While the anxiety levels are drawing their sullied power over our tenacity from the current atmosphere, the stinging upheaval of remorseful moans fills the soul of those looking forward to their morning tea or evening walks.

A stricken feeling of loneliness while being cut-off from the entire world is overwhelmed by the sudden sense of loss. The mind wanders to moments of the past to seek their presence in those good-ole’ days only to stare into the abyss of the present.

The possibility of this experience being surreal for thousands of people is the burden that the crown bore until now. It has been the pursuit of more than a billion people to scourge the pandemic from the face of this illustrious earth.

If these appeals fall on deafening ears, it does not make those who do not heed them, right. It makes them a culprit at best and a victim at worst. Not a single day goes by when I do not empathize with the tremors of pain inflicted upon the thousands across the world.

In the loneliness of his exile, and in the gloom of the rains, his ailing body needed a little tender nursing. He longed to remember the touch on the forehead of soft hands with tinkling bracelets, to imagine the presence of loving womanhood, the nearness of mother and sister.

Rabindranath Tagore in “the Postmaster”

There is a sense of mystery that drives a quelling to seek answers to a boundless question – when will this end?