“Loneliness is far more lethal than   being a chain smoker”

Sonya Rehman

journalist & author

f there’s anything the past two years have taught us, it’s this: human connection is imperative for survival. And also this: loneliness is far more lethal than being a chain smoker.

Even though on a personal level, I feel I have made decent strides on my path to self-awareness, my place in the world, including what I want from my one, fragile existence, I still find myself in a state of flux. The existential crisis is real and it’s raw.

Not just for me, but also for my loved ones and those I’ve spoken to — there’s always a sense of anxiety looming in the background: what now, what’s next, are we emotionally and physically prepared for more shocks, more doom and gloom?

But then there’s the flipside; the part of the human psyche that has an unshakeable grip on hope and continues to spin gold even in the bleakest of circumstances.

Early last month, I met a childhood friend I hadn’t seen in years. I always felt both of us were very similar in how we approached life and work, and perhaps that’s one of the reasons why we had an affinity and at the same time repulsion towards each other. Meeting him over coffee, just weeks before he was to marry the love of his life, I was stunned at how similar the previous two years had been for us in terms of ‘doing the work,’ i.e., inner work.

As I looked at him speaking, while I sipped a slightly tepid latte, I saw a more self-assured man. His humility shone through, enhancing his handsome face. His eyes had a softer glow; he was finally viewing the world with less intensity and judgment. There was acceptance and empathy, even forgiveness.

While the world may not have gone back to ‘normal,’ and perhaps it never will — the pandemic’s damage has been done, the effects of social distancing will linger long. But there will always be a sense of courage and faith — that bursts forth like a deluge — when you realise that you have sailed through the roughest of storms and still made it through to witness another sunrise.

“I want us to seriously rethink

our day-to-day

activities”

Farah Zia

writer & HRCP director

riting, in general, tends to pontificate. Good writers try to avoid the impulse, for the sake of their own good. I have no such pretensions, to not pontificate that is.

The question I am being asked is: Whether I have resumed my pre-Covid day-to-day activities, without feeling anxious at all?

Let me address it directly. No, let me first ask if this is a valid question because I too have been thinking a lot about this going-back-to-my-day-to-day-activities, which seems like a middle-class privilege anyway, the choice of when to resume our ‘normal’ lives. We know how most people around us didn’t have the luxury to change what they were doing; many others who were rendered redundant have no day-jobs left to go back to.

Of course, as you look around, especially the crazy traffic, your city of choice consistently enjoying the status of being the world’s most polluted, life does seem to have returned to ‘normal’. The middle classes are happy because indoor dining in restaurants is back. The roadblocks outside cinemas are proof that they are packed. Air travel is costlier but at least it’s resumed. Honestly, it is this resumption of life that makes me more anxious and angry, helpless and sad.

I promised I will pontificate. So here’s more.

Let’s for a moment presume that the worst is over. Do we realise that we are the survivors of arguably the world’s worst pandemic ever? Imagine the sheer weight of this fact. The last two years have been the most unusual for the world in at least a hundred years. We will be able to tell our grandchildren stories of what it was like to live in those times, how we coped, the losses we suffered and so on.

The certainty of human life as we know it — human touch, hugs, friends — is back, and I am glad that it is. However, I am thinking of what shall we tell our grandchildren we learnt from the pandemic. Nothing, perhaps, except our reliance on medical science as our saviour, that made startling achievements no doubt.

Vaccines and medicines are meant to cure the disease. Let’s admit the pandemic took the shape it did because of the human race’s transgression against Nature. It happened because the one ecosystem of which we all, humans, animals, plants, are a part, was violated. That we have to preserve it, bring back the blue skies, let the environment breathe, is a lesson that is forgotten rather easily. Travel is necessary but a lot of it, including some within the city, is avoidable. Online businesses as new learning must be celebrated but Zoom meetings work as well and must continue.

The thing that I miss most is being able to look at the face of the person I am speaking to, without that compulsory mask. I wish we could reshape our ‘normal’ lives in a way that allows us all to breathe the air around us in as natural a way as possible. In short, I want us to seriously rethink our day-to-day activities.

“There are traces of

discomfort”

Zeeniya Mehdi

student, freelance journalist

ince the onset of Covid-19, everyone around the globe has adapted to a completely new lifestyle with minimal interaction with the outside world. With the announcement of the first lockdown, all of us were confined to the sanctuary of our homes. Like everyone else, I was too.

As vaccination rates rose and restrictions loosened, I started attending in-person classes at school — it felt odd considering online classes had become an uncomfortably numb routine. As restrictions further loosened, almost all of us returned to normal routines to an extent, if not completely. Despite the fact that I did initially feel reluctant to go out to malls and immerse myself in large crowds for fear of potential Covid exposure, I got used to it. Cinemas and other entertainment venues opened up, outdoor seating at restaurants moved indoors, and large gatherings have again become normal.

As the return to pre-pandemic life accelerates, some people have started to disregard safety protocols and diligent masking which may be a source of anxiety to some, including myself. The fraction of people that remains unvaccinated also contributes to that.

Even though we’re trying to get ourselves used to going back to our pre-Covid routines, there are traces of that discomfort. Though I personally missed attending concerts the most, the sudden rise of music festivals in Lahore is a cause of concern, given the absence of SOPs and no strict vaccination certificate checks.

I believe we’re trying to get back to the old normal way too fast, without accurately gauging the risks it brings us and how still more variants of the coronavirus can emerge. Some people still tend to deny that Covid exists or that no vaccine can completely protect them from the virus.

As we welcome 2022, the number of Omicron variant infections is rising. Let’s see where this one takes us.

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“Walk in the park will have

to wait for now”

Kamil Chima

filmmaker

ovid was a bad dream come to life; the lockdowns; the nervous, jittery scrounging for infection rates. There was only one thing to talk about for a good six months there. And yes, the days started repeating themselves, as if the whole world was stuck in the small town on Groundhog Day.

Looking back, having turned the proverbial corner, there are things about this last year that I will miss. Lahore really was greener, meeting friends in parks was literally refreshing, and the slashing down of the average wedding guest list made them all the more special.

Alas, it took one smoggy December to rid us of all three.

Everyone has that raspy smog-laden voice. The hordes of leather jackets and loud belt-buckles have returned to stand around outside Mall 1. And don’t get me started on the weddings. They’re back, louder, prouder and flashier.

And then there were the things I didn’t know I wanted, till Covid snatched them away.

Chief among them was the cinema house. After a few months of watching content on smaller screens, I wanted desperately to see the silver screen, and have my ears drummed into by some righteous Dolby Atmos surround sound. What I would have given then for a chance to waste an afternoon in some dark, cold theatre with a brownie and some tea for company. A substandard blockbuster for viewing, a simple tale of good versus evil.

Amidst the anxieties of reopening society, I’ll do well to salvage the peace and quiet found during lockdown. In the meantime, it seems there’s a busy wedding season ahead. That walk in the park will have to wait for now.

“We might be doing less with

the greatest treasure

we have — of life”

Fouad Bajwa

public policy analyst & entrepreneur

ife is no longer the same for me. Life before Covid was all about being busy with material goals and gains. I was always connected to what I thought was a global environment. Yet, I was more or less busy in my own bubble of a world made by my own goals and objectives that now I look back on and find meaningless.

As I began to lose people, who had been relatives, friends and acquaintances, and heard all those stories about the unfortunate souls that lost the battle for survival (against the infections), it left me thinking about my goals and what their outcome would have been, and also whether they were worth all the effort.

I was brave. I had to look after the ones I cared for at home and work. During the earlier and longer lockdowns, I was working simultaneously and selflessly, helping someone else’s startups grow while also serving among volunteers that had made every effort possible to equip our frontline health workers with the necessary PPE or build the technology to somehow counter the negative impacts of the pandemic on our society and economy. At some point during that time, I learnt that we might be doing less with the greatest treasure we have — of life. This life meant more than just all that, this life can just wither away and all that material we try to accumulate is just really nothing, maybe only a figment of our imagination.

Am I still anxious today? Is the news fuelling my anxiety? Have we really achieved the purpose of our existence, or is it just by chance that the pandemic did not take us away yet? Should I shake that person’s hand? Should I keep my mask on or should I take it off? What is going to happen next? If we resign from our jobs, what will happen? If I make that new startup, is it going to go anywhere?

Believe it or not, for the first time in my life I may have answers to some of those questions. I am no more uncertain, I am no more anxious, I am clear about what I want, what to strive for and what my inner calling is. It’s about helping each and every one of you. Even if eventually it’s just one person I am able to help, I will.

I am among those that do think that the past two years weren’t horrible, they were damn scary, uncertain but they brought us back to thinking what matters the most and how sad our earlier, material existence was.

Is this life still material, I do not know, but what I do know is that I am working to making other people’s lives easier. Those lockdown episodes made me take the decisions that I feel today were the best. I am doing exactly what I needed to do. My startup venture, my teaching, my sharing, my caring and all that will impact everyone that I come into contact with positivity, compassion, love and care. Every day is a beautiful blessing. It is definitely another chance to be used for someone, to ease someone’s pain, to care for someone or to help someone.

I am only anxious to be of help. By the way, we still have to do something about the smog. Any ideas?

“Now I teach with a

mask on”

Fatima Batool

educationist & CSS trainer

ovid-19 triggered in my mind health concerns that had never been there before. Being asthmatic, I was among the easiest targets for the pandemic, which kept me indoors and physically disconnected from my social and professional circle.

Apparently, in 2021, things became normal, but I can’t help feeling anxious when people came close physically. Now I abstain from shaking hands with people I meet and hugging my friends even if we meet after months. Last time when my mother hugged me, it didn’t seem normal. My mother says I have developed anxiety; I think I’m cautious. (I don’t think I’m in a state of denial.)

Fortunately, I didn’t catch Covid, but I did have an asthma attack, which kept me locked for a month or so. The worst came when my six-year-old told her teacher that I had Covid, and the teacher advised her to stay in a separate room. Her taking my coughing and wheezing as Covid and my acquaintances’ suspicion that I had Covid but was too ashamed to admit that made me unsure about my own medical condition. I assumed at the point that I might have the virus which had gone undetected, as the attack this year was the worst of my life (thanks actually to the lethal air in the City of Gardens).

Now I teach with a mask on. Imagine standing in a classroom of 100, straining my vocal chords to create sound that has to pass through a mask. (Yes, I’m getting a mic now, to save myself from unnecessary exhaustion.)

When I cough, people look at me suspiciously, to which I’m immune now, though I never forget to clarify that it’s not Covid.

Being a gourmand, I used to dine out a lot in my pre-Covid life; however, now being used to picking up food or ordering it online, I don’t feel comfortable when I’m asked to eat out. I rather pick food and eat it in the car with my family than sit in public surrounded by other families.

Wedding gatherings, especially buffets, don’t feel right. I avoid attending weddings as I can’t help disapproving people who show up without a mask to scatter germs wherever they go.

Lastly, the other day I went to a local bazaar where I used my shawl as a mask to cover up my nose and mouth. I met someone there who asked if I had started taking a veil. Of course, she wasn’t wearing a mask.