I tried. I tried to stay on my office chair from 10 to 10. My eyes strained, watered and I stood up. The introvert within wept, but my Covid-19 brain was gasping for some fresh air, drowned by the second wave. I caught up with old friends. Fortunately they were staying nearby and were playing football regularly. I hauled my heavy eight-year-old Hercules Blazer IC out of my home and my heavier nervous self on it – making my way to the field nearby.

I spent the next half hour masking my nervousness behind warm up drills and handshakes with old pals. Returning to my left wing back position after so long felt burdensome on my rusty post-Covid lungs but the mid-June drizzle helped cool things down. With a pinch of beginner’s luck I managed to score a goal from a corner kick (What!?) Honestly, I had surprised myself on that one. The match however, ended in a stalemate, serving justice to the casual friendly format.

I rode this confidence to the ground for the rest of the stay-at-home season. Shortly after, hauling the old Blazer IC started feeling like more-than-warmup itself and I would tag along on Kaushik’s Honda at a mandatory excessive 90 odd kilometers per hour serving validation to the 220 cc engine. Stamina ++

The running and joy always mattered more than the goals or wins.

North East Hill University (NEHU) in Shillong was a delightful visit last year. I spent the little of the amount I got off during the day by sitting near the lake, listening to the orchestra of the geese.

One evening, I tried the tea from an on campus tea shop. The tea was sweet, and I was low on blood sugar. It was sunset, and I could see mist slowly settle on the hills in front of me. I didn’t get much cellular reception there, thankfully.

Rather, they’ve been breezing past me like I’ve been stuck in warp mode. Moments have been fleeting, and I can barely remember what I did yesterday. I draw significantly less now, my sketchbook that I proudly acquired in a local flea market lies in my bag most of the time waiting to be grasped and flicked open and marked upon. I’ve come upon the stuff of Eden without a dongle though; Wacoms are beyond reach. Consuming more bits than words. Running less and lifting more. Sleeping a good eight hours every day.

Work is fun. Can’t say I struggle to stay in touch with friends and family, but the pack has grown tighter and more real. Simultaneously, have become numb to the coarse sand and cement texture of the capital’s suburbs; I’m more used to clay and leaves. The air is spicier, the noise follows suit. Suits are aplenty under beacons, but each day I dread more, paying for them.

Hope. That’s all.