I wake up with the sunlight hitting my face, the curtains not doing their bit to keep the rays out. I squint my eyes open, it's bright outside, almost summer, almost.

The tv is still playing in the background, talking about numbers, about people, hospital beds, oxygen, and masks.

Sighing deeply, my fingers crawl up to my face, caressing my cheeks, my cracked lips. my hands trace the trail marks left by the dried-up tears. I let out a defeated sigh and walk up to the bathroom. my hands are doing their usual morning chore, picking the brush up, toothpaste, and brushing the teeth, but it doesn't feel like I’m doing it. it feels foreign, almost alien.

My hands splash water on my dry face. the water is cold, most definitely it is, but I don't feel it. I head towards the shower. once again, my hands are doing their thing, stripping clothes off of my body, on the floor. I stand under the cold running water. nothing. still nothing.

I stand under the shower for a while. blue dye washing off of my hair paints the floor blue. I look down, chipped black nail paint and swollen feet, but no pain.

I come out of the bath, wear the same clothing and go back to the couch where the tv is still on. it has almost become like white noise now, the news. same thing every day; numbers, masks, cases, deaths. same cycle.

My eyes glance over to the date on my phone screen; “12th February 2021” it reads. one and a half years. it's been a year and a half since I last went to my city, my family. my mind drifts again. family. I last saw them in 2019, they came to drop me off at the airport before I left for college.

Mom gave me a separate luggage full of Bengali sweets so that I don't miss them here in London. I glance over at the small table near the refrigerator, three boxes still lay there, never opened. I sense a string of wetness on my cheeks but I don't feel it, so I wipe it off absent-mindedly. dad made us reach the airport 3 hours before the boarding time because he assumed I wouldn't be able to carry all the extra luggage alone.

My phone vibrates, “you have a delivery” the message displays. i glance over at the door for a

A few seconds, then go back to staring at the tv screen.

“Government of India is working on allowing international flights to land and get Indians across the world back to their home country…” the voice plays in the background. I look at the packed suitcase near the table, the one I had ready for whenever I could leave amidst this chaos of the virus.

“So, what are you sending me now that you're there? I want that-” “nothing, I’m sending you nothing”, I scream back at Chitra, my sister, on the video call. “when are you coming, beta? papa says the visa might take long.” Mom says in a low voice, her face now on the screen. “I am trying maa, I just came home. the lockdown is very strict here.'' I try to explain. I hear a bark in the background, then another, and then a series that doesn't stop until the originator of the sound jumps on the screen. “oreo !” I squeal at the display. oreo, our little pup, wagging his tail in excitement, still barking…

My hand reaches to wipe my face, which is now almost fully wet. I pick myself up and head over to the kitchen. my hand takes an apple and I bite into it.

“Don't eat only useless stuff there, bacon and eggs and all, dal-chawal has the best nutrients, beta”, mom advises on the call, “maa please, I am 21, I can decide what to eat, but you tell dad not to forget taking his supplements.” it has been only a day since I came here but it's like I never left, my mind thinks.

I look at the blank phone screen, the delivery message still shows in the notification center. I decide to check. Getting up, and putting my mask on, I walk to the door and open it. no one. of course. there is no one outside. I give an emotionless chuckle to myself, almost like I knew this would happen. my eyes catch a glimpse of something on the floor right before I close the door. a letter. a letter?

Sanitizing my hands, I pick it up with shaky fingers. I walk inside, shutting the door behind me. I sit on the floor, opening the letter, mask still on, apple rolled away on the carpet.

“Beta…” it read. I immediately felt a painful pang in my chest. like a truck hit me on my ribs. my head was starting to feel light, dizzy. I had to hold onto the couch to keep myself straight. suddenly I felt the weather. cold. shivering cold.

“We hope to see you soon when everything gets better, I know it's difficult for you there alone, but please, my strong bachha, take care. don't worry much about us, we will soon be fine, up and running in the household. my plants are waiting for me back at home, your mom will probably lose a brain cell if she doesn't get to clean the house herself soon. chitra and oreo have been sent to your maasi’s place, she hasn't contacted the virus and hopefully won't. but you, my darling, stay safe. once the lockdown eases, I know you will be here. eat food on time your mom asked me to write this- and keep things clean. take the vaccination as soon as it comes out. don't overwork yourself. and say hi to Jay from us. tell him we know all about him. (what? you thought your parents wouldn't know about the only guy you've ever told us about ?) anyway, I know you think that you are a grown-up lady now, but beta, you will always be our little princess. we love you.”

I let out a huge cry. a scream. I screamed so loud as if I had held it in for long, I screamed till I couldn't anymore, tears falling like a dam set free. I clutch onto the letter, even tighter, almost tearing it up. I look back at the piece of paper, the end of the letter.

“If you get this letter, you know what it means. your mom and I lived a long and happy married life, blessed with kids like you and Chitra, but we couldn't defeat the virus, my child, we apologise for that. we only regret not being able to meet you, but we didn't want you to worry and make hasty decisions from there. we wanted you to stay strong, for Chitra, for yourself. we wish you a successful life, beta. we will look after you from up there.

Lots of love and aashirwaad, your maa and paa,

12th January 2021”

“...And with the lockdown easing, people from other countries can now finally fly back to India, confirms the Indian government.”

.    .    .

PS: The parts written in italics are flashbacks of past events. everything else is in the present time, including the letter.