There will be a tomorrow when people will realise that yesterday need not have happened.
Then, people might realise that the spies knew about what was being held captive in China long before the Chinese government released it.
Then, people might wonder why their governments did nothing. Don’t they have these handbooks on every leader’s desk? (Chapter one: What not to do in a nuclear disaster. Two or three: The rapid growth of an epidemic, natural or man-made, with R-nought greater than 1.)
I am one of the lucky ones.
My country and its spies acted fast.
January 1, I returned home. Or tried to.
At the airport, I was taken to a military truck. Every international traveler and their local contacts, from December 1, have to be in a detention centre for a mandatory four-week quarantine. My country has no dearth of that. Millions can disappear. Healthcare is minimal but sufficient.
Later, I learned that the rich and the famous stayed in resorts converted into detention centres. They could pay for it. Life there could not have been better than that in the free B&B.
I was given a well-sealed room with attached bathroom. There is a sensor on the wall which records my temperature. Breathing and complaints are recorded. Food is delivered via a chute, the eco-friendly remains are disposed the same way, hopefully not recycled.
I remembered my good old student days. Hostels in premier institutions provide adequate prep. One gets to know that the crème de la crème is usually a dirty bum. There were other helpful experiences too: the loo at cultural and sports events (a hole in the ground with two planks for one to balance on; how the acoustics changed day by day; plop, plup-plup), the food served during those events and on cheap school excursions (oh, just remove the cockroach and have the uppuma, it is a baby roach after all, don’t be such a fuss).
Compared to that, life was great.
It was like hostel life in some ways. I was in 20014. I had two ‘sideys’ in 20012 and 20015 and a ‘backie’ in 20034. There were no 13’s.
The sidey to the right was a wheezer who kept playing the same track of Tom Petty in a loop. At one point, I asked the administration to check if the wheezer was still alive. They told me to mind my own business. The one to the left was a farter. If only he did not apologise each time. “Sorry, it’s the eggs and the dal.” That somehow brought with it sulphurous air. Imagination can go wild in solitary confinement. The backie was a noisy one. The bed swayed and creaked whole day. On day three, I protested. “Geez, man, could you please stop wanking?” There was a brief pause. “I am exercising,” a young lady replied. “On the bed?” I asked. “Duh, old man...I don’t have my exercise mat.” No contact after that. Till she developed a sore-throat. God, she created such a fuss. Even wheezer pitched in with a different Petty track. It turned out to be just a sore-throat. No contact ever since. Apart from the creaking bed. Duh.
I listened to the sound of metallic wheels of stretchers on rough concrete. The slow lazy stroll of the Grim Reaper to the morgue. The hurried rush to a ventilator. I thought they came for the wheezer one night. I was relieved to hear the same old song next day. The wheeze sounded different. I didn’t ask, “Hey 20012, you the same?”
The newspaper told me that life was normal outside. The markets marched ahead. People pumped their life-savings in mutual funds and not in banks with measly returns for deposits. There was no concept of risk out there. Oh, I didn’t really read too much of the rag. For a day or two, they mentioned our growing numbers. They stopped when the latest Ranaut-Kumar patriotic thriller produced better numbers.
I thought a lot about a lady I saw when I entered detention. Those eyes. What was she doing here? Thirty years since I saw her last. Was she a doctor here? I can’t be sure if it was her. She was in the protective ‘spacesuit’ gear. It could be her daughter. Or her son. My thoughts have to be platonic because of that. Those eyes I will remember to my dying day. Not for long.
The four weeks got over.
Administration told us there is a delay in release.
No one outside wanted us out.
Can’t blame them. I would have done the same.
But there is hope, always. They need these centres for the other lot.
