Sunday, 18 July 2021
After the mandatory walking within the flat, and
breakfast, settled in front of the laptop. Facebook. Not regular in scanning
messages but do try to respond to the personal good morning messages. Just
started responding to such messages when Shivam, my grandson (“I am a big boy
now. I am four and half years old”) shows up and directs, “Muthashaa, Chalo
(Grandpa, come)!” “Kahan (where)?”, I ask. “Neeche, chalne ke liye
(downstairs, for a walk)”. Before I could react, he closes the laptop and catches
hold of my hand, “Chalo”. Nobody dares question him. We go downstairs
(he sometime prefers to use the stairs rather than the lift) (we are on the
second floor). Ruchi, my daughter (in-law) carries his tricycle. He cycles, we
walk.
After an hour Ruchi goes back with the tricycle.
Shivam stays back, and so do I. We go to the park, he swings for a while, and
then just walk around. We come out and walk on the road around the park.
Suddenly he asks, “Which way will you take (to go in)?” There are three
entrances to the small park. I point at one entry. He says, “I will come in
through that (the other) entry”. We both enter the park through different
entries and meet in the middle. He triumphantly giggles because he reached
first.
I did not see the watch, but thought it should be
around 10.30. I ask, “Shivam, shall we return home?” He is disappointed. Not
willing to return yet. “Nghoo, nghoo”, he whimpers. I bend down and whispers in
his ear, “Muthashan ko shoo shoo karna hai (Grandpa wants to pee)”. That
settles the matter. He is immediately ready to return. He again uses the
stairs.
Once inside he removes the mask and straightaway goes
to the wash basin. Washes both hands with soap, each finger separately, inside
the palms, the wrists, and then starts counting slowly while continuing to rub
the fingers, “one, two, three, … nineteen, twenty”. Kept washing for twenty
seconds. Washes away soap from both hands.
It is 11 o’ clock. I settle down once again in front
of the laptop with my second breakfast. This time opens WhatsApp first. Several
personal and group messages. Just glance through them casually. ICF Webinars.
Vivek’s message, “We are online”. Suddenly a flash of light. Oh! The Sunday
webinar, this time the free-for-all one. Am already late. Another three
minutes, am in. Switch off audio (don’t want to disturb the group) and video (a
little shy to eat in a meeting).
Vivek assures participants that anything can be
discussed. “It is not being recorded”, he asserts with a smile. It was all
about he/she, you and I. ‘Nothing official about it’. Professional, personal,
chats on anything under the sun. It was more of understanding each other. Each
participant talked about him/herself. The ups and downs in life, professional
and personal, places one liked, and so on. We talked about linked-in, clubhouse
and a few other fora. Vivek regretted our inability to meet face-to-face due to
the pandemic and hoped the situation would improve soon. I liked Anupam’s
suggestion that the term ‘freelance editing’ should be replaced by ‘editing
profession’.
Today’s web-chat (won’t call it a webinar) was like a
cool breeze in the desert. Such occasional chats will help us to sit back and
relax, to unbundle some of our worries, to open our minds, in front of an
understanding, empathizing, and extremely helpful group. LET US DO IT MORE
OFTEN. Thank you, Murugaraj for the idea
and thank you, Vivek, for organizing it and thank you participants, for making
it worthwhile two hours.
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