Prioroties

This is about last morning's incident. I know, in this "COVID-Era" (if that term
exists) every one of us has had vivid experiences to share.  What I share
too maybe parallel to something one of you must have encountered too.

I have to begin with my April
routines to reach this morning’s anecdote. From the month of April, it has been
a ritual for me to visit the supermarket once in a fortnight dressed like a
bandit (covering every possible inch of my skin with full clothing), mask, and gloves. As I stand
at the entrance of Lulu supermarket, my temperature will be checked. Now even the "Ehetraaz
app" activated on my phone, for my COVID-health status.  If it shows
green, I enter the supermarket. God forbid if it ever shows amber or red, I
enter the ambulance. This is only my fears.

But, I continue to go. Fill the cart
with loads of supplies, veggies, snacks, and return home where my two kids who currently
are on "Zoom-Schooling"(if that term exists too) help me sort the
things out and throw things in their places. This way, the kids even know where
the masala boxes go in my kitchen. This is the new productive utilization of
time and life skills they are adding on.

 6P.M. Now. As I type, I am seated in the garden
outside in my locality where my 6year old son cycles with his other masked
buddies. And I notice a frail-looking young boy with a bunch of papers
approaching me.  He turned out to be an
ordinary expatriate that is jobless for 3 months and is apparently unable to even board
the “Government’s Vande Mataram flight” to India due to lack of finance. So a man who
earned a decent salary 3 months back stood with folded hands begging for me
shell out a few Riyals if that could help him travel back to India. When I
directed him to the embassy he showed me papers rejected by them (for whatever
reasons).  “Where is the money for the ticket?”.

 That leaves me quite heavy-hearted
and off track. Where was I. Yes, I was narrating my supermarket experience in
this COVID-Times. 

Well, so coming to the main point
now. What was that incident that happened this morning?.  

As I got out of the supermarket, I saw a
middle-aged looking, sad-eyed, well-built man with hands tied at the back
staring at me as he paced by the Lulu Exit doors. Ignoring his looks, I walked
to my car and reached home. After all my chores, cooking, and lunch I plonked
on the couch and clicked open the WhatsApp window.

I see a hello” from an unknown
number with a DP of the same man pacing by the Lulu exit.  All my attempts to place him in vain only left me chiding my memory capacity of remembering people's names or faces.  Well, now,  I dialed the number of this mysterious man and
sternly asked “yes, could you please tell me your name. You have whattsapped
me”.

After the 6 minutes call, I threw my
phone smiling yet very heavy-hearted. Almost too emotionally upset and tears
swelling up as if waiting to be swept away and looking for an opportunity for.
As he reminded our short meeting a few months ago, and I had told him “Aladdin so
where is your chirag?. He reminded me, and we laughed”. A call that began with an angry anxiousness
ended with smiles and emotions.

His name was Aladdin. An uber
driver. Who drove me and my little son back from a function one night at 10pm
when my pride, my Landcruiser shrunk in the parking with punctured tires. I had
booked an Uber for the first time in Doha! My son’s first remark was “yaeeks,, so dirty car, why is a water
bottle on the seat. I will not sit in this car”. The driver smiled as I pushed my son on the seat petulantly.

Soon, he jumped on the seat, singing
loudly. I had to instruct him to belt himself and keep his volume low. But the driver
laughed and struck a conversation.

“Madam, he reminds me of my son. In
Mysore”

“Mysore!! My jaws and chin fell almost apart. You are Kannadiga?”

That’s it. I am now not narrating
what the next 10 minutes of the conversation were about.

 “So, Aladin, where is your Chirag”
I had told him.

And today, in sheer frustration of
losing the job, savings, and no money to even call me, he had messaged me that too
after borrowing a hot spot of the internet from the Lulu Supermarket's security personnel.

Now I realized his shying away from
approaching me at the exit as I did not recognize him. He did not want to
pester me. Is what he said.

“I know ma’am I can not ask you for
a job. I just called…ma’am…sumne..sumne.. meaning simply in Kannada.” He sounded unnecessarily apologetic. I tried to feel in his shoes and I could gather empathy for his situation. After all, it was me who had given
him my number when he had shared his interest in bringing along his wife and
son here to Doha soon as she could look for a teaching job here.  All his dreams were puffed away by a
tiny microbe called the corona.

And most importantly, I placed this
call to him, in the afternoon, right when my kids were in the midst of an argument, how I forgot
to buy the “son-papdi, and lollipops” ordered by them. We have to now wait for
15 days for that. Drat. Moreover, they had helped me with the mopping and vacuuming that day!

 Priorities!

After narrating Aladin’s anecdote, my
daughter, touched her heart, and with a question filled smile said” ayyo
amma… what can we do, so many....”

Ayyo,....Yes. So many…problems! The world had so
many problems. And the most unpredictable priorities. We are nothing different from a capsized vessel trying hard to fight the storm and survive.

The only solution Corona gave apart from problems was a bit of relief to global warming. The coronavirus-triggered lockdown has led to a steep fall in global carbon emissions by 17 percent in early April as compared to 2019 levels with India's emissions dropping by 26 per cent, according to a study.