hi.

i hope you’re doing okay. it's been what feels like ages since the last time we spoke.

a lot of the year from today has been a visage of mornings after evenings slipping away like sand from the grasp of my fingers, straining and tugging to preserve our bodies and sanity. watching the world toss and turn from the prosaic safety of the four walls. i remember, after my internship was over, the idea of leaving my one room flat to go back to the college, to spend evening's away at omi's or walking around the green of pusa campus in about 2 weeks was the ultimate epilogue of my plotline. it's been over an year since.

these days' with my already muslin emotional threshold being stretched out thinner and thinner with every headline, instagram story, phone call and text. it's a tale of my childish naivete that i presumed that the worst is already here, and not refreshing a season every day. the act of letting go has become a daily routine.

my nostalgia has become a masochistic tool i carry around for days on end, the image of my friends sitting in the balcony of my flat, singing along to tu kisi rail si guzarti hai . how much of it will i ever get back? how much of it is left to be had?

the way ebbs and flows of friendship, romance, bodies, and intimacy have been held on by the pandemic resembles nothing short of an heartbreak- a collective, relentless, never ending heartbreak.

sometimes i get a little stressed sequestered in this tiny little room, pinned to these realities, i'm living in a part of history that will one day be talked about and discussed and what am i even doing? what have i done? laundry? barely.

and then, there are parts of this pandemic that have etched themselves into every inch of my being. rithick cooks and delivers lunch boxes for people who cannot put together a meal in the sickness. ansab runs around aligarh pulling together resources from shop to shop for those holding their hands together in the hospital corridors for vials and cylinders, at the price of his own sanity. prisha is the one who's actually helped me get the oxygen cylinders when i am walking hopeless myself. somansh down with covid himself, holding together an entire family of covid positive individuals, looks out for icu beds for mere acquaintances at 2am. all this, in spite of the fact that we do not suffer equally - that infrastructural help and access to necessities still remain a distant reality for most in my country- obliviating the question of whether this pandemic's experience is collective or wildly singular. chehal, riddhi, gautam, aishwarya, jeetender, mukul and his best friend, shireen, harshit, surya bearing the burdens of many, putting up solitary efforts to quell an impossible storm, are anything but extraordinary.

treading storms, no matter how resilient you are, gets draining. have a couple long sighs, a piece of the way things wave and you’re off. sit down in the lawn, look at your fingers. drink water. speak to someone who's around you for a while. take a break. rest. eat well. be soft. be tender - towards yourself, towards people around you. that's the kindest thing you can do right now.

here lies a few songs and a couple more things you should take a look at in your break.

1. all I've ever known by bahamas YT:

Spotify :

2. this rendition by shlipa rao of kaise ho tum by agnee

3. a cute little quiz that anoushka sent. this tells you what kind of plant you are. i am a lemon apparently.

4. this guide on how to make small talk after the pandemic by vice

love,

soumya xx