My Symphony: Home, Heart, Time
It was mid-February when I had realized that my vision had weakened and my lenses needed to be replaced. I needed to get my eyes tested as well. However, we simply put it off and eventually became more averse to going to a hospital, regardless of whether they housed Covid-19 patients. In fact, I had not expected to go anytime soon. Yesterday, however, as I was watching a documentary on Netflix, my dad asked me to grab my mask and wear my shoes. Confused, I obeyed his instructions. He sounded unusually authoritative and spoke with urgency.
Where are we going? Why aren’t we taking the car? After about 500 metres of walking my dad informed me that we were going to the eye hospital. Frustrated and annoyed, I traipsed down the road. I had expected it to be a more exigent matter! After nearly 1.5 km, the chalky white colossal was in sight. Before we were allowed to enter, our temperatures were checked and our hands were sanitized. Every doctor was wearing a medical hood cover.
After filling a few forms and completing all the formalities, my eyes were tested using some funny little machine (autorefractor).
I noticed that a nurse put drops in my dad’s eye to dilate them. I was fascinated by how placid my dad remained after the drops had been instilled. After that, the nurse approached me. Trepidation filled me as I figured the nurse was going to put drops in my eyes too. No! How would I manage to keep my eyes open?! I felt as though I was in school and a teacher was planning to put eye-liner for some school event.
The nurse got agitated when I closed my eyes even before the eye drop entered it. It would just roll down my cheek. Finally, the drop went inside my eye. What a proud moment! But ouch — they started burning, the feeling that you get when you bring your eyes in contact with chilli flakes! Instinctively I squeezed my eyes shut and felt much better.
For the next twenty minutes, I kept them closed and listened to music. Music is so powerful, so magical. I forgot that I was in a hospital. I imagined myself first in Matterhorn, then in icy valleys, and then in verdant pastures with luxuriant grass.
Had the nurse not nudged me I would have been in those idyllic settings for hours. As I opened my eyes and came back to reality, I was horrified to see that she was holding another eye-drop bottle. Not a second time, surely not! But unfortunately, I had to go through the process one more time, only I didn’t whine and complain as much. Relief flooded me as I learnt that this was the last round. Once again I listened to music but was interrupted by my dad. He claimed that he needed the phone to call his colleague. Reluctantly, I handed it over to him. I was told that I was supposed to sit for another 25 minutes. (My eyes were still closed, by the way). 25 minutes without music, doing nothing! That’s crazy!
I opened my eyes. Blur. Blur. Blur. Everything was unclear, as though hazed in cloud and mist. I couldn’t even identify huge alphabets one foot away from me. Exasperated, I waited and waited. My tiny brain had even finished thinking about all the things that there were to think about — tests, teachers, notes, friends, homework, languages, music, ice cream, chocolate. Finally, the ophthalmologist declared that we could leave. Although my vision was much better now, I still couldn’t see very clearly. My dad and I walked back the same 1.5km stretch. Then it hit me — My dad hadn’t taken the car because he wouldn’t have been able to drive on the way back! His vision, too, was blurry.
Finally, I entered my house and thoroughly washed and sanitized my hands. I started deciding what to do. I realized there was nothing I could do! I couldn’t read a novel or study because the letters appeared as though a toddler had scribbled black paint all over. I was not allowed to use a gadget either, because apparently it would damage my retina. (I must admit, I did use it for some time though). I could not play the keyboard, either. The only thing I could do was listen to music or a podcast — nothing else. It was concerning how everything I wanted to do involved the use of a gadget — watching a movie, reading an article on Harvard Business Review or Scientific American, school homework, and even listening to music. My mom suggested that I sleep, but I am not a siesta person.
That was the moment when I realized that I always try to keep myself busy. I can’t just sit musing for hours together. Yes, there are times when I start pondering existentialism and the purpose of life. But that’s only for a short period of time. As I had my moment of realization, my brother walked in and we started discussing school. Then, I realized something else- I hadn’t even known who his favourite teacher is and what subjects he enjoys. I had never actually bothered to talk to my dear little brother during the lockdown, save for the times I had asked him to give me the stapler or highlighters.
Gadgets give people something to do all the time. If we’re bored we check our inbox, or watch videos on Youtube, or use Reddit, or call a friend, or surf randomly, or find memes to send to our friends. But why? Why can’t we use that time to talk to our own very sibling or mother or father or daughter or son, whoever! Sure, sometimes we must be genuinely busy, but certainly not all the time. We could even take out some time to do some self-reflection or to express gratitude. Do we really need to always do something ‘productive’ or ‘constructive’? Why can’t we just meditate for a little while? Why can’t we simply write down our musings on a notepad for 5 minutes? Isn’t it true that at the end of the day you still feel that you have not accomplished everything you had hoped to? But I wonder why that is, especially in these times. Now that most of us are not going to school or office and we do not spend a lot of time outside of the house, why is this still happening?
People may reason, ‘Oh! I am busy and I have more workload now. I don’t have 30 minutes to spare every single day’. But seriously? Think about all the times you text your friends or watch videos unnecessarily. Without question, it is essential to be updated and keep in touch with people, but why all the time?
This was something that I learnt yesterday. Now, I have made it a point to talk to my family for at least 20 minutes a day. In fact, let us all. Instead of waiting for lunch or dinner, why not some other time in between?
To end on a positive note and a beautiful message for all of us to remember:
