I know you don’t want to hear from me, and you probably don’t like me. And I don’t hate you for that, but trust me, I couldn’t leave without writing this to you. I know it was tough for you to deal with everything you had to over the months, but trust me, I cried with you. I understand that the virus took away too many lives, took away your loved ones, took away the social life you lived, took away your job, and a lot more. And I am sorry about this. I am sorry for your loss.
I know the wildfires of Australia, the Amphan cyclone through Bengal, the plane crash, the volcano eruption, the Cyclone Nivar in Tamil Nadu, fire breakouts, and too many earthquakes in Delhi were heartbreaking, you cursed me every time a disaster happened. And I shed tears, always. The stock market crashed, you had to stay in your homes, you lost your jobs, for some of you missed out on school and colleges. You were rushing between collecting essentials and washing hands, there was panic, and everyone suffered, and I cursed the previous year.
We lost our loved ones to Covid-19, we lost our favourite celebrities, we lost great sportsmen and the stadiums were empty. We watched IPL from the TV screens and screamed with the noises of the empty stadiums. But trust me, I never wanted this. I know some of you want to erase me, never remember me, just let go of me! I know you wouldn’t add ‘happy’ to ‘happy new year’ this year to keep the evil away.
You might not like what I am going to say further, but I must.
This pandemic has brought you closer to your family. You were in the balconies clapping and banging plates we were together. You lit a lamp for all the warriors we were all together. You watched Ramayana and Mahabharata on Doordarshan, and you drank kadha every day. You survived without junk food and did a lot of binge-watching. There was dalgona coffee, baking at home, and finding peace in the colour-changing skies. We lived in pyjamas, and in between audio and video off! And, I won’t take credit, but I made your wishes come true: ‘I want a six months vacation twice a year’ ‘ What if every day was a Sunday.’
I know I was tough on you, but you can say a sweet goodbye! Because you survived another year!
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