I don’t know what I am doing, but I am very busy these days. I hope that at the end of 3 weeks I have something to show for all this busyness!
I am very relieved that grocery stores are going to open in Goa. While in other states and cities, they were open right through, ours were closed from 22nd to 26th March - 5 days - with no warning. Things were getting a bit desperate.
I went to check on my cleaning lady, T. She had rice, onions and potatoes but no dhal or salt and importantly no money to buy anything even if the shops opened! They had had no warning about this 3-week shut down and so she had not stocked up. Both she and her husband get paid on a monthly basis. With the curfew being imposed on 22nd, they hadn’t been paid yet and had run out of cash.
Probably like in some other places, if you are a poor migrant family in Goa, you are at the receiving end of everyone’s anger. It doesn’t matter that these families are actually holding up the economy. It doesn’t matter that there are many rich migrants. It doesn’t matter that Goans are migrants elsewhere. It doesn’t matter that the person who curses the loudest probably has a family member staying somewhere abroad and sending back money.
T lives in cramped quarters with 8 other migrant families. She told me that they are terrified of stepping out since the cops have been using their lathis liberally on them, the outsiders. While food is not available, alcohol is being surreptitiously supplied. She laughed as she said this and her four-year old daughter piped in saying she wouldn’t allow her father to drink. I wish her luck!
I know there are many other such migrant families in the villages around - I wish I could find a way to help them through this. When I drove out to T, 3 km away, I could see some of them walking along the edge of the road, probably looking for provisions. A neighbour, who runs a grocery store, told me that many of them are coming to ask her if she has anything. Her stocks have run out. In her wisdom, she sold limited quantities to everyone, not allowing them to hoard.
As I heard the PM’s speech, I called another neighbour who runs a shop if he had tetrapaks of milks. He did. I put the PM’s speech on pause and went out to pick up what I could. He had 7 half litre packs. It suddenly struck me that I was hoarding them! So I took 4 and told him to keep 3 for anyone with children. (No, I am not a saint.) He assured me that he had a whole case left with 12 packs, only for families with children. Lovely, no?
Yesterday evening I went for a walk on the inside roads. I know I am not supposed to go out - but I really need some exercise. I saw some families who were also sitting out, kids playing badminton on the empty road. It has become hot and humid - so not at all pleasant to go for a walk even at 7 pm. However, I need to keep it up if I am not to grow stiff and old in the remaining 18 days.
On Wednesday I finally found the frog that lives in my bedroom. It was asleep and so easy to nudge into a bucket. I took it to the end of the street and left it out. Usually I just throw it out in the garden. Then it comes back in a couple of days. Apparently tree frogs are territorial. Somehow it hides the whole day and jumps about the whole night when I am too tired to chase it. We have been playing this game since the monsoons ended last October. Now I am tired. I need to sleep well at night.
I thought briefly about kissing him and letting the prince inside emerge. But no. I don’t think I can be cooped up with someone for so many days - whether handsome or not, whether prince or not.
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