6.00 am

I'm brewing my morning cup of coffee. Just one. It will be a while before Rohit gets up. That is if his phone doesn't interrupt him.

It was 5 in the morning by the time Rohit and I made our way back home. He promptly changed and went off to sleep. Try as I might, I couldn't. I tossed and turned for forty-five minutes and then got up to get on with my day. I have a lot to get through today. And I'm not sure why. People are getting bored during the quarantine and here, all of a sudden, I don't have enough time in my day. How did that happen?

I stop to process all that. I just called this house home. It's finally beginning to feel like one. In our two and a half years of knowing each other, this is the most amount of time Rohit and I have spent together.

I pick up my cup and make my way to the living room. I have a funny feeling I'll need a lot more of it than my regular dose to get me through today.

I look outside the giant windows, gazing at the tall concrete structure that's blocking the view of the sunrise. The bright light shines around it, giving it a sort of glow. It's beautiful. I've always been a morning person. The orange hues emanating from the first rays of the sun have always had a calming effect on me. But today I'm unable to focus on them. My mind is a jumble of thoughts. I'm thinking about all that has transpired in the world in the last three weeks. I'm thinking about all that has transpired between Rohit and me within that same time. Have things changed? Is there hope?

"Sona, there's always hope." Another faint memory. For some reason completely unknown to me, I'm thinking about my father today. The man who abandoned us to fate and fled the ship. Did he really? That's one question we never got an answer to. Just one fine day, he never came back home. 

I remember my Mom that evening. She slept on the chair in our living room, waiting for him to walk through the door any minute. The next day, she walked 10 kilometers, from our house to his office in the hopes that she would spot something on the roads, an indication as to what had happened. She'd taken his picture along asking people on the way if they saw this man in the area's vicinity. She had climbed six flights of stairs to reach his office only to be told that he'd not been showing up at work for over a week. She'd visited the police station to seek help and continued visiting, covering her shoulders with her sari, and tugging it closer, as the lecherous eyes of the others roamed freely towards her. She'd been told her husband wasn't important, that he must have abandoned her and run away with his mistress, that she should stop bothering with her visits because they had more pressing matters to deal with. She'd been ignored and belittled. As hope waned, and reality sunk in, I assumed she forgot she ever had a husband. I was wrong. On my wedding day, I saw her fondly gazing at her wedding picture.

"Mom." I hugged her. I knew she was getting emotional but I was also upset that she was remembering the one person who was responsible for everything that we'd been through. She hugged me as she wiped her tears. "Sona, never judge someone else based on your circumstances. I don't know why your father did what he did. And I'm not saying life wasn't difficult. But I also don't know what happened to him. I don't know if he's dead or alive." She paused. And I waited. Waited to hear from her how broken she was because of that man. But what she said next surprised me. "Sona, I still have hope that someday I'll get answers to all my questions."

I knew how difficult it was for her to admit all this to me. Despite the abandonment, she'd never spoken ill of my father. She'd wanted me to respect him and if possible, love him. Sadly she didn't realize that both love and respect needed to be earned. 

*****

11.10 am

Rohit's just woken up. After six hours of uninterrupted sleep. This is the longest he's slept since the lockdown began. I'm in the kitchen making Rajma Chawal for lunch. It's my go-to comfort food. Mom made amazing Rajma Chawal. I'm missing her today.

I sense Rohit behind me. I don't need to look his way. I have goosebumps every time he looks at me a certain way. It's my body's way of responding to his presence.

"You're awake," I speak without turning around. He knows I know. I don't hear a response. When I turn, he's casually draped his lithe body against the door frame staring at me, in that uncanny way that affects me. He's just woken up. His hair is ruffled, his T-shirt is crumpled. But to me, he still looks like a Greek God.

I divert my eyes away from him and try and focus on something else, anything else in the kitchen. The potatoes are spilling out of their box and I get busy piling them one on top of the other. "You want something?" I'm not looking his way, and he chooses to keep silent.

I'm done with the potatoes and am repeating the same exercise with the onions. I'm trying hard to avoid him, but patience has never been one of my virtues.

After unsuccessfully ignoring him for what I believe to be 30 seconds, I look up.

"What is it?" I'm flustered. It's evident in my tone.

He still doesn't say something and slowly walks towards me. He takes a step forward, and I take a step back. One step forward, one step back, all the way till my back hits the kitchen sink. He comes one step closer and bends down. I can feel his breath near my neck. I close my eyes in anticipation. He bends even closer, I can feel my breath hitch. He stretches his hand. I'm expecting an embrace. He picks up a glass from near the sink and distances himself. I open my eyes in confusion to see him pour himself some water. I feel foolish and I smile. He finishes drinking his water, moves back closer. I anticipate he's merely going to put the glass back. I try to move away to continue with my routine but his hand holds me back.

"Thank you."

I look at him, confused.

"For making an effort."

I'm still confused. But he doesn't clarify. He instead lovingly ruffles my hair.

"What's for lunch?"

"Rajma Chawal"

He looks at me and suddenly envelops me in a hug. I don't resist. "Remember, whether we're together or not, I'll always be there for you."

*****

4.20 pm

I didn't go to the hospital today. I'm miffed with Rohit and I don't trust myself to not react in an irrational manner. Lunch was a silent affair. If Rohit realized I was upset with him, he didn't let it on. When I told him I was not going to come to the hospital to volunteer, he didn't ask why.

Rohit left two hours ago. I can safely assume it will be the day after tomorrow by the time I see him next. I can live with that. It will take me that long to calm down.

Why am I angry with him? Because of what he said. I still don't understand what he means by whether we're together or not. Where does he expect me to go? Where does he want to go? Is there someone else in his life? I rubbish that thought as soon as it enters my head. There isn't much in his life that isn't work. Who would know that better than I? After all, I was the one who chased him around the block, until he confessed his love for me. Yes, our love story had a twist. I proposed to Rohit.

"Dr. Sippy?" 

As usual, he was peering into one of the thick books that lined the shelves in his cabin, trying to find answers to some unpronounceable problems.

"Huh?" He responded absent-mindedly.

"Would you know if a girl was trying to catch your attention?" He momentarily looked up, his glasses perched near the tip of his nose.

"Huh?"

I rolled my eyes. My mother had been discharged a little over three months ago. And I had found every excuse to visit this man at his workplace. I always made an extra effort to dress up to impress him. And I overstayed the welcome, in the hopes that he will realize I wanted to spend more time with him. The entire hospital had figured out that I liked this man. But Dr. Sippy? Well, he was one of a kind.

I cleared my throat and asked again. "Why are you still single, Rohit... I mean Dr. Sippy?" The slip of the tongue was deliberate. He didn't catch it.

"I don't think so," he stated, putting his book down and giving me his undivided attention. My heart plummetted. Was I missing something? Did he already have someone in his life? I decided to be brave and find out.

"So who's the special one?" He looked at me quizzically. There have been a few moments when I've wanted to knock someone on their head. This was one of them.

"The special woman in your life?"

"What woman?"

"You just told me you weren't single."

Clearly, this conversation was extremely challenging for Dr. Sippy so I tried to simplify it for him.

"Rohit...Dr. Sippy, are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No."

"Do you like another girl, someone you think about getting married to?"

"No."

"Are you gay?"

"No."

"Well, in that case, I want to you know that I really like you. And I want to see if we can spend the rest of our lives together. So Rohit, will you go out with me on a date?"

The moment I said it I clamped my mouth shut with my hands. I didn't intend to say it that way. Hell, I was expecting a fairy-tale proposal, where the boy went down on one knee, with a ring in his hand, and made me feel like the Queen of England.

"Yes."

I momentarily looked up. My wide eyes indicating the level of embarrassment I felt at that outburst.

Rohit raised his eyebrow. I didn't know what that meant then. "I said yes."

"What?" It was my turn to act dumb.

He cleared his throat. "I said yes, I will go out with you on a date."

I was red with embarrassment.

"Okay, thank you." And I picked up my purse and walked out. His cabin door was wide open. I guess a lot of people heard the conversation because I was greeted with sly smiles which only embarrassed me further. I began to sprint to get out of the hospital as fast as I could.

*****

8.10 pm

I've just finished dinner. I don't think I am capable of dieting anymore. The lockdown has unleashed the foodie in me. And I'm loving this new and improved version of Sonakshi Sippy. I like the sound of my married name better than my maiden one and have decided to continue calling myself that, whether Rohit likes it or not. 

I'm still miffed with Rohit. But I've come to accept that he usually has a valid viewpoint. No, I'm not referring to his comment from this morning. That was totally unnecessary. I'm thinking about his question from a while back about why I wanted to be an actress. I didn't answer it then, because I didn't have one. Today, after six months without work, I think I have an answer.

Unlike other kids who went for career counseling sessions offered as part of their school services,  and had the time and opportunity to think about what they wanted to be when they grew up, I didn't have a choice. I had to find something that would keep the roof over our heads and food on the table. And I had to find that quickly. I became an actress because it was a means to an end. And I kept on acting because, well, that's all I knew. 

The lockdown has made me realize that my situation is no longer what it was 20 years ago. Circumstances have changed, life has changed, I have changed. For the first time, I've discovered a purpose in my life. When I feed the poor outside the hospital, when I work on sorting the masks, when I sit down and teach those little kids outside the hospital nursery rhymes, I feel vibrant. I feel buoyant. I feel vivacious. The laughter, the smiles, the gratitude, all make me come alive. For the first time, I truly feel my life's purpose.

I've realized true happiness lies in helping a fellow human, in whatever capacity you can. Spread a smile. Lend a helping hand. Dance in the rain. Life is more than just a bank statement.

These thoughts make me feel guilty. I've been selfish today, my anger at Rohit taking over my priority for sorting the masks. I glance at the clock and decide to go over to the hospital now to finish whatever little work is remaining. I clear the table, soak all the dirty plates in the sink, promising myself to do them as soon as I get back. As I change out of my pajamas, my phone beeps. It's a text message from Rohit. "Come, if you can. I'm missing you." I smile. I'm not angry at him anymore. There's still hope indeed.