In Bengaluru, my stomach is full, and 1500 miles away, my mom’s heart

It had only been a few days that I had come back to Bengaluru from home. While COVID-19 had become the talk of newsrooms, it was just starting to seep into the conversations of laymen.

Needless to say, my parents were worried too. More so, they were ruffled that I left home, only a few days before the lockdown was announced, left with no option to come back.

It was the announcement of the nationwide lockdown.

Later that evening, my mom had video-called me the sixth time. I picked it up and said, “Don’t worry mama, I’ll be okay. You know I like to live by myself.”

It’s not exactly a lie; I do like living alone. But in the times of COVID-19, especially when you are not feeling your best self physically, and are in a mental turmoil, owing to the escalated anxiety, ensuing from the air of panic all around you; living alone is not particularly a vacation. Self-care, an unlikely proposition.

Worse is that you cannot tell your family that you might not be feeling all that great. The idea of my old man and woman stressing and putting their health at risk, is any day scarier.

Even when my thoughts and feelings were vehemently colliding, and my will was paralysed, I knew I had to make do. I had not stocked up on groceries and there’s not much cooking I am sensible of. Ordering in food, though not the safest choice, was my only option to fuel my body.

But, initially, that too witnessed a disruption. Not just in terms of availability, but also quality. Most times, I could not finish my meal, other times, I threw up immediately after. I had lost my appetite.

Until I got a call from my landlady, who lives on the ground floor, asking me to come down. A plate of piping hot sambhar and angel-white idlis were approaching me, in the hands of my saviour.

The lady who I had only talked to a few times, mostly when I would go to pay the rent, has been selflessly feeding me every day. From Idlis and dosas to paranthas and daal chawal, I would have never gotten to appreciate the magic of her cooking, if she hadn’t been so kind.

While I do get heartbroken thinking about the people who do not have food to sustain, and are not so blessed to have someone like Ravinder aunty by their side, this does give me a little hope in these dejected times. While I wish all of us find our saviours, I hope that all of us become saviours for whoever we can, too. I hope we not just come through this crisis, but emerge kinder.

My family group on WhatsApp is now swamped with the pictures of all the idlis and dosas that keep me going. Here, in Bengaluru, my stomach is full, and 1500 miles away, my mom’s heart.