In the reminiscence of our parents' tales about the golden days of their youth, we reveled in the natural gifts bestowed upon us by Mother Nature. My community, deeply rooted in agriculture, witnessed the cultivation of diverse crops over time, while a tranquil river provided both domestic and farming water. These idyllic scenes painted a picture of harmony between man and nature. A few years ago, the prospect of development arrived with an industrious company setting up shop in our community. Entranced by promises of progress and prosperity, we welcomed them with open arms, hopeful that our community would flourish. However, this optimism soon gave way to a harsh reality. The company, while flourishing in its business endeavors, neglected to address the looming specter of climate change. Our once life-sustaining river became contaminated, our farmlands suffered, and the air we breathed turned foul. The impact of this environmental degradation became even more apparent during the COVID-19 lockdown, which temporarily halted the company's activities, offering a brief respite from the damages it had inflicted. The loss of our river, farmland, and pristine environment prompted a deep reflection on the devastating effects of climate change within our community. The need to raise awareness and spark conversations about this global crisis became paramount. In response, I embarked on a mission to share information within my local community, urging them to understand the dire consequences of our actions and advocate for sustainable practices. Nigeria, a nation blessed with abundant natural resources, grapples with the insidious aftermath of oil spillage, particularly evident in the beleaguered state of Rivers. This article delves into the profound impacts of oil spillage on Rivers State, with a focus on its deleterious effects on water resources and the exacerbation of climate change. Oil Spillage in Rivers State Rivers State, nestled in the Niger Delta, has long served as a bastion for oil exploration. However, the benefits derived from this resource have exacted a toll on the environment. Persistent oil spillages, caused by pipeline corrosion, equipment failures, and sabotage, have contaminated water bodies, jeopardizing aquatic life and the well-being of local populations. Impact on Water Quality The rivers and streams of Rivers State bear the brunt of oil spillages, introducing toxic compounds such as polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons (PAHs) and heavy metals. This contamination not only endangers aquatic ecosystems but also compromises the quality of drinking water for local communities. Residents face heightened health risks, ranging from gastrointestinal issues to chronic diseases, as a result of exposure to polluted water. Climate Change and the Ripple Effect The repercussions of oil spillage extend beyond immediate pollution, contributing significantly to climate change. Greenhouse gases released during oil extraction worsen global warming, while the disruption of local ecosystems intensifies climate-related events like floods and storms. In Rivers State, the alteration of water bodies exacerbates the vulnerability of wetlands and mangrove forests, vital for climate resilience. Community Perspectives and Advocacy Communities in Rivers State are not passive victims; residents, activists, and NGOs actively champion stricter regulations, accountability, and sustainable practices in the oil industry. Efforts to clean and restore water bodies are underway, but the scale of the issue necessitates long-term strategies to prevent further environmental degradation. Conclusion The impact of oil spillage on climate change and water resources in Rivers State underscores the interconnectedness of environmental health, human well-being, and sustainable development. Urgent, coordinated efforts are imperative to address the root causes of oil spills, implement effective cleanup measures, and promote sustainable practices in the oil industry. The global community must stand in solidarity to support the quest for environmental justice in Rivers State, ensuring access to clean water and a future where the devastating effects of oil spillage are minimized, if not eradicated.
Children are the most affected by war. In a war-torn zone, the trauma children undergo will live with them until the day they die. The trauma induced is deep-rooted and healing from the effects of war is never easy or most often than not, out of the question. Ultimately, the consequences of war related trauma will require precautionary measures as cure is never attainable. Children who has survived the worst of wars will need special attention and aid. Imagine hearing the bomb sirens or gunshots or worse, watch a building crumble right before your eyes. Imagine watching people killed or dying, or writhing in pain from wounds. The pain of the whole situation will numb a young mind to silence. I don't think these children will ever be able to interact amicably with another human after witnessing the horrors of war. How do we treat children who has seen the worst of wars and suffered as a consequence? First, we must accept that children of war are mentally affected by the situation they are thrust into. The psychological effects are massive and often these children withdraw into their own shell due to the frightening situation. Their need to explain even to themselves the results of war can have dire consequences in their actions towards those they love. They become hateful and distrusting of the world around them. In order to help them overcome the difficult transition to lead a normal life as best as they can, the caregivers must be patient with their behavioral patterns. A psychiatrist treating the child will tell you how difficult it is to get them to speak about their trauma. Instead of coming out with their fears, they often hide their feelings of insecurities and fright and try to avoid human connection. They will find it hard to interact with outsiders with the exception of their family members. Often, in the long run, the children blame their elders and family members for the trauma of war they face. They will want someone to blame themselves. Why the war? Effective treatments like trauma-focused cognitive behavioral therapies and narrative exposure therapy are available, however, family support will ultimately play a crucial role in helping children recover fully or to the extent that they can forget for a while. Children need love and a good environment to nurture their growth and look forward to a full life. It is an abhorrence to have them experience war and live to regret the chances they have missed to grow out their childhood and to understand the horrific way their lives have unfolded. At least for the love of a child, wars should end and peaceful negotiations given preference. No matter what it takes, choose peace against war. We wouldn't want to partake in ruining the lives of our children to gloat over the power of being victorious, now do we? Wars won are never a victory at the expense of even one child. The End. (This essay was first accepted for publication in the December'23 online issue by Welter@University of Baltimore. https://blogs.ubalt.edu/welter/digital-lit-current-issue)
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I used to have a friend who was from another country. I had never seen him in person but, I think, we used to be good friends. I learnt many from him and he always gave me good advice. Because of my marriage I had to delete my facebook account and we are not friends anymore. Now my only friend and adviser is my husband. Alloh never leaves us alone! Allah knows better what is good or bad for us! Don't care and take everything easy! Live your best life!
We beg for our cries to be heard We cry for the unsettling storm inside us We adjure for the storm to leave, unharmed For our beat to not be disrupted The human conflict we call pain To be prevented in all scenarios But then again, it narrates a story People in pain are people who write With the pain subsiding, We lose a bulk of stories Is that a world we sought for? This might be the fifth poem I wrote today. The five poems have no relevance to each other. The first is about the moon, the second is about sunset, the third is a satire based on one of Shakespeare's sonnets, the fourth on vision, and the fifth is about pain. What I find ridiculing is the number of poems I wrote since the pandemic as I gave up on writing. And the cherry on top? I was repulsed by the idea of taking on literature. You ask why? Simple, it just felt too monotonous and gloomy. I found it hard to sympathize with it. Once I read The Picture Of Dorian Gray, I straight up went like, "no way this is real." With the extensive poetry and implied erotica, I barely understood half of it. But the writing style had me captivated. I still opined with the fact that writers need a big hug and be a bit optimistic. Now coming from a fellow pessimist, I get why they aren't on the bright side of life. Being locked in a dark room feels suffocating and frightening. Even if the atmosphere is vast, it still feels like the oxygen supply is cut off and soon you would be left with nothing. That is how the pandemic felt. It was around my transition age and everything felt so frustrating, so dull. At a certain point, I wanted to give up and it felt as if nothing is worth living for. Life became like a spiral abyss with no escape gate. Just like the chapters of a book, the plot keeps getting better and better right? But once the protagonist starts pitying himself, life becomes an endless nightmare where everything comes to a pause. Reflecting on past mistakes and never moving from them made me adopt a façade that is not me. My present life is a like a house of cards- a house that might break with the slightest gush of wind blowing over it. It feels like I'm there even though I'm not. Even the slightest of things hurt me and I'm left numb. Sometimes I pretend to not care and just go with the flow. I once told one of my friends, ‘you know it wouldn't hurt me if any of you leave me.' Was I lying? No. As someone who everyone left, I expect the worse and nothing more. It is better to assume the worse than to have your expectations shattered. Ever since I was young, I struggled with feelings. I never had a potential lover neither did I feel anything. Yet I pretended to blend with them. Little did I know it would affect me so much. Almost everyone gave up on me including my parents, after all, I'm the embodiment of disappointment. An additional point, I keep making a fool out of myself all the time. I feel empty most of the time, a feeling I cannot explain. Yet I keep fighting but for what? Why am I trying so hard when everyone has turned their backs on me? Why am I trying when I have no reason to do so? I cannot quite remember the last time I was happy. That is where writing comes into play. It is not much of a hassle, just take a pen and paper and let your hands move. The art of writing is not understood by many but once you let the pen flow, a stream of words appears and your mind becomes active as ever. It's like an adrenaline rush for me- writing until your fingers are numb, the pain in your fingertips feels like you have accomplished something. Tragedy prevails in everyone's life. No matter how much we hide from the demons, staying in the light of the day, we are bound to face them once the night dawns upon us. When we practically vent out to someone, they listen and nod. But when one writes, the secrets are stored. One may look at it after a while and realize the progress they have made over time being and that it something to be proud of. Reading No Longer Human, I realized that Yozo, the protagonist tells us about his life filled with shame. He tried his best to be a human and did everything to act what we call ‘normal'. But his life was short-lived as he met the same fate as the author of the book- Osamu Dazai. Writing is not only for scribbling or writing stories but also portraying yourself in a subtle manner, something that Oscar did to Dorian, drawing his sinful life that led to his demise like Dorian. For a story to be successful, tragedy should be written in its utmost element. A lot of us have many stories to share. Especially after the pandemic that morphed everyone's life into someone they aren't. Someone they never wanted to be. Writing is not any form of rocket science. It is art, words combined to form emotions, something everyone can try. Exploring one's different side won't kill, will it?
Plan 1. The plague that shook the whole world 2. The period of Covid-19 3.Work has been done during the pandemic The whole world is full of advanced technology and medicine, and at that time, when it has reached its peak, an invisible plague suddenly captured the whole world. These days have been left in people's minds as a historical event. For a while, medicine and advanced technology failed to do so. The plague was named Covid 19. His homeland was China, and it quickly spread to other countries, causing panic. The plague soon reached to our country too. Then, the news about disease began to cause panic among the people. It was an unforgettable day for the whole world and for Uzbekistan as well. The whole world, including Uzbekistan, had to declare a pandemic to prevent the disease from its spreading quickly and by March 16, 2020 schools, kindergardens, stadiums were closed entirely for two years, as a result of lockdown. The goal of the quarantine was to protect the country from spreading of COVID-19 until a vaccine was found. Our people are always supportive and kind. The actions during the pandemic can be a good proof to the mentioned above statement. When the majority of people were out of work, others helped to satisfy their needs. In other countries people were intimidated to get vaccines for high amounts of money, whilst our country provided free cure for residents. Also Uzbekistan create a number of conditions to us e.g students and do not let us to stop studying. Thanks to some measures taken by our country, we were able to overcome this plague. I'm so proud of living there, in loving country.
Pradip Raut is an Nepalese Singer, musician and actor. He was bron on 18 October 2004 in the Udayapur district of Province No.1 He lives with his family in Udayapur Katari. Pradip Raut is from the Katari, Maruwakhola. Pradip Raut is also Director. Filmy Carrer: Pradip Raut has worked on the actor's work in the short movie- "Hamro Maruwakhola" Published "Dhamilo Pani" in 2021. Other Work : Pradip Raut is also the Nepalese Director. Hight 5 foot 5 inch Born 18th October 2004 (age 17) Occupation: Singer and actor Years active 2022- present Know for Singer/Musician and director Religion Nepal Family Pradip Raut live with his father and mother in Udayapur Katari Maruwakhola. Pradip has one sister. She was married she live in Kathmandu with his husband. Father Name - Tilak Bahadur Raut Mother Name - Rukmadi Raut Sister Name - Yesoda Raut
Being grateful is hard. Living through the past twenty months, living full stop, is just... A lot. And at the same time nothing. Unemployment. Words like inflation, depression, deficit, budget cuts, pulling up your boot straps... teaching a man to fish. All of these things that add up to me basically never leaving my dads house like. Ever. Boredom is the absolute worst. When nothing happens. When days pass spent bundled in blankets surrounded by sweet wrappers with the sound of the latest hit Netflix show buzzing in my ears as my eyes flicker shut. Weeks can pass like this. It can be hard to stay grounded. It can be really hard sometimes to remember that there is still a lot of good. And a lot to be grateful for. I did a positive psychology course a couple of years ago in my quest to find out what it is, if anything, that I might be interested in.(Historically I've struggled with finding direction a lot.) One of my main takeaways from the course was to practice being grateful for stuff. To sit down at the end of each day and reflect on something I feel good about. Something that fills me with a sense of gratitude and well being. And to write it out. The writing part is important. There's something about holding the pen in your hand, letting the feelings out through the ink and pen scratchings. I don't do that. What I do is every now and again when I feel. Well... Pissed is probably the right word for it. Fuming would also do. When I'm feeling bad and I'm aware enough to actually do something about it instead of watching more TV I'll write a list. I'll head it 'gratitude list' and I'll write twenty or thirty things that are good about my life. And the pen doesn't even get a look anymore. It's all on a notepad on my phone. And it's rushed. (Sure putting that positive psychology knowhow to work.) when I'm struggling sometimes it might start off with something like 'Have roof over my head' and work my way out to other things more personal to me. My dad's nearly always on there, since he was diagnosed with cancer at the end of last year. A lot of the time there's ice cream. Here is the list I wrote today, to keep me grounded. Gratitude list 20/10/2021: 1.Never having to share my bedroom 2.Having privacy/space when I want it 3.Having my own bookcase (with nearly 100 books) 4.Always having books in the house growing up 5.Knowing how to read 6.Being read to by my parents when I was a kid 7.Having a good head on my shoulders 8.Getting to spend quality time with my dad and brother today 9.Having Ice cream in the freezer 10.Having savings 11.Having spare cash 12.The support my dad has recieved since being diagnosed 13.Mum checking up on me 14.How attracted my fiancee is to me 15.My time at CCAD 16.Getting this time with dad 17.My hair 18.The sparrows that live in the roof nextdoor. Bit of an eclectic one today (and there's that ice cream as predicted) and I fell short of the twenty I usually manage, but these are the things that got me through today. And some of them might sound silly but they matter to me. Reading is a big one. My life has always had stories in it. I'm in love with fiction. When I was a teenager I could devour whole books in a day. Get lost somewhere I actually want to be lost in. I fell out of love with reading for a while there, a period of four or five years, starting when I went to art college. I would try to read and I would struggle though ten pages or so before putting the book down. It just wasn't happening for me. I am so grateful that I have been able to find my way back to fiction and that I was led there in the first place when I was small. Books have been a good friend throughout the pandemic. My current companion is Good Omens (one I was read as a kid.My mum has good taste in stories) and it's as good as the first time I read it. Wracking my brains for something, even something small, that gets me through the day gets me though the day. And there have been so many days that have been hard to get through lately. It doesn't feel like it will end. But as long as there's sunshine, cute animal videos and £1 bars of chocolate I will have something to smile about, even if that smile is smaller some days than others. And I can carry them around in my pocket too and look them up on my phone whenever I need reminding that life isn't too bad, even when it's really bad.
It was good in 2019! The day when the first glimpse of this terrible news came, no one had judged, that how dangerous this was going to be till today. This story, is my story, about what was pandemic for me and what I had to go through. It was November 2019, I was working at my job. They spoke about the news that whether it could spread or not. I had just joined the gym, so even my gym trainer told me about this new disease named, “Corona.” I always wanted to make something huge in my life, and my job wouldn't let me do it. Because I had some issues at my job, I had given a resignation letter in March. A few days later, the cases in the whole of India started touching the peak of the sick crowd; due to the outburst, Prime Minister ordered for the complete lockdown in the whole country after two days of the peak. With country lockdown and Corona disease, I felt fallen into a pit from where I lost all the hopes of coming out. I found it difficult to ask my boss to ignore my notice period and grant my resignation because the company were losing their clients due to inefficiency in the pandemic. Out of humanity, I thought to support the company. There was a curfew in the whole country. A city like Mumbai was silent for the first time in ages. Streets that were barking with traffic and horns were now desolated. Unfortunately, the company wasn't able to pay us our desired salary. We got paid even lower than half of our salaries. I sat with a fraught face, wondering what to do next. I motivated myself with pragmatism. Finally, I took a firm decision. “Sir! As per my resignation notice period, please allow me to leave this job. I cannot work with low salary.” Finally, became jobless with a brave mind to fight another battle again. I started laying down the pointers which prominently make us an ideal progressor. Our persona becomes the first impression that headways our career. I worked to improvise my personality, communication and gesturing attitude. It took a while, but that was my big leap after which I saw myself as completely novel. When the mirror spoke for me, I re-joined the baby footsteps who loved writing. I recollected a loft story abandoned many years ago from my laptop. After few months, I started my own business and wrote more. Soon, I published my first novel. It took uncountable efforts to work in the lockdown period. Along with work pressure, came the scary news that said one thing, "the city is in danger." Live images of dying people, misery in the hospitals and the daily count of new COVID cases captured the minds. But belief was the only word that kept me growing, and aplomb was the only key to perform far better from my job in my business. I started hiring people, but I never quit being a learner. Someone said it true, "We never know what we are capable of, unless we are forced in a critical condition with no option, but to fight." Gradually, I became the author of three novels. My family felt noble. Pandemic is tough! But all we need to do is survive. We need to decide, whether we want to survive by bringing the solution to problems or we want to survive by crying over the problems. Think the best, and leave the rest!
A few days ago, I was writing a story. A story about a boy. A boy, whose best friends were agony, despair and grief. A boy, whose behavior would often be called “weird”. People would not accept his idiosyncrasies; they would instead find it better to ridicule him and his lack of social skills. His childhood did not deserve to be called a childhood at all. I felt a connection to that story. It was remarkably relatable. Although even I had had very few friends, I had had a lot of pleasant escapades too. Yet, I scraped off that idea and tore my page into a million pieces. I was about to throw them all in the bin when one of the smaller ones caught my attention, and all of a sudden, I was nostalgic. 25th May 2015. It was evening. I was sitting on the couch of my Meemaw's house, reading a book, and I was beaming with delight. After all, my birthday was just around the corner! All of a sudden, I felt an itch in my right ear. Lazy as I was, I did not want to get up and use an earbud. But I was worried about my hygiene too. I couldn't imagine using my own finger to remove my earwax. So, I tore off a bit of paper from the last page, and put it in my ear. As funny as it sounds, it really was effective in removing that itch. The problem arose when I started to enjoy a bit too much. I was holding it with the tip of my finger and inserted it far too deep; and then, I lost my grip. The paper got stuck inside. I panicked. I did not want my parents or my grandparents to find out about my stupidity, so I got up and rushed to get that earbud. Unfortunately, I did not realize that the earbud would not remove that paper; rather it would push it even further inside. I just kept hoping for the paper to attach to the earbud with adhesion, which was practically impossible. The paper, even after this struggle session, was still lodged inside. I decided to forget about this incident and acted normally that night. The next morning however, while eating my breakfast, I felt a searing pain in my ear. I could no longer afford to keep this incident a secret. I confessed everything to my parents. They were shocked at my idiocy; but they knew they had to get my ear checked. Unfortunately, most of the ENT specialists whom we knew about were closed that day. We spent the next 2 hours surfing the internet, but weren't able to find even a single doctor close to us. That was when my mom recalled that she had once been to a doctor, who used to keep his clinic open all year long. “Maybe to earn more?” I deliberated with myself. We got into our car and drove to him. His clinic was present in a really secluded area. He did not have an assistant, and it became obvious to us that he had not had patients in a while when we saw him playing candy crush on his phone in his working hours. He first looked into my ear with a concave mirror and a torch. He could not spot any piece of paper, and was going to conclude that it might have fallen out; when I told him about my pain. That was when I saw him turn serious. He looked more carefully, and this time, he spotted it. He requested my parents to leave us alone. He might've guessed that the love of my parents for me had made them astonishingly soft-hearted, so they might not be able to see me cry. When they left, he warned “Son, you will feel a slight pain in your ear. But your parents told me that you are a brave boy. Once I take that paper ball out, you will be good to go”. I nodded in approval. He put his sharp instrument in my ear. That searing pain returned to me. I wondered why he had not given me any anesthetic. The deeper he went, the more it hurt. It was like having a hundred wasps sting me in a very small periphery for a very long time. I must've gotten lost in my own thoughts, because I remained motionless even after he had taken out the paper from my ear. It was only when he shook me that I came back to my senses. He pointed his finger towards that dirty nasty paper covered with my disgusting earwax. I went outside and saw my parents waiting anxiously. “The operation was successful!”, I exclaimed with delight. My voice startled them. They turned around, only for me to witness my dad gasp in shock and my mom choke a sob. I innocently asked “Why are you crying mom?”, but before she could answer, I felt a drop fall on my neck. “Is my ear bleeding?” Her sudden surge of tears answered my question. While walking towards the bin, I wondered if I had partially lost my hearing. This was one question whose answer I did not want to know. My introspection was interrupted by my mom's voice, “Son, which girl are you dreaming about?” Embarrassed, I replied, “I am not dreaming about any girl mom!” “Then go and do something productive. And remember, don't start thinking about girls again!” We chuckled.
I had yet to hear about some virus in March when it had already been murdering the thousands of lives of innocent people. I guess what they say about Friday the 13th is true because it just so happened to be Friday the 13th. The day it all went down. The day my country shut down. It was quite literally D-Day for all of us. Schools closed, businesses closed, and most importantly, my life felt like it had approached a closed door. Every day for the last 260 days since Friday the 13th, I have been at home. Alone. With the same people. Every single day. Trapped inside. With all of this alone time, I have accomplished one thing. I have managed to grow as a person and develop myself to be the best I can be. I have struggled with mental health greatly over the last decade and a half of my life, and through quarantine, I have allowed myself to rethink my life.
'"BASICS OF SOUTH AMERICAN MONSOON TIME SCALE are proposed&designed by me in 1991 to study the South American monsoon&it's weather problems&natural calamities in advance.Find it's details in all websites/searchengines by searching its name SOUTH AMERICAN MONSOON TIME SCALE BY GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI or get by sending your email to me. I urge the world scientists to design&prepare, establish&implement and conduct further researches&developments on this scale and break the mysteries of the South American monsoon. If you want to design&establish the scale, printout the basic empty scales enclosed at the end article and prepare this scale yourself. If you still have trouble in preparing this scale, contact me at my email and take my assistance.Kindly recognize me as the Inventor of South American Monsoon Time Scale by making references in your research papers in lieu of considering my immense efforts&sacrifices I have did for it and my quest to establish&implement South American Monsoon Time Scale to serve the people GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI girlapati@aol.com
The world around us collapses, hard to watch it without a movement. This little thing took all the great things, taking peace, taking the Tranquility, He took love from above the earth, to feed him hungry soil The pain that comes out of the windows of the houses is no longer Endurable Slave silence cross-predictable, does not stop the red signage, there is no one crossing the street .. Noise and screaming trip to another place .. Where did he go? In the middle of hospitals, screaming and stacking, Breathlessness came out with difficulty, tired of trying This little thing did not know that children should be happy but he choose them too, did not know that older people love to be remain among they lovers, and he takes them from their sofas houses, did not tell him anyone that young people have big dreams, They are trying to reach it, And he takes them before they arrive. My friend mother's died and no one come to the Solace but her, she told me that when her father died, the strangers who were walking next to the house come .. When her father died and he has a name, her mom become one of the numbers، she can not deposited her without distance, Do not Treat her wound. There is no longer a importance to the feelings of the loss, anyone can't stop to touch his grief, fearing to be moved by the infection .. I stand on the edge of the world .. I do not know that it would be terminated but if that happened I want to fall first. Because i can not seeing that destruction.
This year, we all are facing something we didn't even think about. A very unnamed and destructive living character came into existence this year. The whole world has faced its destruction and named it as CORONA virus emerged from China and did a world tour without having any visa and passport. The impact of this virus is irredeemable. And this virus bound us to live in home quarantine. This situation made us realize a need of proper lockdown and home quarantine system. From here, my story of home quarantine begins- In INDIA, due to this virus a very prolonged lockdown started. My quarantine life was also like everyone else's just to stay at home, do nothing and pass my time. Initially, I was quite happy that for some days I didn't have to go anywhere. I was very excited because I had just completed my 10th exam and was indeed free from studies. I started my first day of lockdown or home quarantine with waking up late in the morning, getting fresh and having my breakfast. I passed my day watching Netflix movies or series, playing online games, listening music and having fun. I passed two or three more days like that but after that my boring passage of time started because I was getting fed up with my daily routines. There is a phrase in hindi “Khali dimag saitaan ka ghar” in English it means “Empty mind devil's house” according to this phrase, Some mischievous work occurred in my brain and we prepared to make Pani puri an Indian street dish but that enraged my mom a lot because of the mess we made. After that I was not allowed to enter in the kitchen. I was left with two bedrooms, a small corridor and bathroom where I could roam. At first, I was thinking about a few days of lockdown but it turned into few months of lockdown. I actually passed about two and a half months staying at home. We made a lot of efforts to go to our hometown and finally we got pass to move for about 3 hours amid the situation out there and moved to our hometown for about a month. I really enjoyed a lot with my three cousin brothers and my brother. We learnt how to make Idli sambhar a south Indian dish with the help of youtube and we were quiet successful because that was so delicious. We used to watch a lot of movies like series of Harry Potter, Zero dark thirty, The mask and many more. After so many years, I watched horror movies one after another. I watched Amityville house and The possession of Hannah grace but I didn't find it that much scaring but the fact is I watched about half part of the movie closing my eye. But the next day, I watched The conjuring and I was very scared the whole day. That night, I got scared when my brother waved his blanket over me because only that ghost look was moving in my head. But you can say I am that much stubborn that instead of all that scary feeling I watched Conjuring 2 the next day. And that look of ghost Valak haunted me for weeks and I have once again decided not to watch horror movies. Again, after a month or so we moved to our place and lived about two more weeks in home quarantine. And I realized that my father has very much patience because no one can believe that he passed his whole lockdown watching Corona updates on news. I believe that we should know what is going on in the world but that much would drive someone insane but hats off for my father. But this lockdown had some positive impact on environment. Nature of many parts of India improved because we were not going out that proves that we have spoiled our nature and we are the one who is facing its consequences. Instead of positive I noticed psychology of most of the Indians. I have mentioned myself stubborn above but I think I am not that much because people in India were again and again breaking lockdown and our police officers had to make efforts to make them stay at home. It proves whether the most of the people are not aware of the situation or they want to spread this virus. After that much attempt the commencement of Unlock 1 announced. But ending of lockdown does not mean that corona has stopped its spreading. Instead of unlock we are getting out when it is necessary because we are the only ones who can keep our immunity strong and be safe. Here comes the end of my story with the pray that our world will get rid of this problem very soon and we will again be free to visit any place we want instead of fear of corona spreading. And god will support us with every possible ways.
As usual with days preciding the coming of the rain, the weather was cold and for lack of a better word, damp. I've always been a fan of the raining season, but this time, I wasn't. Not only because it seemed to interfere whenever I had something important to do; typical, but because it brought with it symptoms of my mortal enemy - malaria. I consider myself a healthy and strong girl and on a normal day, would be happy to brag to anyone of my prowess and ability to remain so all year round. Except when visited by this dreaded sickness which has proven to be the only one to bring me to my knees and seek my mothers breast at my middle 20's. It starts with an inability to get out of bed and general body weakness but like I said, I'm strong! So I force myself out of bed. Within the day or the next morning, I'm hit with an intense neck pain , sometimes, the painful clogging of my throat which advances to a raging cough and catarrh then finishes off with a loss of appetite. The same way malaria comes knocking at my health, is the same way it leaves. Closing the door with an even more furious cough and catarrh. Usually, everyone is sympathetic during this period and even quicker to offer home remedies but this time was different and I learnt the hard way. You see, during that period, an even more dreaded disease; corona virus was on the rampage and while many Nigerians where adamant it doesn't exist and was a ruse created by the 'powers that be,' many of them where as scared as chicks without their mother hen. I initially was among the former but I wasn't scared, remember, I am strong! And even better, my father who we fondly call baba lawo because of his tinkering with natural herbs was out to the rescue. Right from the moment we got whisp of the pandemic, he made a concoction of ginger, lemon, garlic and honey long before the rumor of its preventive capabilities. We were also armed with our nose guards and the home made hand sanitizer my father was kind to make. I got to the office where I was an intern and while educating different skeptics on the danger and symptoms of the virus, malaria which had just begun closing its door decided to raise it ugly head and I began coughing profusely. Mind you, many had heard coughing was a symptom and forgetting my condition, I had been too eager to share this. My embarrassment knew no bound when some of the ladies subtly moved away from me and the manager asked me in not too many words " to go home as many of them still had kids and weren't ready to die yet." My mouth dropped, I was offended. I couldn't believe these people thought the virus capable of imprisoning a gallant lass like me, how naive I was. I stood my ground and refused to return home. Not only because I was embarrassed and everyone was waiting for my response but also because I knew I was just recovering from malaria and wasn't a danger. If you know anything about cough, you'd know it could be quite vindictive and annoying. Many days later, when I thought to be done with anything related to those symptoms, I attended a church program. A few days shy to the lockdown in Abuja, Nigeria and sat beside a handsome young man. Eager to learn, the hall quieted down and everyone was paying rapt attention. Then started this low, persistent tingle in my throat. I tried to push it down, I really did. Clenching my teeth and even holding my breathe but nothing helped and before I realized, I was coughing up a storm. My throat aching and chest heaving. I felt like transforming into an ant and crawling away. I coughed through out the meeting and though I wanted to step out, I sat in the middle of my row and was too embarrassed to stand, settling for melting into my seat. Not only because I was obviously disturbing the meeting, but because the young handsome man was so scared, he might have soiled his pants. He couldn't inch way from me faster and if he had the ability, would have disappeared. Not that I blame him, life is precious. We silently had to deal with seating awkwardly beside each other till the meeting ended and he jumped up faster than a kangaroo without so much as a "bless you." That day, I learnt a big lesson. Something that we've all heard but never paid attention to. Discrimination kills faster than any disease. I knew I wasn't hosting the virus but I never felt so uncomfortable and unclean like that evening in the church. Of course, there is an inherent need to protect ourselves and our families from this pandemic but we need to also remember to be kind even to those who may have lost the battle. Love and kindness are truly the greatest cure to everything on earth.