Sometime in March last year, as the pandemic unleashed its fury all around, there seemed to be no choice left but to retreat inside—become insular and cut away from everything and everyone that was once essential and dear to us.
In Mumbai, as lockdowns restrictions were announced, our collective world began to change. Suddenly, we had to play many roles at the same time—parents, teachers, professionals, housekeepers and cooks. My husband's corporate job and my brand advisory work now took place under the same roof as my daughter's virtual school. Things became pretty hard and we struggled to find an acceptable routine. Our nine-year old Jiya became isolated and lonely and hungered for human contact. Living in a bungalow didn't seem like a great idea after all! We trudged along, but Jiya remained our focus—her mental wellbeing became a priority and we started plotting our escape from the city.
Opportunity soon presented itself when flights reopened towards the end of May last year. We got onto the first flight out to Chandigarh. Armed with masks, sanitisers and a hazmat suit for airport dressing, it wasn't as uneventful as it sounds, but amidst chaos and uncertainty we managed to reach our family farmhouse on the outskirts of Chandigarh for our compulsory quarantine.
And what a sight it was for sore eyes! Acres and acres of green gardens, blossoming trees and a deliciously cool pool awaited us. Add to that the smells and sound of the first rain of the season and we were in heaven. Jiya ran in the gardens, played with the farm hands, made clay pots and went on long drives with us in the neighbourhood. We huddled close and watched—cows being milked, fields being harvested and during our village walks even witnessed food being cooked on stoves using bio-gas.
It was the best kind of education that we could have given her. She learnt about different varieties of trees and plants, watched the food chain play out in front of her eyes and learnt about the importance of insects in agriculture.
Three weeks later, post our quarantine, we went to live at our family home in Chandigarh. Once Jiya got through the initial hurdles of learning to live with three generations of family, she discovered a new, unhurried pace of living never known to her earlier. Fifteen-minute school breaks now meant two rounds on her cycle around the park outside our home. Summer afternoons were spent listening to mythological stories from her grandmother and early morning routines involved assisting my father in tending to his micro green garden. Hectic playdates gave way to simpler times spent running around the garden with her cousins and playing with the water hose. There were many lessons to be learnt, from empathy to sharing to learning to appreciate an alternate point of view. It provided her with immense scope to evolve and grow.