As the name suggests, these are no ordinary tales: ten stories, ten voices, ten lockdown longings:  the reading of these fascinating journeys has been quite an experience.

Each account chronicles a diverse and unique journey; each narrative draws on a unique feature of the lockdown; experiencing a novel, and sometimes painful exercise in creative living, re-inventing, reassessing one’s priorities. The world is undergoing lockdown and yes, of course, each one of us is living it out in unique ways, with our unique sensibilities and sense of aloneness.

These stories are inspired, and every author talks of the trigger that formed the basis for the narrative.

Some stories are more gripping than others, and some draw fiercely upon our imaginative selves – like stories – Air 3.0 by Lawrence Houldsworth, and, Gumsum -Nag by Amit Singh, who says that this story was born out of a guilt of not knowing enough about Kashmir. He musters poetic liberty in naming his characters in dystopian style and creating a ‘Kashmiri world’ out of his creative hat. It intrigued me, and gave me goose-flesh all at once. The quality of writing never failing the style of narrative he embarked upon.

Air 3.0 is an altogether unalike setting. My curiousity aroused, I cast aside notions of oxygenated air, even as I gulped it. Before awareness dawned on me, I was in the grips of sci-fi’ish scenario – where everything has a price, including AIR!

Houldsworth says that ‘The idea of everything having a price has preoccupied me for a while.’ And he is able to put forth this idea with aplomb. From the story: ‘Within a flash, the door was open and we poured through, harder than the rain. She was right, for as we rushed, so did the others, racing to collect the most. We looked up, it was not air 3.0, but it was not bad.”

Lovin’ Lockdown by Gargi Mehra is an excellent take on love from afar, which is essentially one-sided and heavily dependent upon one’s capacity for delusion, and prowess to seize love where one imagines finding it. It’s scripted in wonderful details of a man’s wish to conceal himself in an office building, and watch a couple – vicariously participating in their loving encounters. I enjoyed every bit of it. Mehra tell us that her flat faces an office building and while she mostly keeps her curtains drawn, she did not feel the need for privacy once the lockdown began. ‘what would happen if someone deliberately stayed back in the office to spy…’ and her narrative found wings.

Miticā by Kanishq Banka – the story of a couple ‘trapped’ in an apartment, not used to being together for so many long hours. Superbly woven together in numbers of days, and ends with a bang, no whimper there I assure you. A cat (they name Miticā) walks into their lives, and adopts them, which is when there begins a shift. I quote: “What is ‘Miticā’?” He moved his fingers over the cat’s soft fur. “It is Romanian, for ‘mythical’ I think,” she watched his face soften as he listened to the purring cat. “Like us,’ he looked up, a wistful smile on his lips. “We are a myth?” Her eyes now had a weariness. “I work all night; you work the whole day. We live together without seeing each other for weeks. There is no “we”. Just a myth on the papers….”

The Prognosis by Rajni Mishra – written in first person, is a clever take on a disturbed mind’s life. Her relationship with her therapist is corny and I quote : “I stimulate her prowess as a psychologist, I provide her with fodder that her acumen feeds on to thrive. She’s a decent doctor, you know.” The story builds on the protagonist Diya’s character and describes her mindset, which is ‘different’ and the manner in which she deals with what ordinarily passes us by. It captures and draws you into her world deftly. Mishra was inspired to pen this tale when she caught sight of a lizard on a wall for a long time. She wondered about those who live alone, especially folk with mental health issues.

Purva Grover’s The Sparkle, of the Girl, with Tiny Feet and Petite Shoes had me by the gut. I quote: “Who was she to me? Or who was I to her in those moments? I won’t go into either. We don’t need to define it all, do we? My gender, years of association, equation (with her), and relationship – does it matter?….Was there a tomorrow for her, for us? At that moment, I did not know.”

Grover niftily describes a scenario where a female patient lies on a bed, strapped onto paraphernalia- the works, and the beep beep of the monitor are the punctuations heard. As a reader, you are watching, and listening, and thinking, but never once do you get to know who it is that’s watching, listening, narrating. Beautifully done. ‘Numbers don’t have a face’, says Grover, and ‘2020 has taught us how to grieve in isolation, for the sake of the loved ones.’

Rose by Ajay Patri – conversations between two strangers, after a wrong number is dialed- their haunting connectedness, and a growing attachment to a voice without a body. Long conversations take on urgent meaning during this period of isolation. Patri conceived of the idea after attending the launch of a book on digital connectivity.

If these peeks don’t make you pick up this exceptionally-scripted collection, I would be surprised- each voice distinct, and each relevant.

Lockdown Longings is a good book, be it daytime or bedtime reading.

©kamalininatesanJuly2020