In Pursuit of Dummy Amie

Amie – her name means the ‘friend’ – and indeed she was my true friend. She was my inspiration. My role model.

Her round big eyes saw everything with a look of astonishment. Her long wavy hair were always neatly tied in a plait. When sad, she would pull a long face, making it further oblong. Even with a broad forehead, straight nose and thin lips she had very plain features. Slim body, tall and lanky legs only added to her homeliness. Combined with her simple dressing and unpretentious conduct, she had nothing remarkable about her.

She would wait for me to finish my work so that she could catch my attention. Yet, whenever I called her, she would hide behind some door or some curtain. Peeping at regular intervals, trying to catch my eye. Even with very few friends, she was a darling for all. Everyone tried talking to her, but she rarely responded. She only stared at them with her big round eyes and smiling face. Timid, sweet and shy – that was my Amie.

She would laugh hysterically on silliest of things. When no one noticed, she pranced around, dancing to her heart's content. She could sing all day long. She could talk to herself in the mirror. At times I would pretend to be busy with my work, while enjoying her antics from the corner of my eyes. And oblivious to my gaze, she would stay busy in her dream world. A world full of smiles, colors, love and all things beautiful.

She loved lying in grass, she played with trees, she adored pretty flowers. Most of the times she would play alone. At times she would sit alone for hours busy with her toys or books or just herself. Anything that she could lay her hands on. Anything that would catch her fancy or fuel her imagination. 

Amie always listened more and spoke less. One would mainly hear her voice when she was either singing or was lost in her own world, busy with her pretend plays. She never fought with her friends or cousins or classmates. She never fought with anyone, as she would always end up crying, with words choking her throat. She obeyed her elders and followed their advice. 

She never asked for anything. No birthday parties, no fancy gifts and no unreasonable demands. She was content with whatever she had, even if it was much less than her peers. I could never fully understand if she didn't know how to make a choice or she was genuinely accepting whatever came her way. From the food served, to clothes bought to gifts received, from luxuries to simplicities, I never heard her complain. She was neither brilliant nor street-smart. More ordinary than even run-of-the-mill.

I particularly don’t remember how, why or since when, but everyone called her Dummy Amie. And she never objected. Sometimes I wondered if she even knew what it really meant. Yet she accepted it as her real name, her true identity. At times I felt she justified the name more than the name justified her. She would miss simple and obvious, would ignore rationality and would perplex in face of complexity and conflict. Yet there were times when she spelled out composite life-theories as easily as two and two make four.

Why I loved my Amie, is something I can never explain. I found her smile infectious. I found her innocence irresistible. I found her simplicity inspirational. My friend, philosopher and guide; my little Amie.

Then it happened as it always happens in life. I had to move on. I changed jobs, got married, moved cities and became entangled with the various roles and responsibilities I took upon myself. My quest of new horizons took me far away from my homeland, away from the place where Amie was. 

Wherever I went, I carried her memory in my heart. Whenever I searched, I could find no one like her. Though I could never forget her, I never really went back to meet her.

Even today a part of me longs to see her again. I continue to search crowded streets, busy roads and social gatherings, hoping to again see that familiar face. I search for that innocence. I continue to live with a hope that I may see those big round eyes again, smiling at me. I hope I will be welcomed again without any questions, without expectations. I continue to search for that simplicity. I continue to search for ordinary. I continue to search for Amie. My Amie.

The Blind Date

Kumar was a simple, well-educated, well-qualified, well-earning Tam Bram bachelor. He was heading the finance department of a billion-dollar firm. His life was as clean and well documented as his balance sheets. It’s been almost a decade since his mom, or Amma as he would call her, has been searching for the right girl for him to marry. Elder among two brothers – Kumar and Arvind – he was undoubtedly Amma’s favourite. And this was the complete description of his existence in this world.

Amma calls him as ‘the most eligible bachelor around’. She was very particular about the kind of girl he should marry. Amma has a list of criteria that any girl must fulfill to qualify for the match. First and foremost, she must be from a Tamilian Brahmin family. The horoscopes should complement perfectly too. Education is equally important, with anything less than a post-graduate degree being totally unacceptable. Amma always meets the parents first. She firmly believes that parents play a key role in instilling a strong value-system in their children. Next she meets the girl and insists on talking to her one-on-one. As the last step Kumar is supposed to meet the girl and her family. This last round is not really a qualifying round but more of a formality. Everyone knows that Kumar will marry the girl Amma introduces him to. However, in all these years not even a single girl has reached this last stage. And thus, Kumar continues to be ‘the most eligible bachelor around’.

When Kumar grabbed an excellent job opportunity to work in another city, Amma supported his decision. His growth and well-being were of prime importance to her. A few relatives did try to scare her. Once away from her strict eyes, Kumar may find a girl of his choice. There were plenty of attractions available out there for a young unmarried boy. But Amma had full faith in her upbringing. It has now been many years since Kumar is staying alone, away from his family. But he has never given Amma a chance to complain.

Coming to present times, it was a lazy Sunday morning. After completing his morning exercises and two matches of badminton, Kumar prepared his breakfast. And sharp at 10:50am he opened his laptop and got ready for his conference call. Kumar’s boss was travelling for work and could only manage some free time on Sunday morning for a project update. Today they were supposed to connect with their company’s PR agency. The agency had requested for an increase in budget, a proposal Kumar was determined to oppose.

The conference call started. The PR agency was represented by a young and energetic Bengali girl. Everyone, including Kumar’s boss, addressed her as Ms Bose. She presented a strong case for the budget increase. Keeping aside his pre-decided conclusions and biases, even Kumar was highly impressed by her presentation. Her big bespectacled kohled eyes established a contact with her audience even through the virtual medium. She wasn’t beautiful in the true sense of the word. Yet there was a charisma which forced people to take notice of her. Her soft but authoritarian voice commanded attention of her listeners. She spoke confidently, stressing on key points, drawing logical conclusions. She clearly demonstrated a strong knowledge of her own domain and her client’s business requirements. All in all, if the presentation and the presenter left Kumar mesmerised, he surely didn’t show it on his face.

However, in his mind he acknowledged that he was up against a strong competition. If Ms Bose was such a strong challenger from the other side of the screen, she would have been a force to reckon with in person. For once Kumar heaved a sigh of relief that this meeting was scheduled over video conferencing.

Next it was Kumar’s turn to speak. He asked Ms Bose straight and very specific questions, leaving little room for ambiguity. He made logical and factual arguments. His demeanour was calm, but his approach was aggressive. Overall, he was a befitting reply to Ms Bose, and built a case which was almost impossible to dismiss.

The call ended on slightly satisfying and somewhat disappointing note. Management agreed to the proposal of increasing project budget, though much less than the requested amount. A win-win and a loss-loss kind of situation, depending on how we see it. In their hearts both Kumar and Ms Bose blamed each other for it.

Just when Kumar was wrapping up his lunch, Arvind called. Just to give a brief background, Arvind was probably more eager than even Amma, to get Kumar married off. He knew it quite well that Amma will never allow him to marry, until Kumar is well-settled in his life. So, he decided to make his contribution towards finding the ‘ideal match’. And to suit his personal motives, he has been trying to get Kumar hooked-on through a love marriage route. He has even found a unique way of doing it. For every occasion, for every festival, for every bet he wins…..he only asks for one thing….Kumar should go on a blind date. A date with someone he has never met before. He had even coined a code word for it – Parisu – the gift. That also ensured that even if Amma heard about it, she wouldn’t know the true meaning of it. Only Kumar and Arvind knew that the only gift was – a blind date, with a girl Arvind would introduce him to.

And today was one such day. When Kumar had to deliver yet another parisu to Arvind. If one must speak honestly, then Kumar had also started enjoying this ritual. None of his meetings would last more than 15-20 min. In majority cases, Kumar found it difficult to even sustain a conversation. No, not because of lack of confidence or nervousness. But he would find most conversations below his level of interest. Arvind even tried searching for seemingly studious and high on intellect ‘dates’. But Kumar would brush them aside as lackluster. 

Kumar still felt disappointed from the conference call earlier in the day. To top it, today’s date seemed least of all interesting, as it was virtual. Due to a last-minute change in plan, the girl chosen for today’s ‘parisu’ couldn’t meet outside. Not willing to let go of the opportunity, Arvind had arranged for an online meeting. And he had called Kumar to give him the dial-in details. “Online date!! Online blind date!!” Kumar was amused more than usual. He didn’t expect this one to last more than first five minutes.

Kumar dialled-in at the scheduled time. Nandini, his ‘blind date’ for today, was already there. As soon as Kumar was connected, in stead of welcoming him with a ‘hello’, she started with “Hey, I am really sorry.” Without waiting for any reaction from Kumar, Nandini continued, “First I had to schedule this as an online meeting since I couldn’t step out of home today. And now my broadband is not working, hence I had to dial-in using my phone, which means I can’t use the video-calling. I had asked Arvind if we could cancel or postpone this to another date, but he said you are already blocked for next couple of weeks.” Kumar couldn’t control his smile on this statement. Meanwhile Nandini continued, “My apologies again, this is probably much worse than what you may have expected. And I will surely not blame you, if you want to end this here itself. I will go back to my book and you can spend your time on something you enjoy.” The ball was now in Kumar’s court. All this while he was silently sitting in front of a blank screen of his laptop, slightly amused with the different turns this day was taking. But now it was his turn to unmute himself and speak for the first time. In his mind he was happy at this opportunity of ending the conversation there itself. Less than first five minutes, exactly as he had expected. But in stead of ending it, he found himself asking, “Which book are you reading?”

Really?? Kumar regretted as soon as he spoke those words. He couldn’t understand what was wrong with him. Maybe he didn’t want to sound rude, he consoled himself. Must be some romantic tragedy, he thought. I will quickly wrap this up, he was still trying to convince himself. “It’s a book by Robert Green….” It was Nandini’s turn to speak. But by now Kumar had lost the battle with himself. He had read those books, had enjoyed them thoroughly, could read them again and couldn’t stop himself from continuing the discussion. For next hour or so Kumar sat glued to his laptop, still staring at the blank screen, captured by the voice coming through his ear-plugs.  

Nandini was witty and smart, innocent and sensible, shy and out-spoken, and all at the same time. Her free and hearty laugh was almost infectious for Kumar. She was open and meditative about sensitive topics, passionate about art and had an intelligent sense of humour. From no-nothings to political debates, from their hobbies to ambitious dreams, they covered a vast variety of topics. On each topic Kumar would try and test Nandini’s depth of knowledge and maturity of thought. Oblivious to his attempts, Nandini would speak freely, without making an attempt to create a positive impression and not in a bit realising that she was leaving him awestruck.

They had been happily chatting away for more than an hour when Nandini suddenly exclaimed, “oh wow, power has been restored. I can switch on the modem and my laptop. Give me a min please.” With this, she dropped off the call. However, Kumar stayed. Waiting eagerly to see her. To see the smile that was already brightening the day for him. And soon Nandini dialled back in.

When she started the video, Kumar froze in his chair. Two big black kohled eyes were staring at him from behind the spectacles. The long black wavy hair were now tied loosely and were falling on her shoulders. Nandini Bose was equally stunned to see Kumar again on her laptop screen, second time in a single day. She took a minute to steady herself from this shock and then burst out laughing at this funny co-incidence. As for Kumar, he was only smiling. And Nandini’s laughter was filling the space around him.

That was the first day when Kumar went to bed smiling. Next morning as he opened his eyes, the smile returned on his face. He had no clue what turn life would take after this. He only knew that henceforth his screen will not be blank and his dates won’t be blind.

**All characters in this story are imaginary. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is coincidental.**

Life Re-answered

Recently I came across an interesting anecdote. Sharing here for your pensive consumption.

Once a teacher decided to give a surprise test to his class. As his students settled for the day’s lecture, he started handing out their question-papers. After a few quick glances students pointed out that they had already written this test a few months back. The teacher smiled and replied, “Yes, I am aware. But what you don’t know is that your answers would have changed.” 

And this question itself was worth answering - if ever life repeats its questions, do we change the answers?

Very often I hear people asking – what if life gives you another chance? A second chance to either turn the clock backwards or to revisit the old lanes. Another chance to do something differently, something better, more right.

I have never ever managed to find even a single episode of my life, which I would change, if given a choice. Even the darkest days, even the biggest mistakes, even the unplanned unexpected turn of events, I never wish for them to be otherwise. This is not my mature outlook towards life. This is just a simple acceptance of things the way they were and the way they are.

I have not known life in any other way. Even if I try imagining the chain of events any differently, I fail miserably. Every dark cloud of life has had a silver lining. I just needed time to see it. Every time I survived a bumpy stretch of the journey, I picked up some things to take along. Some baggage of the past is still there with me. Some valuables were lost mid-way. Yet, I can’t complain. Whichever turns it takes, life will remain a mixed bag of events, some happy some sad. Its easier to accept and live with the ones I have known. Than struggling with the thoughts of the unknown.

However, the problem at hand is slightly different. If life were to ask me some of these questions now again, if I get to choose between the same or similar options again, if I happen to revisit the same crossroad again, will my answer, my choice be the same? May be or may not be. Its not about correcting the past mistakes. Its not about guilt pangs or lessons learnt the hard way. It is about those situations where we re-define our choices, without being apologetic about a previous decision. 

It was quite interesting to ponder over some of these questions and some of these choices. Specially those where my answers have indeed changed.

My most recent experience of making a new choice came when career presented yet another opportunity. As in previous cases, this break came with a promise of better growth and heftier pay package. Also, as it happened previously, these gains were available at the cost of geographical relocation. Having worked in six different cities and four different organizations over a span of a decade and a half, I have always endorsed a change. Along with the benefits of growth and prosperity, it brought along diverse work environments, varied organisational and social cultures, transgenerational co-workers, new skills and a plethora of business problems to solve for. All in all, a complete package for my wholistic development.

While that choice was right at that point in time, the need of the hour has changed. Today stability is a bigger priority than growth. Regular and regimented routines appeal more to my sensibilities than spurts of unplanned unexpected excitement. Today time spent with family and friends leaves me more satiated, than the over-hyped ‘me’ time. A plateauing out career graph doesn’t scare me anymore, but the thought of my personal life going on a whirlwind ride does send shivers across my being.

The other aspect where my answers and approach to life has changed, is with respect to my standing in my interpersonal relations. I no longer hesitate in accepting my mistakes, acknowledging my short-comings and laughing out loud on my blunders. I have always been very understanding and accommodating towards the needs and feelings of my near and dear ones. Now I am equally vocal and demanding about my own choices and wishes. Always endowed with an independent mind, I abstained from voicing it out unless needed. My value-based up-bringing had instilled in me some discipline around communication too. I would speak when spoken to, refrained from giving unsolicited advice, gave people ample space to express their views. A patient listener, I have learnt and gained a lot from people around me. From following their words of wisdom, from sharing their experiences and learning from their mistakes. While my silence helped me navigate many a delicate situation peacefully, now my voice is needed to address the challenges. While my listening skills helped me establish many close ties, my debating skills will help in ironing out the creases.  

Both these decisions have had a life-changing impact on me. While superficially they were related to one single objective, in reality they touched every aspect of my existence. From my personal and professional standing, my writings, my learnings, my interactions with family, friends and acquaintances, all had at least one thread connected with each of these decisions. 

Last but not the least, if ever life brings me to a point where I have the choice available…..I will learn to dance. That is one question where I have known the answer all along. Now only waiting for the question to pop-up.

The Letter

“Let me start by saying Thank You for making me look for you as friend.”

I smiled reading these lines. And couldn’t help but wonder if I really played any role here.

I recently received a letter from someone who had been reading my blogs, now consistently for some time. We briefly interacted over chats and calls, intermittently over a 3-year period. I was never a frequent writer, and neither was he a prompt reader. But somehow, we would catch up somewhere in between. Primarily exchanging notes over the random thoughts shared in those writings. Sometimes we agreed, at times we debated, and some days we amicably ended the conversation each respecting other’s opinion.  

It all started with some casual remarks and then one day a conversation struck. I always despised self-praise. And for one of my write-ups he commented, ‘this is surely a good attempt at blowing your own trumpet.’ Needless to say, I wasn’t going to take this silently, and strongly voiced my objection. It did put him on a defensive, and he replied back, ‘Its okay to play your own trumpet, it plays loud and clear.’ To which my response was, ‘Loud is noise. Trumpets sound more musical when someone else plays it for you.’ And rest as they say is history.

Our conversations, irrespective of the medium, would usually last more than an hour. We would talk about the recent piece of writing, the triggering thought, a few hidden anecdotes and of course the key underlying message. During these discussions, I would do most of the talking. He would only interject occasionally, with a question or comment, often starting the sentence with ‘my friend’. Where I would take a few paragraphs to elaborate on some point, he would simply summarize it in a single phrase or sentence. A sentence starting with ‘my friend’.

If I can honestly admit, he did inspire a few stories or write-ups. His questions prompted me to dig into old albums, go through old scribbling and take walks in the memory lanes. And more often than not a new idea, a new thought and a new story would start taking shape. They say artists – of any art form – thrive on audience feedback. It was no different with me. He was generous and honest in his compliments and also in his criticism. Over time I started referring to him as my sounding board, recipient of my thinking-out-loud ideas. Someone who would patiently hear my convoluted thoughts, would not react to my occasional absurd comments and would ignore the aberrations in my views or opinions. And whenever he inspired a new piece of writing, I would tease him as my story-board.

Our association, though sporadic had a lasting impact on me. At times I felt as though he played the role of a catalyst in my personal evolution. I cant deny I may have had some influence on him too. But it was challenging for me to elaborate on his part of the story. I was the writer and he was the reader. While he had all access to my expressions, for me he was a blank screen.

And today I have received a letter from him. An invitation letter to visit his home for his son’s naming ceremony. And this visit would mark formalization of a friendship so special.

Dreams Redefined

A dreamer's perspective......

“See!! I made your dream come true!!”

He was smiling with a coffee mug in his hand and greeted me with this statement as soon as the video chat was connected.

“And I promise,” he continued, “I will come down to meet you as soon as this locked down opens up.”  He even showed me his social media post, where he had mentioned my name, along with others, as people he wants to meet once the world is free of this dreaded disease. (COVID-19 – year 2020).

Earlier that day, I had messaged my long-not-seen, long-distance friend, telling him about the dream that woke me up that morning. I saw the global locked-down had come to an end. We were again moving about like free birds. To celebrate the occasion, we had met in a coffee shop. He laughed out loud when I cracked a joke and threw potato fries at me.

And I woke up with a start, still smiling from my dream and the joke.

I am not complaining at all. But a part of me preferred the dream over this reality.

He had turned my dream into an objective, a goal to be met. It was now also partially real, even though in a virtual medium. I agree I can’t touch it, but I can see it, hear it and feel it. And very soon this reality will turn to a memory. I will cherish the memory. And yet will miss my dream.

For me the dream meant hope. Something I would look forward to. I cherished my dream. Of course, I want it to turn into a reality one day. But I prefer waiting for that day without desperation or despair. I want to enjoy my journey, without any pressure or expectation of timelines or targets. I want to think about my dreams, imagine them every day, with my eyes wide open. Without the fire of ambition burning underneath, and its smoke filling my eyes.

But this is my perspective. A dreamer’s perspective. I don’t want my dreams to keep me awake at night. I want them to take me towards a deep slumber, with a smile on my face.

Love Quarantined

They were not alone. They had each other. They were not alone. They had the world with them. Even in these trying times of COVID-19, their love could only be isolated, it couldn’t be washed away.

News of the pandemic was pouring in from all quarters. Countries after countries were getting into this battle, their citizens suffering, dying and governments declaring war against an unseen unknown virus. It was during these trying times, with the macro picture becoming gloomy, two micro-souls decided to pick up the cudgels in their own hands, to save their little world.

Abhimanyu’s business travel had been planned six months earlier. A four-week long trip, with pre-booked appointments, hotel reservations and flight tickets. All as usual. It was during one such meeting, that he had heard of a strange new disease being discovered in some silent sleepy part of the world. At that point it was just a good-to-know news headline, which helps in casual conversations before business negotiations set in. But things were drastically different by the end of his trip. Facial mask was already in vogue and social distancing was taking the world by a storm. International travelers were being scanned at every airport. Their travel footprints under scrutiny. Landing back in his own land, Abhimanyu couldn’t resist feeling like a smuggler. Though no one mentioned it explicitly, yet it seemed as they all suspected him to be a virus-peddler. Carrier of a deadly viral strain.

Abhimanyu was a rational and well-sorted individual. He brushed aside the negative thoughts and focused on the tasks at hand. He was extremely co-operative with the airport medical team. He answered all questions patiently, without hiding any facts, sharing all necessary details. While still on his travel, he had read extensively about this new disease, its symptoms, means of transmissions etc. He was also abreast with all the measures government agencies world over and in his homeland were taking to combat this crisis. He too was equipped with a plan….a plan to save his world.

As he had expected, Abhimanyu walked out of the airport with a government stamp on one hand and a letter advising home quarantining in another. And he was fully prepared to follow the advice to the last dot. Living under the same roof with his parents, wife and kids, Abhimanyu realised the possible risk he was putting everyone else at. As per the initial statistics, mortality rates were higher in senior citizens infected by this disease. Though evidence of contraction was low, he surely didn’t want his kids to go through the ordeal of any illness. He and his wife Mamta were the two pillars of their household, each equally important for its existence and balance. All in all, these lives were too precious to be risked. Keeping all this in mind, Abhimanyu and Mamta decided to chalk out a detailed plan.

Mamta drove down to the airport to receive Abhimanyu. They met in the parking lot. No hugs, no kisses, no miss you. Only a glance and a smile, just to reiterate that they were together. Abhimanyu got into the car as Mamta walked away to the taxi stand. He was clear, he wouldn’t spend the hour-long journey from the airport to home, with her in the same car.

Back home, Mamta had done all arrangements. Abhimanyu’s parents shifted to his sister’s house for next two to three weeks. Their kids moved in with Mamta’s parents. She had dropped each one of them to their planned destination a night prior to his arrival.

Abhimanyu was already waiting in the car park, when Mamta reached home. She opened the door for him, and straight went to the kids’ room to freshen up. She had already moved her stuff into the kids’ room. It was going to be hers for the coming weeks. Abhimanyu on the other hand, entered the house and straight went to the master bedroom, and locked the door. Next two weeks were going to be critical. A wait and watch situation, with lots of prayers and much more precaution thrown in.

Abhimanyu and Mamta had always been sticklers of cleanliness. The current situation only augmented their efforts in maintaining hygienic conditions. Abhimanyu stayed inside his room for next two weeks. Every day Mamta would keep snacks, meals and other necessities outside his door. He, on the other hand, would clean his clothes and dishes. He would then leave the stuff outside his room for Mamta to pick-up for the final wash. Mamta ensured all utensils and clothes, including hers, were washed in hot water. The house was cleaned regularly, with ample use of detergents & sanitizers. Herbal tea, hot water gargling, steam inhalations etc were now part of their daily routines. They also tried to include all other home-remedies like ginger, turmeric, black pepper etc. in their daily meals. Visitations were reduced to less than bare minimum. Mamta too almost never stepped out of the house. Even if some household stuff was needed to be purchased, she would call up their neighbors. The required items were then delivered at their doorstep. Prevention was better than cure, and they wanted to prevent an infection to the extent possible.  

There was a common wall between kid’s room and master bedroom. And this wall became the symbol of their resolve. Mamta & Abhimanyu were staying in the same house but were mainly interacting through phone calls and video chats. They would still have the evening cup of tea together, but conversation would take place through virtual media. They would regularly connect with friends and family through conference calls. Each sitting in their respective rooms, they would stay engaged in their tasks and hobbies, yet calling out to each other in between. They would still tease each other, crack jokes, argue on petty issues and discuss family matters. But all this with a brick wall between them. The physical distance of 1meter & more between them at all times, was only bringing them together, binding them more than ever before.

They had their weak moments too. Times when loneliness would start pinching. When longing for family and each other would start hurting. Their otherwise free spirits were jailed, and they longed to be out on the road, breathing in open fresh air. For once both missed the hustle and bustle of busy streets, traffic jams and morning rush. They yearned for street food, shopping sprees and mundane grocery stores. It seemed their world was getting restricted to laptop and mobile screens. Digitization maintained a human touch in their lives, but only figuratively, and they craved for it literally. Self-discipline was both tiring and scaring. There were days when fear would take over logic. There were times when heart would sink, and it all seemed like an endless dark tunnel. And the news pouring in from world over would dampen their spirits further.

It was during these times that their love for each other and their families came to their rescue. Their will to live gave them strength. And even repeated washes couldn’t fade their resolve to stand by each other.

Today two-weeks of quarantining are coming to an end. Abhimanyu hasn’t developed any of the known symptoms of this dreaded infection. Yet their battle will continue for days to come. The quarantine regimen is likely to extend to next few days, as an additional precautionary measure. However life may take longer to come back to its old pattern. Soon after the end of self-quarantine, they will join their community in the fight against this pandemic. They have and will continue to contribute to communal well-being.

And I am sharing their story with you in a hope that their restraint and resilience will inspire you in the same way as it has done for me.