<p>The isolation and lockdown necessitated by the pandemic recently threw up several challenges – many overt but quite a few covert. Things at home that had remained in cold storage for decades on one or the other pretext resurfaced much like an old enemy. The lockdown left me with no escape route out of one such covert issue. Much to my chagrin, this was like ‘reopening an old case file’ namely cleaning up a room with tons of old books, reading material, old letters and the like. Smelling blood, my wife pounced on me insisting that all this be cleared before the lockdown ends and even prepared a duty roster detailing everyday cleanup hours.</p>.<p>Unwillingly, I set out on my mega assignment. No sooner had I dusted up the first carton of books, when I found a letter written by an old friend who now worked abroad. Reading through this, my mind rewound 28 years, reliving the good times we had as friends, hostel mates. This reverie caused my brain to jump from one nostalgic memory to another and a precious hour was lost on this letter alone. "How is it going?" my wife asked, nudging me out from my trance. Jolted by the warning, I decided perforced not to read any other letters henceforth but instead focus on the job on hand. That's when I chanced upon a first-year medical college book. Memories of the trials and tribulations as also the good times of the first year at medical college came flooding back and needless to say, I was drowning in a whirlpool of old thoughts yet again. The postprandial session of cleanup was admittedly tardy and I was left enjoying a siesta in the dark vault. Electricity failure proved to be my ally as dusk set in. When my ‘search’ came to a halt due to bad light and stumps were drawn, the scorecard of one letter and one book cleared was testimony to my progress.</p>.<p>Day two began on a flowery note – a huge envelope containing old photographs with erstwhile colleagues and friends abroad was my first ‘opponent’. This virtual throwback to the scents and sounds of the days of yore occupied my time till noon. Paying an ‘inspection visit’ to my dugout, the lady of the house was chafed at my progress thus far. Entreaties that I was stuck in musings and will make amends did not cut any ice with her. Sensing mendacity on my part, she prayed then for an extension of lockdown while I am prayed for just the opposite so that I may escape to work and let status quo reign once again. </p>
<p>The isolation and lockdown necessitated by the pandemic recently threw up several challenges – many overt but quite a few covert. Things at home that had remained in cold storage for decades on one or the other pretext resurfaced much like an old enemy. The lockdown left me with no escape route out of one such covert issue. Much to my chagrin, this was like ‘reopening an old case file’ namely cleaning up a room with tons of old books, reading material, old letters and the like. Smelling blood, my wife pounced on me insisting that all this be cleared before the lockdown ends and even prepared a duty roster detailing everyday cleanup hours.</p>.<p>Unwillingly, I set out on my mega assignment. No sooner had I dusted up the first carton of books, when I found a letter written by an old friend who now worked abroad. Reading through this, my mind rewound 28 years, reliving the good times we had as friends, hostel mates. This reverie caused my brain to jump from one nostalgic memory to another and a precious hour was lost on this letter alone. "How is it going?" my wife asked, nudging me out from my trance. Jolted by the warning, I decided perforced not to read any other letters henceforth but instead focus on the job on hand. That's when I chanced upon a first-year medical college book. Memories of the trials and tribulations as also the good times of the first year at medical college came flooding back and needless to say, I was drowning in a whirlpool of old thoughts yet again. The postprandial session of cleanup was admittedly tardy and I was left enjoying a siesta in the dark vault. Electricity failure proved to be my ally as dusk set in. When my ‘search’ came to a halt due to bad light and stumps were drawn, the scorecard of one letter and one book cleared was testimony to my progress.</p>.<p>Day two began on a flowery note – a huge envelope containing old photographs with erstwhile colleagues and friends abroad was my first ‘opponent’. This virtual throwback to the scents and sounds of the days of yore occupied my time till noon. Paying an ‘inspection visit’ to my dugout, the lady of the house was chafed at my progress thus far. Entreaties that I was stuck in musings and will make amends did not cut any ice with her. Sensing mendacity on my part, she prayed then for an extension of lockdown while I am prayed for just the opposite so that I may escape to work and let status quo reign once again. </p>