35: What’s productivity got to do with it?

It will soon be one year since the lockdown began but I am still on my first diary. Let me explain. When the world shut down due to the pandemic, time opened up. Work moved online and then, for me, like for many others in the gig economy, it trickled down. Life took on a routine of clean, cook, exercise, repeat. Writing was to feature big time in this loop. Wasn’t I always telling myself that I only need regular, uninterrupted, guilt-free chunks of time at my disposal? Wasn’t it what I needed to become a slick, lean, mean writing machine, using up one diary after another, with empty bottles of ink stacking up on the windowsill as the fountain pen made its scratchy mark on blot-free paper?

The reality was less flamboyant, more prosaic. I’d wake up before sunrise and finish exercising as the sun inched up. I then prepared breakfast and lunch at one go – dinner was the partner’s responsibility – with whatever ingredients we could source. This was especially true in the early days of the lockdown when supplies were short. We were, after all, in lockdown in the Covid-19 capital of India. A few hours of work, keeping in touch with family and friends, reading news updates from around the world and just like that, the day was over.

I was acutely aware of being surrounded by lockdown productivity. Writers and activists wrote flourishing essays on the consequences of the social and economic effects of lockdown. Filmmakers made films of their lived experience during the pandemic. Publishing houses e-released a book or two each, online news portals started book reading sessions. Cinematographer John Deakins began a podcast series that continues till date.

I must admit that I did put pen to paper. It was hard not too, with all that was happening around me. The virus had a global reach but for those it did not infect, its effect was as varied as day and night. While some of us could sit in the safety of our homes and post our culinary experiments on social media, the struggle was of a very different kind for those who lost their jobs, homes and had to walk hundreds of kilometers to reach home. This is not to take away from every individual’s personal struggle to deal with this unprecedented time, but the inequality was striking.  

But my outpourings were minimal. In fact, infinitesimal. And I wondered what this said about me. In my mind I am ambitious, but in reality, if I make it through the day in good physical and emotional health, in the company of loved ones, then I can hopefully sleep well at night, right? Let me flesh out this thought. After all, there are some blank diaries on my bookshelf waiting for their turn.

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