udhavi seven years ago to bring light into the lives of seniors. Unfortunately, for the past three months amid the lockdown, we are unable to function as before but we now call them regularly and connect them to services.
Having worked with elders most of my adult life, I know that the lockdown brings in its wake feelings of diffidence, low self-esteem, and an inability to accept the claustrophobic containment, made worse by the impatience of the younger members of the family. I find that many elders suffer from depression, wondering if they will live to see their children or grandchildren who have moved abroad for jobs. The hardest hit are the elders who live alone with no family within calling distance. Some elders are locked in with a live-in maid.
Each of us, elders included, should address the new normal and accept it, as life is not going to be the same as it was. When you wake up in the morning and express gratitude for all your blessings in this dangerous situation, it can lighten your mood. Bathing and dressing up pleasantly gives a sense of self-confidence. Many people I know have given up the clothes they normally wear for the comfort of loose nighties or gowns. Why not opt for smart caftans instead? The reply is that nobody comes home anyway. But do we dress for others or for ourselves?
Proximity and being locked in with your family for three months brings its share of tension, and tempers are on the rise. It makes it worse to have to look at a woman or man with overgrown and unkempt hair or beard, wearing the shabbiest of clothes. I dress for myself (and for my domestic help). I might not wear saris now but I wear kurtas, ironed well. I sometimes replace the salwars or churidars with lungis instead, which are comfortable and smart. We can set new COVID fashions! Even if you haven’t had a hair cut in three months, your hair can be kept neatly in a bun or braid. It has now grown long enough for you to get a new hairstyle once this wretched pandemic is over.
And if you still have the energy to cook, it is wonderful therapy. Getting back to the kitchen after you have had someone do your basic cooking isn’t easy, but once you get into the routine you will enjoy it. I have friends who are trying out new recipes. Even the men have started cooking. I try out dishes I haven’t made in years, even if they are a trifle complicated. Since I live alone with a maid, I find I am actually cooking for her since I eat very little. Her childlike appreciation of my cooking encourages me to do more.
I have accumulated plenty of milk, so my woman Jeeves hinted broadly that she loves kheer. Even if it means having to stand over the stove waiting for the milk to thicken, I mean to do it in a day or two. And since I have an aversion for anything sweet, you know who is going to consume most of it. All for a good cause, don’t you think?
sabi.kittu@outlook.com