Lockdown tales: What I learnt about myself – columns – Hindustan Times

A view of Connaught Place during the national lockdown, New Delhi , April 25, 2020(ANI)

Thirty days into the lockdown and I’m discovering things about myself. It’s not a coming-to-terms so much as a revelation. I wasn’t aware I was like that. Consequently, my perception of myself — what sort of bloke I think I am — has changed.

In my 20s and 30s, I hated being alone at home. Nisha, my late wife, was an investment banker and travelled frequently. Before every journey, she would line up friends who would willingly have me over or, more likely, let me take them out to the theatre or for dinner. Being on my own filled me with dread. It wasn’t just loneliness. Nor an inability to find diverting ways of passing the time. Perhaps it was the silence, the absence of chatter. More probably, it was dislike of my own company. And on the rare occasion when no one would “babysit” me, I’d switch on every light in the house. But I would still fret.

Well, I’ve changed. If Nisha were around, she’d say I’ve grown up! The long lockdown evenings have revealed I’m quite happy on my own. Actually, I look forward to returning to my silent empty television room. Sometimes I read, occasionally I watch a video, but mostly I just fritter away the time doing nothing in particular. And I don’t spend hours on the phone catching up with family and friends. A quick call to find out all’s well, but no long gossip sessions. The astonishing truth is I’m content by myself and don’t feel I’ve missed anything or even anyone. I’m happy on my own.

So, was there a hermit lurking inside me, hiding behind an earlier insecure personality that needed company and attention? Or have I realised I’m not as horrid as I feared, I was and can easily live with myself? Who knows? If I was of a philosophical or psychological bent of mind I might attempt to answer, but I’m not. I’ve noticed the change. Let wiser people fathom the explanation.

The other thing I’ve discovered is far more mundane. A man’s best friend is not his dog. It’s his barber. I used to submit myself to Rajesh’s and Govind’s ministrations every four weeks. It’s been an unfailing routine for 30 years and more. As a result, the short-back-and-sides appearance they gave me was how I liked to see myself. And since your hair determines how you look, I guess they were the architects of my appearance.

Now, in their absence, I look like an overgrown hedge at India Gate! Or, if that’s hard to visualise, let me say I resemble Sathya Sai Baba of Puttaparthi. There’s something wild and unkempt about my appearance. My hair isn’t just long and disorderly. It’s risen like a beehive and become quite resistant to brush and comb. Whenever I meet Rajesh or Govind, they’ll need shears to attack it. Mere scissors won’t do!

The third discovery is a trifle disconcerting. I wonder if you’ve noticed something similar in yourself. I read an awful lot about the wretched virus — far more than I should— but I seem to forget as much as I take in! I can finish a learned piece confident that I’ve understood it only to wake the next morning unsure of the details I thought I could easily remember or having forgotten the definitions that seemed so straightforward the night before.

Now, there can only be two explanations for this. One is the early onset of Alzheimer’s disease but I think not. Or do I mean I hope not? The other is that the reading you do as you nibble post-prandial chocolates and sip a single malt is not the most valuable contribution to self-education. Until the lockdown, I always thought I took it all in. Now I realise if you really want to concentrate, a nimboo-pani is a better aid than a gimlet. Incidentally, if this lockdown doesn’t end on May 3, that’s all I’ll have left to drink!