Just Another End Of Day Rant

 One lesson learned from the current pandemic must be: 

If you are idiotic, incompetent and clueless during the initial critical phase (say, the first three to four months...in the current case, from Jan to April 2020), then it is best to be totally idiotic for the rest of the pandemic.

There is no point in talking about what could have been done.

What do we have now? A million active cases any day, with so-called low mortality of 0.1% or so, that is, about 1000 deaths a day. (Yawn!) 

It would actually be more interesting if the mortality rate was defined as the ratio of number of deaths to the number of symptomatic cases (or, the number that required hospitalisation).

Isn’t it time the news stopped covering the pandemic? What’s tomorrow’s news: 100000 new cases, 1000 new deaths?! How boring. If the government wants to put the blame on opposition protests, the numbers will be 150000 and 2000 respectively. As if that’s news!?

Isn’t it time we brought down the coronavirus from its high pedestal?

Why bother to test aggressively and properly in containment zones or in areas with suspected clusters?

If someone comes to a clinic or hospital with symptoms of covid-19, do the RT-PCR test (please, not the antigen test with 30% reliability) and if positive, provide required treatment, hospitalise if required. Period. 

Treat it like any other disease. Treat it like the many lifestyle diseases you probably have. No statistics in the newspaper. If there is a covid death, incinerate and forget; like cases with swine flu, or any poor guy’s death.

As for the public, let them do what they like. If they want to wear masks or wash hands, so be it. Again, like any lifestyle disease, let it be the person’s choice.

That is not news. 

News should be about idiotic politicians and their great deeds; idiotic actors and their actions offstage; a few suicides if interesting and noteworthy; elections of course and please do make it sound as if they matter; some tweets that have gone viral; and, of course, the latest fashionable protest (hashtag bugger MarkZ?).

And, don’t you dare cut out the fake news. Geez! That’s the best part of my day.

Snapshots

The past isn’t what it used to be.

Comrades-in-arms walking along—

A half-truth: I walked, they did not.

The future will be what it won’t be.

In ashes or dementia, the best bets.

Strife and penury, there’s momentum there.

Now, the present isn’t what it is, is it?

The blank space in the triptych—

Without a shadow, without a murmur.

Know The Other Not So Well

One of the paradoxes in life is: if one wants a meaningful relationship with another, one should not know the other well and vice versa.

I am a member of two virtual groups. 

One group I joined about a decade back and only a few members in that group showed any interest in knowing me. A few used to read my stories. When they realised my stories revealed too much about me, most of them stopped reading my stories. With this group, I can speak my mind. I can poke them about god, religion, great leaders and such intimate matters. When I write badly (or rather, when they think so), they ignore my writing.

The other group I joined a few days back. But I have known most of them since childhood, and even kept track of the adulthood sins of a few. After the initial round of pleasant greetings, I assumed the smiling Buddha pose. They talk about ayurveda for cancer treatment. I smile. They talk about making money in such an economy. I smile. That is the problem of knowing each other too well. We know the childhood trauma of most; we know who all are still crazy; we know who used to kill cats; we know who was sexually awakened by Archie’s Betty and Veronica, Archie’s Reggie and Jughead, and George Michael, of course. None of them want to read my stories. They know me enough.

Next time you hear about millions supporting an idiotic great leader, smile. Try to imagine the childhood trauma they must have gone through.