I Miss All The Last Times ...

March 12, 2020. It’s not a special occasion. But this day is etched in my memory; one that I often recall, during these past few months with nostalgia.

 

“What time and where?” he asks. I say, “Let’s not do a movie with the whole covid scare looming over us and wait a couple of weeks for things to settle.” “Coffee then?” she asks. And that’s how a bunch of friends decide to “catch up”. Did we know it would be the last time we would be stepping out properly for a social get together? Hell no! Had we known, the plan would have been more elaborate and we would have at least dressed up better. 

 

We headed out for a cuppa coffee. As things would turn out most unexpectedly (as often they do) we landed up in a hip South Bombay restaurant which was surprisingly packed to the brim for a Thursday night despite the pandemic fear haunting us in a somewhat abstract way. That night none of us could fathom the gravity of what lay ahead of us. Schools for the kids were declared indefinitely shut the same day. There was a subconscious nudge of sorts to make the most of what this night had to offer.

 

We sat at the already overcrowded bar watching over-zealous bartenders doling out exotic cocktails. We stayed till the place was shutting and then staggered down the narrow quaint Kala Ghoda street singing and laughing. We even bought a bunch of balloons from a roadside vendor on a whim. We weren’t familiar with terms like “social distancing “or “self-isolating.” 

 

We now know how the cookie crumbled and very soon before we knew it each one of us got shoved into our “new normal” and started making routines to cope with the times and what lay ahead of us. Today when I look back I don’t know when we all will be able to return to “normal” as we knew it to be then.

 

In the meanwhile, I’m clinging onto a mental list of last times.

 

The last time I went for coffee with a good friend or on my own. Sitting and gazing into nothing without worrying if the waiter serving me seems virus free or if anyone around me could maybe be asymptomatic and sitting too close (less than 6 feet apart.)

The last time I googled a place on the map to add to a trip. 

The last time I explored an art gallery. 

The last time I made small talk with the server in a restaurant abroad. 

 

It feels like all these memories are slowly fading away like the intricacies of a dream that vanish, even though I try holding on to them once awake. I’ll remember something and then wonder how many other following pieces I’ve forgotten. Details start seeming so precious now as they flicker in and out of my memory.

 

I’m nostalgic for the million small things I’ve done but never stopped to cherish.

 

Those moments just before boarding the flight at the airport. The whiff of the familiar scent typical of the interiors of flights upon entering. That excitement yet a hint of nervousness once we take off. The sheer jubilation of landing onto international shores.

 

Sometimes I feel like I’m living out of some child’s history textbook in the future where they are learning about the covid pandemic.

 

When I get too nostalgic about the last times I remind myself that I am creating new memories right now. I have learnt the hard way to cherish them as they happen. It helps to slow down and focus on the small moments. Those cycling sessions and walks every evening spent discussing some trivial building gossip or the latest covid statistics will be reminisced upon too.

 

 I don’t know what the future holds for us though I have faith that we will be alright because we have each other. This pandemic has taught me the importance of community because for once the calamity is far bigger than us and has managed to engulf us all together because we are all equally affected.

 

The Government announces that things are allowed to start opening up. I look all around me at how people are using this information to propel their life back to what it used to be. Restaurants, hotels, airlines and shopping malls are resuming with their services. Vendors are trying their best to stay relevant and keep up with the new, challenging and changed times.

 

I hope that one day March 12 will lose its association and importance for me and I will be splitting a pitcher of sangria somewhere in Spain with my bunch of friends.