There was a time we were in love with our handbags, our collection of wrist watches, the assortment of brogues/sneakers/stilettos in our shoe cabinets. That time seems faraway right now. Life in lockdown has given rise to its own priorities and priority objects and some, like the ones mentioned below, are likely to gather dust until our old (and arguably self-destructive) ways of living return —if ever they do!
It’s almost unthinkable that the world’s most popular piece of clothing has bitten the lockdown dust. From something that was made to be worn and (almost) never taken off, our trusty denim jeans of late have been getting all mouldy from disuse. And why is that? Because there is only one dress code in home isolation: shorts, shorts and more shorts.
We don’t know how many would agree, but it’s been a while since we used a comb. We mean, what’s the point, right? Specially, when one can disable the camera on office calls and avoid looking into the mirror and at the wild amazon rainforest erupting from our heads.
Wrist watch/ Fitness trackers
Among the things made most redundant by mobile phones, wrist watches are still coveted by many: some of us simply feel naked and bare without them. But the other day, for want of anything productive to do, we launched a search for our time-teller and even after an hour of investigation were unable to locate it. A sad end to something that spends so much time in literal contact with us. Activity trackers, too, are facing the same sorry fate in home isolation.
It’s revenge time for all the sandal/crocs/slipper warriors! Since the lockdown came into place, not once have we even looked at our shoes. Ok, wait! Maybe we have shot our shoe rack a few forlorn glances of longing, but the fact remains: very little you can do with a pair of Nike trainers in a seventh-floor apartment that you cannot in a pair of ‘hawai chappals’.
Job Identity/Access Card
It hangs around our necks and belt loops like a permanent social marker. It’s absence can turn one from bonafide employee to rogue infiltrator. In most cases, it bears the most horrible photograph that we have ever posed for. But since WFH began, its importance in our lives has reduced so much that now we have no idea where it is. Hell, we can’t think of one bad thing about misplacing our office badges!
Wistful glances from the balcony and the occasional scrub job apart, our personal vehicles, mostly at the epicentre (maybe under the epicentre?) of our lives, have been pushed to periphery since the government asked us all to stay in. Getting in and gunning the engine just to keep it in shape just isn’t the same as an open road and fresh wind in your hair. But hey, given the normal, pre-lockdown traffic, what open roads and fresh wind are we even talking about! Ironic, that we can’t drive around in what is the best time to drive around in.
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