Coming to terms with tough measures like lockdowns

There is no chanting or tolling of bells or calls to prayers. There’s not even the chatter of people on the streets. The chirrup of birds is all I hear in the morning— placid, peaceful, silent.

At home I notice an unusual quiet as everyone keeps to themselves – there’s no hurry, no one’s searching for pencils, pens, notebooks or water bottles. Lunchboxes aren’t being packed and there’s no preschool pandemonium or kids shouting. In the balcony where the family usually gathers for a chat, everyone competes for the newspapers that arrive late. None reads them as avidly as they contain mostly dismal graphs and charts of the coronavirus’ global rampage.

At breakfast, there is no idli, chutney or sambar. Even the mixer grinder has gone silent. All that remains is cornflakes, a glass of milk and one banana. The 11 am coffee has gone AWOL along with the help. Maybe it’s time one took up that lean diet. On the TV, newsreaders and anchors present an apocalyptic vision of the world.

Images of people swarming bus depots and climbing through windows remind you of the film Titanic, where panic-stricken passengers rush to board lifeboats.

Disappointed by those violating the norms of social distancing, I think about donning my khaki once again, to instil discipline among the unruly masses. But, I also feel gratitude towards doctors and healthcare workers who constantly expose themselves to danger. I think about policemen and government staffers who leave families behind to slog it out on streets and offices to keep the state safe.

During such moments of chaos, our collective vocabularies also tend to get refreshed – in 2004, we all learned what a tsunami was. Now, it’s social distancing, lockdown and curfew.

Anthropologists are of the view that social distancing would mean ostracising a set of people. A few physicians have expressed that the phrase ‘physical distancing’ is more appropriate. In fact, in Australia, people have already begun using the latter in daily parlance. Another phrase that has now become popular is Section 144, of the Criminal Procedure Code (CPC). It is a section of law that empowers district/ sub divisional/executive magistrates to promulgate orders, among others, to prevent danger to human life and health.

The order by the magistrate is usually enforced for an upper limit of two months. However, the government can choose to impose it for a maximum period of six months.

At a macro level, the lockdown has led to a reduction in pollution and substantial savings on the energy and fuel front. On a micro level, families have gotten an opportunity to come closer and enjoy group activities like board games, and even hobbies like reading and listening to music.

So, at noon, I tune in to the TV once again. And I see someone blaming the government for being unprepared to deal with the crisis. Perhaps, only those who have worked with the government know what it takes to handle a calamity such as this. The governments – both at the Centre and State levels are doing their best. But they desperately need our support. It might be a good idea to inculcate some discipline now and abide by the guidelines of the lockdown, however hard they may be