(Originally written in April 2020 )

The alarm starts blaring at 6.30 am. I snooze it until it gives us up on me and stops ringing altogether. Then I wake up with a jolt. Its 7.20 already. I skip the leisurely bathroom routine and get straight to the grind. I begin with the stubbornly stained utensils from yesterday and work my way to the floor. Cant believe I told myself sweeping would be good exercise. I try to mop the floor with as much grace as I can muster before I get to the cold cup of tea sitting on the table.

Its almost 9 am. Almost time for the first meeting of the day.

Just when I have splashed my face with water, put on a fancy shirt over my pyjamas and set up my zoom meeting, the four year old wakes up and demands to sit on my lap and have her morning cup of milk.

I struggle to wake up the sleepy head who is tucked blissfully in our bed and with much debate remind him that he might be out of business for the period of the lockdown, I am not.

The clock strikes 9. She’s still in my lap, watching something intently on my phone while sipping her milk from her sippy bottle and I wait for my husband’s ‘me time’in the bathroom to get over. He is finally out and about and can take over breakfast and toddler duties. When I reveal myself on the zoom meeting I see a giant milk stain on my shirt staring back at me mockingly.I instantly switch off my video, apologizing for the bad network today.

The rest of the day goes glued in front of a screen, deciding two or three ingredient menus, arguing on what needs to be sanitized today and trying to get that content piece out on time while my four year old expends her energy on, under, over and around me.

It’s time for lunch. While I haven’t found the time to cook it, I promise my husband that I will take out time to feed it lovingly to our daughter. After all, I have read all these articles about how I should utilize this time to bond with family and do all the things that I couldn’t get to do normally.

While the husband cooks us hot rotis, I feed them to this thankless brat who keeps announcing she is ‘full’ after every morsel. My phone starts ringing. It’s a colleague asking about the presentation that’s due tomorrow. Just as I begin discussing product launches with him, my daughter finds an opportune moment to spit her food all over the carpet. “I told you I was full” she says and starts crying at the top of her mighty voice.

I look toward my husband with pleading eyes , he picks her up, calms her down and puts her down for her nap. She proclaims that she doesn’t like her momma just before she drifts off to sleep.

It’s time for another zoom meeting. The house is quiet and I finally find my mojo back and feel ready to kickass. I talk confidently about my groundbreaking ideas to everyone in the meeting. Instead of applause, I see frozen faces and realize that I have been talking to myself for the last 5 minutes.

I storm out of my cave and demand that Netflix be turned off to free up some bandwidth.”That’s not gonna happen”, it couldn’t have been more plain and candid.

Working from home in a lockdown is trying to sail a ship through rough waters while trying to provide world-class housekeeping. You can’t do justice to any if you’re trying to do both.

Working from the comfort of your home was touted as the ultimate convenience for women especially. But working from home during the COVID lockdown is making me miserable. Why? Although I am more productive than I ever have been, I have this nagging guilt in me that I haven’t been able to step up as I should have.

When I hear the excited voices of my husband and daughter playing and chatting with each other, I have a voice in my head telling me that I am missing out. When I hear my mom tell me that I should do more in the kitchen without pushing it on the good soul that is my husband , I feel a pang of frustration at not being able to do so. When I hear my boss tell me that a lot is dependent on my work, I can’t help but feel that I must push myself just a little more.

Work is always in my mind. That, mixed with a feeling of fierce protection for my family makes me worried sick.

On the flip side of the world, my cousins and friends are leveraging on this time to meet up online, have indoor dates with their partners, take hobby classes and learn new skills. And I am stocking up on disinfectants and handwash soap.

I am in a role that requires me to be creative. And truth be told, for those who can manage their attention and time, this is a great chance to get those creative juices flowing. But the sweet birdsong, the quiet, the clean air and beautiful views, fail to make me inspired.

In marketing, you are always trying to answer the question, ‘what do people want to hear or see right now?’ The answer to that question these days is that people are grappling with fear and anxiety. They are trying to make sense of their future while preparing for the worst. They need reassurance, purpose, and perspective. They need to feel connected. (not just on zoom). That is my source of inspiration. The fact that I can be the channel of hope, connection, and reassurance through my communication. And that seems like a big responsibility.

But at my most vulnerable, there are often times when I feel resilient but hopeless, grateful but cheated all at the same time.

The entire world is sailing in virtually the same boat, why do I feel left out?

I am torn between working from and at home. And desperately trying to build a safe spot in this world besotted with fear and uncertainty.

While I should feel lucky to still have a job and a shelter that can keep me safe, I am also acutely aware that those aspects are no longer our insurance against the forces of nature. There is a sudden realization that we are but a small blip in the larger scheme of the universe.

Yet, I wake up every day, clean and dust as if I have never cleant before, work with a commitment that I have never felt before, all the while fighting the urge to envelop my family in a bear hug till this nightmare is over.

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