This was another lost day. Finding at least an hour everyday to write has become difficult. The volume of things to do around the house and on the farm consumes the days. Tried making up, but ended up spending a lot of time reading.
The world is making a shift towards living with the virus in ways that were unimaginable a few months back. There is an officer in-charge of ‘inter-state travel’ in Karnataka now. Schedules and behaviours are undergoing changes at a faster rate than any that we have seen in the recent memory. Empty bus stations, ghostly airports, scarce trains… these are striking changes in the sense of India that we have all known to be. Quieter, slower, tired, slow, anxious and definitely very affected by the long disruption. There are numerous unseen impacts that will unravel in the years ahead. In the town here, the number of vegetable vendors have increased. There is nothing else (besides medicine and food supplies) that people seem to be buying. For the informal workers and those who have been rendered jobless in their earlier work, it is vegetables and fruits hawking that remains. Even in a completely saturated neighbourhood, there is always a chance to time oneself and earn some. The desperation is evident.
It is the last day of June. It has been a pattern that the Prime Minister addresses the nation after every spell of lockdown. This evening the PM gave a brief fifteen minute speech with one major announcement and plenty of comparative figures which recapped the country’s journey through the past months of the pandemic. Distribution of foodgrains free of cost via the Public Distribution System in the country has been extended until November. Through this period food support will cover major Indian festivals. It is reasonable to think that this is one of the key pandemic relief measures that will help people cope with the situation.
Meanwhile, with a friend, mornings are busy exploring new trails. Went off road to check out a rocky road going up to the ridge that runs around the farm area. It needs a trail bike. This Specialized roadie is as mismatched as it can get. A rocky trail just off the usual tarmac leads up to a tiny village called Bhadod. I have heard this name from Grandma. She owned farms there nearly fifty years back. No connections since then. Perhaps, this rocky road leads up to a re-connection. Every morning is deeply satisfying on these roads around the farm and villages in the area.
With this June ends.