Saying that lockdown drove many nuts, having had to stay with their families for nearly 3-4 months straight would undoubtedly be an understatement. It was no different for me, but yet, it was quite the contrary. That lockdown period nurtured a stronger sense of family bonding, just in a different way. My family was a simple, middle-upper class one. Dad thought it was time for the home to have a makeover before Mum gives birth to my brother in a few months time. Being 11, I was unperturbed by everything. At that point, Covid was still at its beginning stage and everyone brushed it off like a common flu. We set camp in Grandmother's home, which was only a few blocks down the road. Like an unfortunate sudden strike of lightning, the cases shot up and an immediate lockdown was announced. As usual, rumours spread everywhere regarding the recent light of events but there was nothing left to do than to accept the fact that we were up for one heck of a ride. Everyone flocked to supermarkets to grab whatever resources they could and queues were like slithering snakes. But my personal favourite event of this time, the “Toilet Paper War”. Didn't people have water in their homes to wash their bottoms? Weirdly enough, an old lady had bought so much food and filled her entire store room that she was featured on the news. It was estimated that the stock would last her a year. Wouldn't most of the food expire? Humans are eccentric and selfish. Renovation work in our home halted quicker than my attention span during maths lessons. Our apartment was left with torn down walls, cement and dust occupying every crevice, and stacks of tiles for the toilets were left outside. The windows were covered in such a thick layer of dust and debris that they lost their purpose. The look of the house gave me a “war-ruin” vibe. I knew to myself we had an even longer way to go until we could move back in. The one thing we didn't lose was our income, thankfully. Dad was offered a new contract and we had a stable money-making job. The job required us managing the trips my Dad made on an Excel spreadsheet but that required Wi-Fi. And that was exactly what my grandparents did not need nor have. This affected my online lessons as well. Out of desperation, we borrowed Wi-Fi from a good-hearted neighbour of my grandparents for our use. What was heartwarming about this was that we got our first touch of humanity in this period. Everyone was selfish, not wanting to spare anything for others, and getting everything for themselves. As a family, we all played a part in helping to get the job done. I even volunteered to manage the finances for the company, which I am still doing to this day successfully. We did have some squabbles at some times but we would work it out. Our family spirit was like a lock that held together all our chains. Mum was expecting soon and it was worrying as we had to travel across the country to get basic necessities for a newborn. We simply couldn't take the risk of waiting until after the baby was born to get those items. Online shopping seemed like a viable option but prices were extremely high. But we were left with no other option. Cases of domestic violence doubled and even tripled during these trying times which invoked a sense of pity for the plight of the country to come. People were being laid off from their jobs and the economy plummeted to an all-time low. I know it's cliché but this entire situation taught me a valuable lesson to stay for a lifetime: People only know the value of what they have when it's gone. I have always held my head high calling myself a Singaporean, knowing my country is rich and we are all stable. I cannot imagine what would have happened if Dad also lost his job and if we went hungry. I always slept with my Air-conditioning making my room into a mini-Antarctica but I went days without sleep in Grandma's home as there was only a fan. It may seem a little extra, but believe me, we humans suffer when we go without even the most trivial things that we are used to having and don't realise the value. We shouldn't compare ourselves to those who have more than us and feel regretful but rather, look at those who have nothing and be grateful. Therefore, this episode in my life is called “Lockdown Lessons”

Television was the only source of the sound echoing all over the house. The channels were being kept changing between classical Indian music, sports and news by Rumi's father Ramesh. And on the other side, Rumi was sitting beside the window sipping the chai and enjoying her new storybook. 'The breakfast is ready!' exclaimed Brinda with ecstasy. Then, Rumi and her father went to the basin to perform the perfect five steps of washing their hands properly to protect themselves and the others from the prominent virus all over the world taking lives - the covid 19. After that, their faces were equally bored by eating the same recipe of poha for three days regularly. The storage of food had decreased due to the scarcity in the corona time. Minutes proceeded with only the sound of ticking clocks and then they heard footsteps coming from the stairs. 'Good morning !' Ananda said. Ananda had come to travel all over Kolkata but he was stuck because of the lockdown all over the world. Suddenly seeing her uncle, Rumi's innocent face turned dull. Her fingers were shaking, and the spoon in her hand clunked loudly onto the floor. She took it hastily and left the room to the kitchen by running. Rumi was staring at the fan circling above her head making whirring sounds. She was listening to music and wanted to delete all the noises in all the world and her screams in her head. The sweet girl was spending her abundant time thinking about death. Her eyes were watering and seemingly nobody knew the reason. She was clasping her thighs and pushed her nails into it, there became prominent red marks when she heard a knock on her door and as a reflex, she covered herself up, covered the strikes with her ladybugs printed pants, wiped out her tears, paused the playlist and went to open the door. Brinda came with a plate of freshly cut mangoes from their garden and gave it to the hands of Rumi. Mom: 'Is there anything you want to tell me?' Rumi was awestruck for a moment. Although she tried to tell everything but converted the discussion to her studies. 'I am fine ma. I am a bit late in my studies but I will cope up. Mom: ' Yeah, I noticed that too. This is the first online test where you got a b grade in maths, you have always got a grade in all your subjects' Me: 'Ma, I said Nah! I will improve ' Mom: ' Ok, I told this to your uncle and he said he will help you with mathematics from today .' Rumi was petrified, panic-stricken. The hair stood on end, her heart was in her mouth. She was standing there without motions and shaking like a leaf. She broke into a cold sweat, and she could not open her mouth to speak a word also. In the crisis going on the whole world because of the pandemic, all people were facing different troubles in their lives. There were fewer oxygen tanks for patients suffering from the disease and for Rumi - there was less oxygen in her lungs as well, in her house, in her home. She could not breathe. In the evening, she sat stiffly by her uncle to learn maths. The scary sight was being nearer to Rumi in disguise of Ananda's hand. He was pointing one hand to algebra and with the other hand, he was brushing little Rumi's shoulder with his thumb. His hands were going up, stroking the little neck of Rumi. He snatched one strand of her hair and was twirling it. His evil fingers were being circled onto the girl's face. Then the hands were reaching for down. Ananda was scratching Rumi's soft neck with his claws, and then the hand was crawling inside her turtleneck top, towards her bra strap. Rumi's legs ceased, her voice fell silent, she could not make a sound also. All was numb from her head to the nails of her legs, the fingers were cold, and she was sitting with a closed door behind. Wearing the turtleneck top on this hot summer day and full leggings also not protected her, she thought to herself. She felt that her uncle was not stuck in her house in the lockdown, she was - she was stuck in the lockdown in her own home. She tumbled, fell and fled to the bathroom and shouted hard. Rumi was moaning, screaming and sobbing. She was slapping herself and was trying to rip down her full clothes. Brinda and Ramesh came down horrifically and was banging the door. Rumi finally found the courage, she came out unhurriedly, pointed her tiny fingers to her uncle Ananda and let out all the pain ' He harassed me, he tried to rape me, he had touched my thighs before and now he is trying to touch all parts of the mine. ' After some prominent calmness, the storm came. Rumi's father's rage was coming out, his eyes became red with trickling water. Ramesh took Rumi in his arms and caressed her hair. Brinda's eyes were flowing with water, she squeezed Rumi and took her into her core. Ramesh just uttered some words which were so straight and severe to not her uncle but her rapist; ' You will get the place you deserve. A police station or better death. Now take all and leave at this instant only. '

Television was the only source of the sound echoing all over the house. The channels were being kept changing between classical Indian music, sports and news by Rumi's father Ramesh. And on the other side, Rumi was sitting beside the window sipping the chai and enjoying her new storybook. 'The breakfast is ready!' exclaimed Brinda with ecstasy. Then, Rumi and her father went to the basin to perform the perfect five steps of washing their hands properly to protect themselves and the others from the prominent virus all over the world taking lives - the covid 19. After that, their faces were equally bored by eating the same recipe of poha for three days regularly. The storage of food had decreased due to the scarcity in the corona time. Minutes proceeded with only the sound of ticking clocks and then they heard footsteps coming from the stairs. 'Good morning !' Ananda said. Ananda had come to travel all over Kolkata but he was stuck because of the lockdown all over the world. Suddenly seeing her uncle, Rumi's innocent face turned dull. Her fingers were shaking, and the spoon in her hand clunked loudly onto the floor. She took it hastily and left the room to the kitchen by running. Rumi was staring at the fan circling above her head making whirring sounds. She was listening to music and wanted to delete all the noises in all the world and her screams in her head. The sweet girl was spending her abundant time thinking about death. Her eyes were watering and seemingly nobody knew the reason. She was clasping her thighs and pushed her nails into it, there became prominent red marks when she heard a knock on her door and as a reflex, she covered herself up, covered the strikes with her ladybugs printed pants, wiped out her tears, paused the playlist and went to open the door. Brinda came with a plate of freshly cut mangoes from their garden and gave it to the hands of Rumi. Mom: 'Is there anything you want to tell me?' Rumi was awestruck for a moment. Although she tried to tell everything but converted the discussion to her studies. 'I am fine ma. I am a bit late in my studies but I will cope up. Mom: ' Yeah, I noticed that too. This is the first online test where you got a b grade in maths, you have always got a grade in all your subjects' Me: 'Ma, I said Nah! I will improve ' Mom: ' Ok, I told this to your uncle and he said he will help you with mathematics from today .' Rumi was petrified, panic-stricken. The hair stood on end, her heart was in her mouth. She was standing there without motions and shaking like a leaf. She broke into a cold sweat, and she could not open her mouth to speak a word also. In the crisis going on the whole world because of the pandemic, all people were facing different troubles in their lives. There were fewer oxygen tanks for patients suffering from the disease and for Rumi - there was less oxygen in her lungs as well, in her house, in her home. She could not breathe. In the evening, she sat stiffly by her uncle to learn maths. The scary sight was being nearer to Rumi in disguise of Ananda's hand. He was pointing one hand to algebra and with the other hand, he was brushing little Rumi's shoulder with his thumb. His hands were going up, stroking the little neck of Rumi. He snatched one strand of her hair and was twirling it. His evil fingers were being circled onto the girl's face. Then the hands were reaching for down. Ananda was scratching Rumi's soft neck with his claws, and then the hand was crawling inside her turtleneck top, towards her bra strap. Rumi's legs ceased, her voice fell silent, she could not make a sound also. All was numb from her head to the nails of her legs, the fingers were cold, and she was sitting with a closed door behind. Wearing the turtleneck top on this hot summer day and full leggings also not protected her, she thought to herself. She felt that her uncle was not stuck in her house in the lockdown, she was - she was stuck in the lockdown in her own home. She tumbled, fell and fled to the bathroom and shouted hard. Rumi was moaning, screaming and sobbing. She was slapping herself and was trying to rip down her full clothes. Brinda and Ramesh came down horrifically and was banging the door. Rumi finally found the courage, she came out unhurriedly, pointed her tiny fingers to her uncle Ananda and let out all the pain ' He harassed me, he tried to rape me, he had touched my thighs before and now he is trying to touch all parts of the mine. ' After some prominent calmness, the storm came. Rumi's father's rage was coming out, his eyes became red with trickling water. Ramesh took Rumi in his arms and caressed her hair. Brinda's eyes were flowing with water, she squeezed Rumi and took her into her core. Ramesh just uttered some words which were so straight and severe to not her uncle but her rapist; ' You will get the place you deserve. A police station or better death. Now take all and leave at this instant only. '

The last year has taken so much from us. I am almost certain that I do not only speak for myself when I say the pandemic made me experience life as an hourglass that somehow both increased and decreased in speed. To put it bluntly - we've been robbed of life. Whether this has affected our relationships, opportunities or even time with loved ones, we have all been forced to make adjustments. I distinctly remember the day my country's government announced the groundbreaking news that students in highschool and university would shift to online education. My classmates cheered happily and couldn't wait to get an extra hour of sleep in the morning. However, days quickly turned into months and months quickly turned into a blur of tired eyes and a rapidly growing pile of work. Life has been difficult. However, the pandemic has also given a lot of us perspective. Perspective. What does that imply? Of course the definition of the word in this particular scenario can not be defined. To me, nonetheless, perspective meant that I noticed something I was too busy, too active and too unavailable to notice before. I noticed how much I have improved as a person. Let me explain. When I was a young child I used to write in a diary. However, not the sparkly, fluffy notebook with a heart lock on it. Surely I had one of those too, but this one was completely different. It was handed to me by my psychologist whom I visited every week. I don't remember much of this time in my life as I was only around nine years old. In addition to that, it's a part of my life that I sometimes actively choose to push away. It was not a pleasant time. Almost every night I had panic attacks and more often than not I used to ask myself if this was the time that I would die. During dinner I would go to the bathroom only to calm myself down from the anxiety that was running around my brain like a dog chasing a tennis ball on an open field. When I think of this time I quickly realize how messed up my mind was for a nine year old. Of course I feel sorry for my younger self. But I also try to let it slip from memory. That's why the experience of finding this diary was so important to me. Lockdown made my mental state so much worse than before. I have felt lonely, sad and tired. But what has made it the most unbearable are the spiraling thoughts in my head that never seem to take a break. I understand that the journey and relationship between a person and their mental health is not always a linear one. I understand that certain situations can make it harder to create a positive mindspace. But what I have a hard time understanding is why I can't just get a ticket that tells me when this suffering will be over. When the train of anxiety will leave. When I can wave it goodbye. Sometimes it's not even the anxiety itself that keeps me up all night. Sometimes it's simply the awareness of the fact that it exists, and that deep down I feel it knows me better than I do myself. When I opened the pages to that diary I was taken on a journey through my mind. It was weird. Imagine going on a vivid tour through the most personal and bottomless part of your past. I swiftly remembered writing those words. Those sentences. One part of the book was a chart where you could rate the level of fear a certain trigger made you feel. As I read through that segment I suddenly felt what I believe is the true meaning of perspective. While not a perfect line, I could still observe the progression that only a few moments earlier had been fully invisible. My baby steps were actually the size of a dinosaur's. Not one thing on the list I had made when I was nine even remotely scared me anymore. If I were to fill out the chart once more all the tens out of tens would be zeros. I felt proud of myself. It made me rethink those times that I've doubted the fact that I will ever feel better. That I will ever see that ticket in my hand. I am not cured. Not even close. But it doesn't matter because this story is not the story of how I finally became anxiety-free. Instead, it's the story of how I found the strength to keep working towards that goal. Maybe someday I will be writing essays concerning my full mental health battle, but not today. And that is perfectly okay. I have put that journal back in my closet and I don't intend to look at it for a long time. But it will always be a reminder that even the tiniest improvements are still steps in the right direction. If you've made it to this sentence, thank you. Thank you for taking a little time out of your day and dedicating it to reading about my life. I can confidently say that this little story means a lot to me, and sharing it makes it even greater. While I know nothing about your story or about your journey, I know that whatever you're struggling with will be solved someday. And who knows. Maybe you need to do what I did. Maybe the solution is right there. Maybe you need to see things from another perspective.

A change in the status quo always comes at a cost. As much as we may complain about boredom and being stuck in a rut, there is a certain security and comfort that routine provides. Few things can boast of changing life on a global level, Covid 19 is one of those things. At first, for me, it was just one of those things you read on the news, then I read that a case had been confirmed in Nigeria and just like that, it went from a distant news to a very real and present threat. The first thing was the fear; I, along with many others, was concerned about the ability of the country to handle it. Although in 2014, Ebola was handled remarkably well, there was no guarantee that this one would be. The next thing was the information overload. From WhatsApp statuses to news stations. It seemed everyone was talking about the Corona virus. There were questions: Where did it come from? A lab? A bat? Something else? Do I just have a cold or is it the virus? There was advice: drink lemon tea, sanitise, take your vitamins, wear your masks, stay six feet away. The third thing was the change; no hugging, no large gatherings and most memorable of all, the lockdown. The things we used to take for granted were now unattainable luxuries. During all this, I had just started my NYSC*, a one year mandatory service for Nigerian graduates and I was posted to a School in Nasarawa state. My means of transportation then was by bus, a crowded bus carrying people who may have been exposed to the virus. There was exchange of money and all forms of unavoidable body contact. I made it through with a mask on my face, a bottle of sanitizer in my bag and a prayer in my heart. There was the weekly Community Development Service meetings, another gathering of people who may have have been exposed to the virus. I made it through the same way. For some reason, not everyone believed there was a virus. They were easy to identify and in typical Nigerian manner, loved to tease those of us with masks. In my PPA*, we tried to enforce the rules but considering we were dealing with primary and Junior Secondary School students, it was almost impossible. I'll never forget when we received the Federal instruction that all schools should shut down in order to enforce the lockdown. It was already exam period and somehow, with a lot of scrambling, we were able to start and finish the end of term exams in three days. Needless to say, our students didn't find it funny. We all went home, thinking life would resume in another month or two. For the first time in my life, I had nothing but time on my hands. All the things I had neglected due to "not having time" were staring at me as I guiltily continued to neglect them. We all tried to adjust to the new normal and naturally, there was a lot of fear and uncertainty. Most devastating of all, was seeing the death toll all over the world and the life long effects on the survivors, The desperation of governments and the heroic sacrifices of health care professionals, The hardship and hunger on the masses due to not being able to work. The unspoken question was, would the world ever recover from this? One thing was proven: Humans are wired to survive. In the midst of all these, I saw a great display of faith as people sought a reason to hope. I saw the fellowship of a community as neighbours shopped for the elderly and vulnerable around them. I saw the kindness of strangers as people contributed cash and kind to alleviate the hardship. Lessons were learned, people vowed to never take a hug for granted again. We were forced to slow down and spend time with our own selves and our loved ones. I saw the truth as I realised, along with everyone else that nothing in life is guaranteed. Unforeseen circumstances can pop up at any time bringing welcome and unwelcome change. So, the time to love, the time to appreciate, the time to forgive, the time to act, is now. In my part of the world, the lockdown lasted six months and the death toll wasn't very high. For the most part, life as usual has resumed. In areas where it hasn't, we survive. One day at a time. *** NYSC: National Youth Service Corps PPA: Place of Primary Assignment.

Why I don't Want Lockdown to End. By Natascha Graham There are the obvious reasons why I don't want lockdown to end: potential death being the forerunner. I'm severely asthmatic and a part of the “clinically extremely vulnerable” group, so let's just say that catching COVID wouldn't be the best idea. But it is the other feelings and emotions that go alongside the fear of death that seem to have acquired some sort of mob-mentality and are bashing me over the head at every available opportunity. Anxiety. That's a big one. Anxiety rules all others, never shying away from the front centre stage, anxiety takes her role seriously and can stop me from entering a shop even before I have planned on visiting one. Then, curtseying to anxiety (and sometimes intertwined with), comes panic - this can range anywhere from, Oh God, I've forgotten my mask/accidentally gone out in my pyjamas/forgotten to book a Tesco delivery slot and now I won't be able to get one until two months time to wondering if it's COVID every single time you feel even vaguely unwell. Then there is the sense of loss. Nostalgia even. Gone are the first few weeks of the pandemic, when the UK went into what is now somewhat ruefully known as “Lockdown 1”, and we spent our Thursday evenings waiting for 8 PM when everyone in the country would stand on their front doorsteps to clap or bang together pots and pans to cheer for the NHS. Gone too are the 11 AM mornings when people in my street would play music and dance together (socially distancing of course) in the middle of the road. I have a fondness for those memories. In the beginning of the pandemic, there was a feeling of panic. No one could find a bag of flour for love nor money, and everyone was buying out all the bloody toilet roll, but somewhere within that, once the panic began to fade, there was the feeling of community, an old-fashioned sort of communities pulling together feeling which was reminiscent of the war that can only be imagined by myself, having been born in the late 80's. We were all in this together. And I felt that. My wife and I coped by digging a vegetable and herb garden. We nurtured seedlings from seeds, grew potatoes from potato peelings and learned along the way how to (and how not to) create a garden that worked. While doing this we swapped seeds and plants with people nearby, conversing and making arrangements via Facebook Marketplace and then leaving the plants on the doorstep with instructions to drop the money through the letterbox. Even this was a form of connection that felt like it meant something. So often things don't feel as though they truly mean something anymore. And maybe that's just me, but I don't really think that it is. Don't get me wrong, my heart ached every single time the death toll rose, and I felt as annoyed as the next person when I spotted a lunatic wearing their mask on their chin, or beneath their nose, or pulling up a scarf or sleeve over their mouth, and I felt and inordinate amount (and still do) of rage toward people who come within about six metres of me, my wife or our children (never mind the two metres). As a society we get up, we go to work, we come home, and in between there is a lot of complaining about what time we have to get up, the work we are doing, and how little time we have to ourselves when we get home. Then for people like me who work from home, there's the loneliness and isolation that comes with that. Ironically, and surprisingly, I felt less lonely at the beginning of the pandemic than I have ever done before. For once, we were a united front. Great Britain and the world joining forces against a virus that was keeping us apart. We had a social distancing VE Day, we looked out for each other, and people came together to form groups to collect prescriptions and other things for vulnerable people. People looked out for one another, on the whole - there were still some nitwits, but on the whole people truly cared for one another. I don't want to be confined to one country, and I don't really want to live in lockdown forever, or be unable to visit pubs or shops, but I do want to keep a hold of that sense of community that seemed to flourish so quickly, only to die a death, along with any hope we had of returning to normal life, at the end of lockdown 1. I have never felt as firmly connected to others as I have done during the beginning of the pandemic, and I miss it now with the same pang of nostalgic wistfulness of childhood - the kind that makes your chest ache, and if we take anything from the COVID-19 pandemic, let it be that. A sense of community, of looking after one's next door neighbours, and of others. Of being kind, and truly caring for those around us.

Its been five months. As easy as that sounds, i feel trapped, helpless, yet grateful for the fact i'm still breathing. My body does not function as it should. i sleep by midnight, knowing fully well i have nothing to do but lay around doing nothing. It has come to the point where even social media is boring. Being bored is boring. we move around in our homes, like zombies... nothing to do, nothing to say, nothing to think about. new developments after the the other, yet none bring good news.. "CORONA VIRUS" "BLACK LIVES MATTER" "ELECTIONS" this holiday has gone on long enough, i will, from now on appreciate the time, effort,hard work and determination put in by our health care workers. They say " an idle mind is the devil's workshop" for some it has become his home. Don't let lock down keep you from achieving great things.

My New Year's Resolution this year was to live every moment. To do everything with direct intention. To take advantage of the time that I have been given. I made this resolution while sipping a Piña Colada on the beach of a little known island in the South Pacific under a full canopy of stars, surrounded by my friends and family. My energy was high and my joy was boundless. "This is my year" was the thought that propelled me home to Canada. I carried the intoxicating smell of fresh blooms and salty waves back to the Great White North. I am a big believer in the plausibility of supernatural omens. If a sign lands in my lap, I am inclined to notice. I should mention that on New Year's day, not 12 hours after I had made my inspiring resolution, the beach we were sitting on was pummelled by a hurricane. I noticed, but I didn't think. I saw, but I didn't care. I was on a quest to find amazement, and I didn't think that I would find it buried beneath a devastated beach country being ravished by the forces of nature. So I turned my head, and sought brighter horizons. Here's how that turned out for me. January I was elbow-deep in study materials for my final exams. Rumours of a new and dangerous disease circulating in China were mentioned, but never pondered. Exam anxiety had a tight grip on my attention. The world would have to wait. February The beginning of my final semester of high school. The air was thrumming with excitement and tension as new classes were beginning. The rumours were stronger now. People were starting to cancel trips abroad. I spent most of that month feeling like an animal milliseconds after a trap had been sprung: knowing that something big was about to snap shut, but with no idea of how much pain it would bring. March By March we all knew that we were living on borrowed time. Warnings from Health Canada rang in my ear. March 13th was our last day of school. None of us believed that it would come to that. We were told that we would be back in the building in two weeks. Two weeks later we were asked to come and pick up our things. April Like most of Canada, I spent this entire month entombed in a gilded cell. My siblings and I were forced to stalk the stagnate rooms of our prison, terrified that our parents would lose their jobs, that a gust of wind would carry a deadly disease with it, that we would die from boredom. Every breath was a risk; every trip outside a dangerous trek across continents. May My screen time would come to nearly eleven hours every day. My only escape to the outside world was through the small box resting in my hand. I remember one day our wifi went down. As trivial as it sounds, I almost lost it. June School ended this month. If you can call it school. I received my diploma and tassel in a box. I was able to take pictures of my graduation with some close friends, but most were too afraid to leave their homes. They had relatives that were at risk. They couldn't chance it. July I started working. I interact with people from behind a plexiglass screen. I shout to be heard through my mask. I miss my grandparents, my family overseas, my friends. I'm luckier than most. But I will never be able to shake the feeling of total isolation from the world that plagued my entire being for the course of 11 full weeks. Month 7 of a tumultuous year is now behind us. A year incased in doubt and fear and isolation. But I have stayed true to my resolution. I have tried to search for the good. I love running. I can now run 9km in 55 minutes. And skateboarding? Whereas before I could barely survive a slight hill, I now stay out for hours at a time, just exploring my neighbourhood. It's true what they say; that you only learn you love something when it is no longer available. I learned how much I truly appreciated schooling in person. 8 months ago I complained endlessly about having to wake up early. I would kill to have those complaints again. Through an endless stream of FaceTime calls, I have discovered a gold mine of information about my friends. The gift of isolation allowed me to really understand their driving forces. When you can't laugh about shared drama, talking about your fears becomes a ready ally. Most of all, I've gotten to know myself over the past 6 months. I know that I value my family endlessly. That I am dedicated to projects. That I am strong when faced with a challenge. That I am unafraid to put in the work to create something that I am proud of. A solar eclipse results when the moon covers the sun's light for a small period of time. You can grieve the disappearance of the light if you want. But why stare into darkness when you can search for daytime starlight? Rock bottom is a solid starting space. Rainbows only appear after a thunderstorm. Misfortune should not be rejected, but cherished, for in it, we find ourselves.

“I looked, and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine, and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.” Revelation 6: 8. As the world was rippled by an unprecedented crisis, in terms of government responses and civilian confinement, my thriller-hazed and overstretched mind repeated this verse as the soundtrack for this out-of-body pandemic (coupled with Lux Aeterna and World War Z reassuring melodies). However, thanks to a mental slap by my remaining brain cells of logic, I came to my senses and buried the verse deep down in the coffer of my existential worries. Officially 649,662 people have hitherto perished from the novel coronavirus, a mind-boggling number and heart-wrenching reality which has exposed our health care deficiencies and, specifically, the dilapidation of our nursing facilities for the elderly and the vulnerable. Low and behold, despite school physically closing its doors, my life did not take a drastic turn for the psychologically worse. Due to school work, my general preference for snuggling in my bed watching movies or reading books instead of going out to rejuvenate my body with fresh air, my micro-phobias, and my tendency to over-analyze human interactions, I was never really an extrovert nor did I enjoy the outdoors. With the lockdown, suddenly my lifestyle became the norm. While I was pinched sometimes by bitter-sweet school nostalgia, I communicated with my friends every day, even though video-calls. This is a little embarrassing, but skipping the harrowing process of dusting my skin flaws with makeup every day was a liberating experience. The stress of catching the metro every morning and sharing my personal space with people from all different backgrounds of breath aromas, body odors, and perceptions of personal hygiene, the adrenaline of running like a headless chicken from one class to the next and having to socialize during the breaks, was gone. The extra time I gained was channeled towards creative activities, projects that I actually enjoyed. I worked more on my assignments, wrote more, read the books that had asphyxiated on my dusty bookshelves and learned more on global events, like the Hong-Kong protests, the wars in Afghanistan and Syria, climate change, how China is exactly governed and why the coronavirus happened there, problems whose gravity eradicated my amoeba-sized complaints and caprices. I reconnected with old friends, tried some online art courses, participated in online MUNs, studied more music, and experimented with the baking recipes, rampant on the Internet for intrepid lockdowners (yes I almost destroyed our oven). Regarding school, our final exams were canceled, a fact that my 5-year-in-exam-preparation psyche has not digested. I feel greater anguish for the canceled trips of the youngsters, which in my time created the most profound, inspiring, and memorable experiences. The COVID-19 pandemic brought an undecipherable hiatus to my 6-year old secondary-school marathon, by deconstructing, on the one hand, my deterministic worldview, but also by re-affirming my pesky peradventures on human relationships; laconism in the number of friends and mental solitude have become an oasis while meandering the wasteland of social anxiety, complicated friends and companions. This bunch of friends, however, becomes often invaluable. My best friend fell gravely ill, the grandfather of one of my most beloved classmates passed away. On my way towards home, one lady slapped the hand of her child when he touched the handle of a door at the bus stop. “Do you want to never see your parents? To stay alone in a hospital room without your friends?”, she screamed not to her child but towards the sky. I felt helpless, visualizing endlessly the grandfather of my friend trying to survive the abyss while being agonizingly alone. While many people reveled in the serenity of loneliness, million others were slowly scorched by its flames until they perished. In Greece we say “ουδέν κακόν αμιγές καλού”, meaning “every cloud has a silver lining”. Millions of other people are faced with the emotional paralysis of death, the uncertainty of unemployment, the phantom of depression, the anxiety of overwhelming bills and obligations. I hope that we will be able to recover stronger, united, and willing to start fixing the fissures that render the foundations of human happiness and well-being teetering and shaky. (the picture features the Grand-Place, the most famous landmark in Brussels, deserted during the peak of the pandemic in Belgium)

It's the 3rd of February, the world's at its best pace. I'm on my terrace, walking, thinking, dreaming. The sky looks beautiful in its deep blue. The orange sun is yet to set. I start browsing, I witness a myriad of vacant rooftops and just one or two human figures, either in search for a dependable cell phone network or peace. I come here for the latter. My father is a social worker, he has devoted his life to service. While I was in school, I wouldn't see him for days, even if he was still in town, by the time he'd come I was mostly asleep and by the time he was up, I was in school. My sister is completing her studies in a different state, I don't even remember the last time I talked to her for more than five minutes. My mother is a homemaker, but she's  barely home probably because she's a "social person" and when she is home, I either have an assignment to complete or some place to visit. It's been ages since I've had a proper conversation with any of them, or since the four of us sat together talking about the good times and amusing. My family is just one of the thousands of things that pop up in my head while I'm up here. I walk further to the edge of the terrace, I bend slightly to get a peek of what's going on in the world below. I discover a bevy of kids playing soccer, people wrapping up their days, cars honking moving around in a rush, a couple walking hand in hand, a small time grocer trying to desperately sell literally everything he has to a single customer. I see the kids again, this time half of them celebrating their victory by hugging each other and laughing in delight. Besides them, I see two women, probably neighbors, fighting and abusing each other with complete vigor. One of them is now looking  skywards and yelling some terrible words, I wonder who she's shouting at, there's nobody up here except me. Oops, I better get back to my walk. So basically today looks just like any other day! Now let's fast forward a little to when a pandemic took over our lives and everything just flipped. It's the 26th of march today. A few days back our Prime Minister announced a complete lockdown in our country. I still come up here, on the terrace, but it's an entirely different sight nowadays. The sky is still in its deep blue, I still hear noises, but this time not of the cars honking, today I hear the sounds of humans, a lot of humans, to be fair. The rooftops that once never showed signs of life, now look like a carnival, only a socially distanced one though. On any other day I would've been slightly disconcerted by the fact that the only place I turned to for peace had transformed into some kind of playground filled with people. But not today, and to be honest I actually feel delighted, because I don't just see individuals, I see families, families that have probably laughed together for the first time since ages, families that have conversed with each other as a whole, families that held hands like there's no tomorrow. Even I am not alone today, I'm walking alongside my father, talking about things we never thought we'd ever talk about, discovering interests, we never knew we had in common, exploring my plans for the future that I never thought would fascinate him. A few feet apart, I see my sister and my mother sitting together and laughing about how terrible my sister had cooked last night, and surfing for new recipes on the internet for my father who's next in line to cook dinner, and it's not just the four of us, I see joy and happiness all around me. Funny, isn't it? The times that are the hardest, are the times I am surrounded only by felicity.  My father went and sat next to the mother-daughter duo, gesturing me to join, I tell him I'll be there in a minute. I would've just gone and sat with my family, but I'm so amused by looking at everything around me, that I was tempted to uncover this new world. I see a young couple teaching their toddlers badminton, I see a mother teaching her kid to ride a bicycle next to her husband who was listening to his daughter explain some features about the laptop, I also see the neighbors who once used to come to blows quite often, today sit on their respective balconies, chattering. I smile to myself and go sit with my family. People feel that the pandemic somehow forced families and individuals to come closer, but I feel that the pandemic just gave us a reason to pause and reflect. We'd all been so worried and in such a rush to get the best of our lives that we missed savoring the most beautiful moments. The pandemic, let us stop for a moment and breathe, it let us contemplate, realize and understand all those pieces that we had missed in these hasty lives of ours. I'd once read "Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey. At other times, it is allowing another to take yours." This pandemic made us reach out and hold one's hand as well as let our hands to be held.

Have you ever wondered how can we stay connected with each other, even with the strangers during these testing times, right from our homes? I feel, through stories we can connect with them even without having a conversation in the real-time. My story is about sharing and narrating stories of hundreds of people from different communities, background, profession, speaking different languages and from different parts of the world. Let me start from the beginning. It was the evening of 14th May 2020, I was watching one of the motivational videos where the speaker advised the people to not just think about something, but doing something about that thought and the initiative. This single sentence had impacted me a lot. Since the coronavirus pandemic started and the lockdown has been imposed, I had thought of talking to people about it. I wanted to know what are they feeling, what are they going through and how has it impacted their lives? This was just a thought. But, while watching the video I decided that I will do something about this thought. Many questions were going on in my mind. So, I shared the idea with two of my very close friends, Nishant and Shivangi. The idea was to make an open platform where people can share their experiences and stories. Both of my friends suggested many more things to be included and some beautiful ideas which can give this idea a practical approach. So, it started. I was the Founder and the other two were the Co-founders. We listed out the things that need to be done to launch this initiative and make this available to the people. For the next 7 days, we segregated the tasks and allotted ourselves tasks mutually in which we were better. We worked day and night, taking a sleep of not more than 4 hours each day for the next 7 days. I worked on the technical part, Nishant worked on the layout, and Shivangi reached out to people for their stories. The day came, 21st May 2020, when we launched in our small community and connections. Gradually it started spreading among people. More people wanted to join us and share the stories with us. We also started interviewing people and pen down their stories and people also started sending their stories. After sometime when a lot of people started joining us, it became more of a platform where anyone can showcase their creativity in any forms and our ever-growing community became a storehouse of ideas, suggestions, interests, creativity and talent. As a result, we started narrating stories through various mediums and platforms like podcasts, videos, graphics, etc. The mediums and platforms are increasing day by day. We have always looked for a way to align the interest and talent of any individual associated with us with storytelling. We have always believed in collaborative teamwork where members join their hands together and contribute and we come up with the final version. It is roughly 2 months since we started this initiative and today we have 54 members in our community from 6 different countries, published more than 250 stories from 15+ countries, interviewed more than 30 personalities and connected to 4000+ people virtually right from our homes. The initiative has reached 45 countries and 20,000+ people visited the stories on the website. It has also been covered by 2 Newspapers recently. We now publish 4 stories every day, release podcasts and videos twice a week and conduct helpful sessions through live talkshows twice a week. We have also released videos related to Mental health titled ‘Sadness v/s Depression' which has been viewed by 12,000+ people. The platform has stories of Doctors treating COVID-19 patients, Frontline warriors, vendors, businessman, employees, essential employees, actors, singers, athletes, RJs, and many more. The initiative is called 'The lockdown story' and it exists because, in this time of the pandemic, every story deserves an applaud. People reach out to us and share with us how the stories are helping them to heal, believing that they are not the only one with a particular thought or feeling, there are many others like them and how they are connecting directly with the stories. These feedbacks motivate us a lot in continuing to do so and expanding our reach to more and more people. I feel that this is the period which the students will read about in their history books in future. This is a very important phase in the lives of people which will be remembered for decades. By reading stories, talking to so many people and interviewing them, I have realised that this period has impacted almost all the people in many different ways and at many different levels, positively or negatively. No two people have been impacted exactly in the same manner. The post-pandemic period will change the life of each and everyone in one way or the other, majorly or minorly. So, the experiences during this period will play an important role in future to learn and to grow.

Before lockdown, We met. We had spent the best time of our lives in those 9 hours. I felt those 9 hours were going to repeat in my life till I am alive and the streets of our kisses won't be as empty as it is in this pandemic time. The lockdown is everywhere. Applicable to every single thing. It is weird to know that lockdown is acting on our love too. But what if I say my heart doesn't allow me to follow a lockdown on our love. I still love him even if my eyes haven't seen him since months. By not kissing his lips. By staying at home, trying to feel him again. Lockdown is for airlines but what if someone's heart flies all the time, untraceable to any radar in the world. Lockdown is for increasing social distancing but what if my soul sleeps with him in his arms every night. If I knew that we are going to be this far... I would prefer to pack up my suitcases and walk out from my home with him. Sometimes I really think... Was it the last kiss? I am experiencing a lot of things in this quarantine. Things that I never bothered to look at. Things I never had time for. Quarantine is tough not because of Covid-19 but because life is teaching us something and learning was always tough for humans. Life is teaching us the people who care for us aren't as careful as they should be in this pandemic. They are pampering us even after one of us test positive. They try to save us even if there is no chance to it. Risking and not saving themselves from the pandemic. Which means we really need to stop calling ourselves as inhuman. Life is teaching us that our lives are even better if we breathe in the fresh air than smoke. After all, lockdown made the cigarettes a bit expensive and less available. Just like the posh cars which contributed more to the pollution. Life is teaching us we look healthier having simple meals at home rather than being at Starbucks, clicking photos of the cookies rather than coffees and adding a caption of food porn. Lockdown is teaching girls that they made the cosmetic industry successful in making them insecure about their looks because in this lockdown... Girls are finally accepting their hairy legs, hands and bushy eyebrows. Starbucks... Make me remind of him. No, we haven't stepped into this cafe but I just want an excuse to drag him into this quarantine experience. So here is the reason why Starbucks is so relatable. The stars decided us to meet and love each other and now the bucks are making us separate because most of the time we are out of it... I think after lockdown we will be more financially weak... Maybe It was the last kiss. Now humans always miss out the things he once used to do or he never used to do. Most of us would pretend to miss trees, greenery and animals but have we ever hugged a tree? Walked with an animal peacefully when he is wagging his tail in excitement to see what will you feed him next. Now here is what we are actually missing- 1. Damaging earth. (shockingly the nature is getting better and happier without humans so we just want to say - We are back. 2. Flying (Humans love flying so what they did was making airplanes fly in the sky all day and all night from one hemisphere to another but now only those are flying who deserved wings for example – birds. 3. Abusing animals (after all, that's humans favourite pastime) guess what? God is having his favourite past time too now... Believe me or not but god had it all. The god is just like a loyal guy who just saw his love (humans) cheating on him and this time he isn't in need of a breakup but a divorce. However, he isn't married so he wants tougher revenge... What's better than a murder. But now I really feel god is planning a murder of 7.8 billion loved ones or ones he loves once. Loved ones remind me of my loved one. I hope he isn't the one loved by god. I just want him safe under my wing. I am so thankful... He is 21 and I am 19... At Least this year... None of us have been '20' because number 20 has really been unlucky this time and what makes it unluckier is that the number 20 has appeared twice this year. Year is making me remind that we have just met last year on 13 January. The irony is people call number 13 cursed... At Least it is better than the number 20-20. It hasn't stopped us to meet. But I don't think anything can stop my boyfriend to meet me. He will deal with 2020 and all of us will just like my boyfriend who is still planning our future meets but the only work he is not able to do is planning the plans just like all of us on the planet. Afterall nothing is planned in our life so why not choose the positive things. So now, No, It wasn't the last kiss. There are more to go.

Today's is a new day! Wait wait wait are you sure because it's look and feel like the same day. Let me introduce myself my name is Devansh I am from India I just completed my 12th and I scored 94% in English subject which is a big deal for me, and now I am looking for college's. Life in this hard time is not easy, it's been more than 3 months and now it's feel like I am in jail, there is no excitement in my life now I am bored by doing all the things, i watched all the TV shows of my interest and now in TV you can watch only 10-15 years old TV shows and they all sucks. In march when I am preparing for my board exam suddenly I starts thinking what I will do after my exams like play all day with friend, eat whatever I want, basically I will become king in my own world but in reality I am just locked in my house and I am not allowed to go out and even if I go out what will happen because all the malls parks are locked no one is allowed to go outside the house. I even feel that my brain stop thinking because without work your life just stop working and specially when you are not allowed to go anywhere then it's feels like you are living the same day all the the time, it's kind of become a game simulation. Now I just wake up whenever I want then eat then sleep, and it's horrible. All the people want to stay home when they are working or student but now when you have to just sit in your house all day without any work and feels like you are in prison. I hope all the things will go back to normal. Well, now I know what to do I love writing so I will write about my life and do some writing work for others people's and also participate in writing competition because I love it, I love writing.

I saw her on the sixth day. I was still living under the illusion of being ‘introverted' and actively ignoring everyone around. I used to be so caught up with life that I never really cared about my living surroundings or little everyday things like my neighbors. Then Covid happened, and I found myself trapped in a place where I knew no one. Turns out staying indoors and alone is all good and fine when it's a personal choice—but when it is mandated, the mask falls off. You can only watch so much on Netflix and God of War actually has a final stage. Within six days I was fed up. I put on a pair of shorts and decided to take a walk. That's when I saw her, sitting by the veranda and playing cards with a group. I muttered a greeting that invited no further conversation and they responded in kind. That brief encounter had made me realize I had pretty neighbors—or a pretty neighbor at the very least. The next day, I stole a peek through my window and was rewarded with a view of her skipping outside. I had regularly heard the sound ‘tap-tap-tap' previously but paid no mind to it. I watched her, unseen, and found more satisfaction in that preview than my TV had offered in days. 3 days later, I stepped out and openly resumed my viewership. “Do you have a spare?” I called out and was rewarded with a misstep and an end to her skipping. “Nah.” “Wish I could buy one now. Your constant workout is now looking like a direct reprimand to my lazy self.” She laughed to that. “Why not jog instead?” I asked her. She shrugged. “I see no reason why it can't be both.” She really did have a well-toned body. “I see your fine body isn't a fluke,” She smiled and said, “We can go on a roadwork tomorrow by, say, 5am?” Tempting but… “Ah,” I lamented, “I'm a night-crawler; I usually sleep around 2-3 thereabout. There's no way I can get up by 5.” “I see,” she nodded. “I never joke with my sleep. You'll be hard pressed to find me awake by 8pm. I like my sleep that much.” “I'm Paul," I said. “Chichi.” “Are you new here?” She laughed heartily. “No one is new here, Paul.” “What?” “The houses were built and fully leased out 6 months ago. There have been no ins and outs since then.” “Wow.” It was news to me. I almost died from exhaustion the next day when I joined her on her roadwork. But earning her company in my house later that day was worth the sacrifice.. We were two interesting individuals who had been thrown indoors by a mandated lock-down and were pleasantly delighted to have each other's company. We traversed through all plausible topics. At some point I asked her about her music taste, and she said she loved hip-hop. “Ah, so team Cardi B or team Nicki?” I asked. “I'm a fan of good music,” she replied with a shrug. “I see no reason why it can't be both.” “True,” I agreed. “We always try to make factions and rivalries where there need not be any. Some people need to just learn to enjoy talents. Like Ronaldo and Messi or Davido and Wizkid.” We discussed and argued over opinionated topics. We bantered each other and laughed and I found myself getting more and more fond of her voice and her presence. We played cards and she trashed me vehemently, so I suggested we play soccer on my PS console and there I trashed her shamelessly. I eventually suggested drinks. Not really knowing if her definition of ‘drinks' was the same as mine, I brought two cups and two options: juice and vodka. “So, which is it going to be?” I asked pointing to the drinks. She seemed to deliberate inwards whether drinking vodka in a new acquaintance's house was wise. So, I answered for her. “No reason why it can't be both?” She smiled and nodded. We watched a movie while drinking juice and vodka. The movie was horrible. A bad movie can be a good thing—anything, as I came to realize, can be a good thing—in the right company. We made fun of the movie and had lengthy discussions criticizing all the failed plot points and loopholes. Finally, Chichi yawned. “My bed is calling me,” she announced, standing. “I had a great day, Paul. I really did” “So did I.” I had never been more sincere. We stepped out to a beautifully lit night aided by a full moon and the way the estate's lights lit the cobblestones. I wasn't quite sure if it had always been like this or if I was starting to see things differently. I walked her to her door and, for the first time that day, we were both silent. “Goodnight neighbor Paul,” she cooed sweetly. “Actually,” I spared a glance at my watch, “It's 10 minutes past 1. It's morning now.” “Wow! Past one?” She was quite surprised. “Can't remember when last I stayed up this late.” “I know. You did say you like your sleep too much,” I smiled. “Does this mean you've met something or someone you may like more?” She smiled. I wondered if that was an affirmation or just a simple expression. But then again, I saw no reason why it couldn't be both.

I am a daddy's girl. I love my dad with every fibre of my being. Growing up if found him to be a rare cross between a best friend and a sage. His wisdom was always sound but he reasoned with me as an equal. Our bond grew when I was in high school. His office was very close to my school so we would commute together in the mornings and evenings. We never felt "stuck" in traffic because there was always so much to talk about, we would pick each other's brain about everything. I was up to date with current affairs and I was very much connected to the world around me because of our conversations in the car. When I did not understand something in the news, for instance, he would give me context, and we would engage it further. Often I felt that dad was far wiser than any news reporter and I was quite happy with us talking over the radio. I even recall a time when I asked him what it took to be the president. This was not a random question on my part. I genuinely felt that he had everything it took to run a country. He was kind, compassionate, caring, intelligent, honourable, hardworking, and the list goes on. I trusted him and I clung to his every word. I could not understand, however, how he came to marry my mother. I did not like her at all. I found her to be very harsh and mean, and generally unpleasant to be around. I recall a day when I had been so fed up with her that I blurted out "you know if dad were to ever cheat on you, I would not tell you". This obviously did not sit well with her. She confronted dad about it and accused him of cheating. When dad asked me why I said that to mom, I simply retorted that I wanted a new mom. At times I felt as though dad was overcompensating and that he had to be both parents to me. He was my shoulder to cry on when I was unhappy with mom, and he provided the love and support that I needed from her. I later learnt that he often reprimanded her for the way that she treated me. A big shift happened for me when I was 16 and dad was diagnosed with liver cancer. He had to get a transplant and he was not sure if he would make it. Just before the operation, he gave me his phone and the pin code, he told me who to call and what to say to them. He also gave me a list of all his bank accounts, assets, and his attorney. He told me how to take care of my little brother, who was only two years old at the time. I listened attentively. I stayed stayed composed and I took note of everything he had said. Somehow I knew that none of this information was necessary, I had faith that he would make it out alive and that things would go back to normal. He did, but nothing went back to normal. I realised then that mom was not dad's person. He could not count on her. He had trusted and valued me more his wife. I realised that I was his person. This was uncomfortable at first, but it quickly grew on me and never before had I been so sure of myself and my value. After high school I went to university in Cape Town. Hardly 3 months after my departure dad came to speak to me about "the situation at home". Things had gotten ugly between my parents and they were no longer sleeping in the same room. He asked me not to come home for the April holidays and promised to send money for me to explore the city. I obliged. When I did go home during the longer June holidays, things were tense and mom was even meaner than I remembered. I had failed all but one of my first semester modules and this gave her even more reason to treat me like Satan's spawn. The helper was my confidant at the time and she took it upon herself to update me on everything that had occured in my absence. Mom found out that dad had been living a double life and the he had another family down the road. She did not take it well. She suffered a mini stroke and then turned to church for solace. It was a mess. When I confronted dad, he denied it. He still thinks I do not know the truth, but he is doing a lousy job at hiding it and the helper has kept me up to date over the years. I moved back home after completing my degree and this is when I became my little brother's crutch. Between dad's affairs and mom's eminent preparations for doomsday, my brother was neglected. He began to suffer from anxiety and depression, and I was all he had. I could not move out until he was okay. COVID 19 forced my dad to stay at home. It was during this time that I came to learn how toxic he had become. It became clear that he only wanted me to become a property lawyer because he wanted free legal services, as he is a developer. I have been shocked a few times during lockdown but nothing tore my heart to pieces like the day I got accepted for an MSc in Ofxord University and dad completely divorced himself from paying tuition. My father and I are in a better place. One day we will have very honest conversations about his life. In the meantime, I have had to learn to love and respect him as his daughter.