Amidst all this Covid 19 scare, I lived in Germany for a month and then travelled from Frankfurt, Germany to Mumbai a couple of days back. I had watched and read innumerable videos and messages about getting infected, protecting yourself and the effects of the virus on humans. So, I was kind of petrified and getting a little paranoid. Literally nani ( pati- grandma) yaad aa gayi!!!
I was mainly at home and hardly had any exposure to the outside world while in Germany. But when I had to step out of our apartment door to go to the laundry room two floors below, I was hit by paranoia. I would carry a wet tissue with me, which I would use press the elevator buttons, open door handles and switching on the lights. keep the tissue carefully face down, finish my loading or unloading of the laundry, gingerly pick up the wet tissue taking care i do not touch the exposed side and then go back up using the same routine, switch, door, elevator buttons and the apartment door. the tissue used to go straight into the dust bin and my hand under the wash basin for a good scrub with soap. This whole process reminded me of my grand mom and my mother in law, both of whom I considered painfully conventional. Both these ladies I speak about were classmates and belonged to the same time frame and I will call them “Pati” in my writing ahead. So… Pati will never ever touch any surface outside the house unless totally essential, so most of the times some one had to escort them on their forays outside the house. This trip to the laundry room had to be done alone so my escort was the wet tissue!
The trips to the supermarket ensued, coming back and wiping each packet with a sanitiser tissue, washing all the vegetables and fruits before putting them away. All this with pati screaming in my head, ” wash the milk packets before you put it into the fridge” better still use only fresh milk and boil it as soon as you get it.” ‘Wash all the things washable before keeping it away”
Another main rule I followed was, to remove my slippers as soon as i entered our apartment and wore another pair of house slippers in the house and headed to the wash basin to wash my hands. Pati always said, “remove your slippers outside, wash your hands and feet and then enter the house.” In our eagerness to defy the conventional rules laid by her we always allowed our friends to wear their shoes or sandals into the house. Though we had separate slippers for indoors. Now, under threat of the virus, I just went back to ‘Patiism’! I did cheat though by wearing another pair of house slippers instead of wearing bare feet.
When Pati had to travel by train the first thing she would do is carry her own water and food packed in a covered bag, which cannot be touched by anyone other than a family member. It used to be a difficult task holding pati’s ageing hands in one and in the other a water cooler( a 5 litre one, mind you!) and a huge unwieldy bag with her homemade food stocked for at least a couple of days. And ofcourse you also need to try and keep pace with the porter who carried the rest of the luggage. Now it feels funny imagining the scene but then it used to be very stressfull. And… during my travel back from Frankfurt to Mumbai, I painted an equally funny picture. I had a hand baggage which contained all my belongings needed for a couple of days in case I was quarantined in an unknown destination. I had a huge hand bag that contained my smaller handbag , all the necessary wires for charging my laptop, phone, watch, headphone and a reading lamp along with the aforementioned objects. It also had a bulging pouch that had essentials to be used for a visit to the washroom- few peebuddies, wet tissues, sanitisers, dry tissues etc etc. To add to all this the big hand bag also carried sanitiser wipes and wet wipes. I wasn’t taking any risks!!! In one more short sling bag I had some fruits ( oranges actually) some protein bars, some small eats and a plastic cover to throw the used tissues and waste I would create on my way back. Then I had a walking stick to stabilise my self. I was also swathed in a huge bulky winter coat which would add to the luggage to be carried.
I had to take the buggy to the boarding gate and imagine I would not allow the fellow to touch my bags or any of my belongings. I huffed and puffed got every thing on the buggy ( helped by my son ofcourse) and with great difficutly wore my seat belt and off we went. At the very first turn, my suitcase went wizzing out of the buggy and landed with a thud. I refused to allow the driver to touch it. kept all the floating luggage down, got off , picked up my suitcase, put it on the buggy, secured it with other bags and was off on my way. So Pati mantra ruled- “don’t allow any one to touch your luggage”.
Once I boarded the aircraft, I deftly pulled out the wipes and started the cleaning process, wipe the seat, the handles, the food tray, the remote console, and the window. The purser wanted to help me with the bag, ‘No sir,’ I said and struggled to put up the suitcase and my bulky big handbag into the overhead luggage bin. I was surrounded by quite a young crowd who looked on with a glint of amusement in their eyes but I stuck to my pati avatar and plonked into my seat with a prayer to not have anyone in my next seat. Pati had told me, if you want something badly and you let the universe know, it is usually granted. I trusted that dictum and prayed hard; not a soul stirred near my seat for the rest of the journey.
My food that I carried with me ( bearing the strange looks the security personal gave me as they could not figure out what the oranges were on the X-ray machines!:)) , was for the journey as well as for the time after I landed, in the eventuality of being quarantined in a weird place. So I had to opt for the dinner they served me on the flight. I still did not trust my surroundings much. All this mistrust resulted in me eating what ever was served in my plate with a knife, fork and spoon provided in a plastic pouch. The toughest part was eating the bun, cutting it into a bite size pieces, applying butter and then popping it into the mouth, it was a task indeed! Here I cannot draw a comparison to my Pati by a long shot, so I attribute it to my paranoia. But drinking the juice from a can was totally pati-rule. Never ever touch your lips to the container you are drinking from. Pati had a word for it ” etchai”. If you by mistake touched your lips to the glass then you could not drop it in the kitchen sink. You needed to take it out of the house or to the bathroom incase of an apartment and wash, rinse it throughly over there and then get it to the kitchen. Many a accidents can happen in the process of trying to drink without touching your lips to the container and well when you try it out on juice packed in a can… well, it was a near disaster. But, I braved it as I finally understood the wisdom behind the Pati- rule of etchai!
While getting off the aircraft, I kept my distance from all other passengers. When Pati did it, it used to infuriate me and I would land up debating about pati being racist and discriminating people. But the fear, that any one of those people travelling with me, could be carrying the Covid 19 virus forced me to remember my pati. Luckily I had asked for wheel chair service ( due to a surgery on my leg a month and a half ago), I did not look too obvious trying to avoid other people. I had a smooth temperature testing which was negative and then checking of papers and I was certified to go out of the airport into home quarantine. I was very happy.
When, women of the house had their periods, pati had strict protocols. The woman was actually, what you call in modern days isolated! They called it ‘Dooram’ , which translated literally means, distance! It was for a good reason they did that, to give the woman rest and recuperation time during the periods. Though I would consider it a sign of weakness if someone felt any less on those days. Nevertheless , I had experienced it under protest as a young girl and a women with my pati and knew the rules. So, once I got out of the airport and reached the car , the ‘Dooram’ protocol began. All my luggage was wiped clean with disinfectant wipes by my husband. I sat at the back seat, secluded with the things I was carrying in my hand. Once we reached home, we asked the lift man to get out of the lift and my husband loaded the luggage, I stood a little away from the action. We reached home and I went to the assigned room for me with an attached bathroom.
I stay here quarantined in self isolation, with my food, water and my requirements kept outside my door. I clean my space, the vessels I use and wash my clothes on my own. All this to keep my family and my community safe from the eventuality of me having caught the virus in Germany or during my journey. I will continue to abide by the rules of Patiism for 20 more days or till whenever needed. So, Pati, finally was always right!!!!
The other day I was cutting some Cantaloupes, the unique smell transported me to my childhood and the picture of my dad floated in. It felt so real and true, as if I was experiencing the moment again. It was Appa’s job to cut fruits after dinner for the family, something he loved to do. He knew that I hated the smell of musk melon, so he would sprinkle sugar and cardamom on it and serve it to me. He wanted me to acquire a taste for it. But the melons those days were quite bland. Appa had tasted juicy melons during his trips abroad and wanted to share that experience with us. Many years later I developed a taste for Cantaloupes when we were in Ghaziabad. He was the one who re-introduced me to musk melons all over when I became an adult and had a child of my own. Now it is my favourite fruit.
Poesy 