Chapter 11: chapter 11

He smiled at me and answered pointing his finger to the sky, "God is my mask. If he is willing I will live as long as he wishes." My heart melted at his rejoinder. He had been guarding our college for the past thirty years. I have never found him on leave, he had been active and energetic all the time, keeping a vigilant eye on the girls walking in and out of the college. He had watched me graduate as a student and now it gave him a pleasure to see me walking as a Professor inside the premises. He always claims to have a special fondness for alumni teachers. The Principal, an experienced woman on the verge of her retirement expressed her concern about the pandemic when I stepped inside her office to enquire about her well-being. She said, "When a pandemic strikes a country, it lasts generally for three years to the minimum." I gawked at her face with utter astonishment. Some other experienced teachers seconded her opinion. When I look back and see, I realise how true she was. My friend in Delhi forgot to cover her mouth with a mask while going to a supermarket. She was accompanied by her son, who was also without a mask. Wearing a mask and washing hands frequently had become the order of the day to keep the infection at bay. Television and social media were full of news regarding this. Some social workers distributed free masks to the not well-to-do class and carried out awareness campaigns to educate the citizens. The policeman immediately charged a penalty of two thousand rupees from her. He tore a slip from his documentary receipt, noted down the amount and handed it over with a warning, "Madam, never violate the rules as the safety of you and your family is in your hands. You are well educated to follow the instructions from time to time provided by the government." She caught her ears and learnt an important life lesson, even if the policeman had not intruded on that common sense for her. To part with such a huge sum was a valuable lesson for her to heed.People welcomed the New Year with great pomp and show, hoping for the good. They inferred that the New Year will be a new beginning and the end of the pandemic. On the joyous evening of 31st December, high-pitched crackers were burnt to welcome the new year. There was noise, celebration, jubilation, pollution and happiness all around despite assorted state-wise covid restrictions. There was a ban on selling crackers but I don't know where did it all come from. Sitting at my home, I was also anticipating a new beginning and a corona-free world. The travel regulations didn't allow movement within the country but people celebrated inside their houses. The pandemic had entered with an important life lesson. It is to spend quality time with all the family members, keeping aside the gadgets. Although the whole world business was running around advanced communication technology. I prepared a New Year cake for my kids to be cut at midnight. Unfortunately, I dosed off early and was not able to participate in the celebration. The sound of the crackers denoting the rolling of a new calendar broke my slumber but I was not ready to come out of my cosy bed on that cold wintry night. We had a nice cake cutting the other day.Usually, every year on the first of January, there is a community picnic in our local Gurudwara. The women do all the shopping and cooking. The men also assist them in serving and washing. A pious atmosphere is created to welcome the New Year. Prayers and hymns are recited for a preposterous New Year beginning but this was not possible that year due to covid restrictions on community gatherings.