Lockdown Diaries Nominee#46 My Typical Quarantine Routine- Dixon Pulikkathara Johnson

Putting an end to my invocation queuing in succession are the eerie hours of quivering night into the boughs of which I perch in search of aesthetic beauty of dissimilar genre.
Unless awaken by morning dream or once in a blue moon rooster crowing, it’s the midnight set alarm intrudes my cozy repose. Very soon the so-called fight begins inside me as in Shakespearean drama “to be or not to be” (to wake up or continue to sleep). Not letting the drowsiness catch hold of my resoluteness, my eyes open up to see the new day sun beams percolating through the half open window panes. Not withholding I roll up my mat where I crouched comfortably till then. Holding on the window rails which open to the next door neighbor that my room overlooks, I blink my eyes to see their front door is wide open or bolted from inside which is most often to be the latter said.
Switching to shorts from dhoti makes me little more laid back to kick start my workout consuming only a little portion of my otherwise sedentary solitary confinement. Stepping to the main hall down the stair case signals me of the yet to be served mother made breakfast filling my nostrils with aromatic dish air around me. “Good morning” says my dad to which a sometimes cold look and a very rare faint response is what I mutter.
Two glasses of tepid water that is what I imbibe before the morning ablution (morning routine). Moving through the top stories and sometimes delving into details on the hot news in the newspaper abruptly ends when my mom sets the first hot meal of the day before me. Subsequently, to the world of imagination I withdraw which is my aspiration, but losing my path on the halfway drive I am allured to the bewitching and masquerading to be infotainment, yet addictive social networking sites. Sometimes I wear the overalls and straw hat of a typical American cowboy herding Indian jumnapari goats to the grazing field which is really a great pastime which the modern man literally misses to have.

The rustling of the banyan tree leaves and the long crackling sound of the dried plantain tree leaves overburdened with the yellow ripe bunch of bananas together with the dancing of the riverside never to bloom long grown shrubs and bushes definitely add to my enjoying the natural beauty of the panoramic landscape, the lush green pastures. When the sun throws the hot rays of the day in 90-degree angles I turn back home and my ceaseless awaiting huddled in the sofa in the living room goes on until the wall mounted pendulum clock hits one o’ clock.

Wow! I could eat a horse; lunch is ready to be served but without fish, without meat, without chicken, yet surprisingly makes it scrumptious. Let alone sitting I ponder whether the world has turned topsy turvy just in a few days completely changing everybody’s diet and lifestyle. Succeeding hours the afternoon siesta prolongs up to late afternoon and refreshes my mood with a ginger black tea to stir back to vigor after awaken.

Night is calm except for the owls’ hooting and nocturnal lives’ over traffic in the air, like the sky above America in a typical business day. So soon, in the edges of the moonbeam scattered lane, I stroll and stride to burn out excessive calories, so momentous physically demanding activity which unless interrupted lasts for long up to one hour, the normal fatigue excruciates my veins and muscles therewith.
Holding my horses is a whirlpool bath which I imagine; instead I take a shower in the bathroom in sun-heated water flowing from the tank kept on the terrace. Ensuing time I occupy a back seat in the prayer room like a fervent devotee reciting rosary but without a liturgy or psalms in the hand. Putting an end to my invocation queuing in succession are the eerie hours of quivering night into the boughs of which I perch in search of aesthetic beauty of the dissimilar genre. Involuntarily in some point of time in the midnight, the guardian angels of god sing me to slumber.

ReachIvy.com organized an online blog/vlog competition to provide people the unique opportunity to share their lockdown stories using their creativity. Dixon Pulikkathara Johnson from India and he pens down how his life came to a standstill and how he had the time to appreciate the little things in life during the lockdown. Here is a little snippet for you to read. ‘Putting an end to my invocation queuing in succession are the eerie hours of quivering night into the boughs of which I perch in search of aesthetic beauty of dissimilar genre. Unless awaken by morning dream or once in a blue moon rooster crowing, it’s the midnight set alarm intrudes my cozy repose. Very soon the so-called fight begins inside me as in Shakespearean drama “to be or not to be” (to wake up or continue to sleep). Not letting the drowsiness catch hold of my resoluteness, my eyes open up to see the new day sun beams percolating through the half open window panes’.

The above entry has been submitted by Dixon Pulikkathara Johnson from India. He is a 36-year-old. Kudos to Jia Xin for this beautiful piece!

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