Dear Anandini

You will turn five next month. Last year, we hosted a zoom party on your birthday. You didn't like it much. Obviously! This year we had planned to invite all your favourite people for the celebration. But the second wave of pandemic swept all of us by our feet. Apparently, we have learnt to use a lot of new terms in the past one year - corona, crisis, pandemic, virus, lockdown, quarantine and so on. But perhaps the only term that you are familiar with is the 'corona virus'. I asked you yesterday, "Beta, how do you feel about corona?" You responded with little puppy eyes, "I love it. I do not have to go to school and mom and dad are with me all the time." It's lovely to be a part of your world at times; it makes us forget about our world.

I am writing this letter to you for two reasons. One, I feel like venting out. The anger, anxiety and helplessness in the current times are immense. Two, the future these days seems uncertain. There are few things that I wish to tell you for you are our baby.

My grandparents migrated from Pakistan at the time of India's partition in 1947. My grandfather, whom we fondly called Pitaji, was a very simple man. In today's world, he would be called too naïve. My grandmother on the other hand, who everyone in the family lovingly calls Biji, is a very strong lady. In 1947, she must have been very young; I think more like a teenager. There is something very attractive about her personality. She looks beautiful with her natural glow and sharp features, that's one part. But it is also about the kindness and acceptance one can see in her eyes. As far as I remember, she has always worn unmatched clothes - a khaki kurti and a violet salwar or a printed green kurti and a mauve salwar. She has never owned more than two or three suits at a time. Whatever we give her; she further gifts to others and doesn't feel embarrassed about it. Even during weddings, we have seen her wearing very plain clothes. Your grand mom, my chachi, with whom she lives, has always been quite annoyed with this trait. When I was young, Biji used to narrate to me the story of her journey to India during partition. Unfortunately, I don't remember all of it, only bits and parts. I was not very keen back then, and today when I want to know, she is too old to narrate the entire story on a phone call. I will visit her once the pandemic is over; it’s long due.

The story is about how she, along with her mother and sisters, crossed the border to reach India from Pakistan when the country was partitioned overnight without due notice amid horrendous communal violence. They had a wonderful house in Pakistan. It all ended in a jiffy. When the partition announcement was made, they were first in complete denial. Eventually, they realized that there is no option but to leave. So, they hid all the ornaments and valuable belongings in a well near their house with a belief that they will come back soon when circumstances become normal. She said, "When things like this happen, you do not want to believe. Such incidents do not happen everyday. So you feel that this is temporary, and then you think that how can the government uproot you or throw you out of your own house. But I learnt that day that unfortunately, nothing really belongs to you." Her mother was a very smart lady, she mentioned. I think that is partly from where we get our wit and intelligence, including you! She made her daughters wear as many clothes as possible- one over the other, wore four kurtis herself and asked all of them to start walking. Over the next few days they were on foot, without anything valuable, except the clothes they were wearing. It was scary for the mother because she was worried about her daughters; there were communal riots and women were obviously the softer targets. But she didn't mention this to her daughters. They kept walking; stopping at refugee camps and at the houses of strangers who opened their doors to unknown people offering them food and water.

Sona, we have been living amid Covid-19 pandemic for the last two years. There have been lockdowns. Luckily, your father and I have jobs and the savings to survive but there are so many who don't have that support. It is a very difficult time for all of them. When I saw pictures of migrant labourers hanging from overcrowded buses and standing in lines outside the railway station for if they do not reach their villages before the lockdown, they might be stranded in the cities with children and families without basic necessities for months, it took me back to the story of Biji. Whenever anything goes wrong for any of us, she always has either of these two things to say - "ki karna pher puttar" (translated as "What can you do? Accept it my child") and "koi darr nahi" (translated as "there is nothing to be scared"). We always joke about her favourite dialogues in the family but we also realize where these come from. When everything that you own with a lot of pride is suddenly snatched away from you, you don't have any other option but to accept it.

This pandemic is lethal; it is killing people. The infrastructure has collapsed and the system has failed. The government doesn't know how to respond. Doctors and health workers are exhausted. Many of our friends and family members have been affected. People are begging for help; asking for medicines, oxygen cylinders, ICU beds, plasma donations, ventilators etc. Our country is facing perhaps the worst crisis after partition and once again, few strangers are opening their doors for help. There still seems some hope. When we look at you, we see that hope. We see a future where you will grow up and are happy. In all the disasters that might follow, we wish to see you as the stranger who opens doors for others like those unknown faces did for your great grandmother.

Beta, you have been born almost in the lap of luxury, with access to unlimited variety of food, latest toys and gadgets and almost every comfort of the modern world. But I want you to always remember where you come from. We are not an extra-ordinary family. We are very ordinary and in the time of crisis, the ordinary ones are the most affected. Parts of your roots are still in a small village near Lahore, now in Pakistan. You partly come from a family which was uprooted; which lost everything overnight. My grandparents worked hard to raise your grandparents and some of that contributes to the life you live today. This is their spirit. They neither desired nor owned much because they believed that ultimately nothing belongs to them. Whenever you fail in life, which you will and you must, remember that neither success nor failure, neither pain nor happiness belongs to you. The only thing that belongs to you is you- yourself; others can only borrow you sometimes. If they could survive partition and your grandparents and all of us can survive the pandemic, you, our baby, you don't even know what you are capable of surviving! Trust me on that!

Yours Lovingly

Mammu

Published at: https://www.momspresso.com/parenting/None/article/in-the-time-of-pandemic-a-letter-to-my-daughter-a5xd9bg1lrr0