The demonic prowess of catastrophe is piercing and unbending. But there are a few who employ the courage of their conviction and free-flowing confidence to stand up to its unrelenting ferocity. They get it by its neck and make it bow. I have been a witness to a couple of such exercises during the horrible pandemic months.

The pandemic — which has created tens of thousands of orphans, of widows, of jobless people, of hard up businessmen — has left millions locked up at home.

Under the circumstances most crumbled, but some converted the crisis into an advantage. Armed with the belief that no matter how high a mountain is someone conquers it one day, they have been battling the coronavirus ceaselessly.

A friend of mine is one of them. He initially used up his forced stay at home cooking and eating different dishes, listening to music and reading. Hours led to days, days led to weeks and weeks led to months.

---

Hours led to days, days led to weeks and weeks led to months

---

The routine was getting on his nerves. He then decided to scribble his thoughts that focused on his childhood, high school, college and university. He also recalled his days with his dad and mum. And, of course, his relationships. The scribbling has paid off and should come as a lesson to those affected by the killer pandemic.  

Do permit me to quote his email.


Image used for illustrative purpose only.

“It is 1 in the morning and I am still at it. I am now determined to sculpt my tale in a way it has not been done before. What started as an exercise to kill excruciatingly painful and boring lockdown hours is turning into a work of fiction that could change my life. Or leave me in a state of perennial despair.

The story is based in a small town in a European country where I lived the first 15 years of my life. My father was posted there as a diplomat.

There was a time when residents of the town stood at open windows, unmindful of insects, their eyes searching for a way out of the block as rain used to lash their only possession, their dwellings. But things have changed dramatically. It doesn’t rain the way it used to, thanks to climate change.

When the coronavirus peaked last year I decided to stay at home and remain connected with the outside world through the phone and the Internet. I devoted a lot of time to music and reading, but they began to bore me.



Image used for illustrative purpose only.

Then I turned to jotting my thoughts. One morning (I still don’t know what prompted me) I got in touch with a publisher. I emailed him my notes. He responded nearly after four months. It was positive. If I succeed in my endeavour, the way I understand it, then I shall turn to full time writing. Believe me, I didn’t know I had a writer in me. ”

He indeed got the murderous catastrophe by its neck and found abundant life in a truncated sojourn.