I was thinking about our early days in Bangalore. How, once again, life had settled into a quiet rhythm. My daughter would go to school, hubby would go to office, leaving the two of us — Adi and me — to have lots and lots of fun.
Most of Adi’s time was spent in the kitchen with me. While I cooked and went about other chores, he would play with the drawers, potatoes, onions, tomatoes — and what not. Once I was done, we used to do so many activities together. He would follow Shilpa (my help) around as she cleaned the house. My days were filled to the brim with Adi- and I loved every bit of it.
We had found a good doctor nearby. Though he had to take medication daily, I felt grateful that the meds were working and his seizures were fewer. By then, we had started being thankful for even the tiniest positives. Every “normal” day felt like a win.
Then my husband decided to go to Singapore for a startup program. I was apprehensive — scared, honestly — about being alone here with the two kids. What if something happened to Adi while he was away? How would I manage alone with two kids in a new city?
And then just a month after he left, Covid happened.
I was new to Bangalore, alone with both kids and no family nearby. It was an extremely scary time. There was so much misinformation in the beginning, and my thoughts often spiraled into dark places. What scared me most wasn’t just the virus—it was the fear that something might happen to me. That haunting thought: If something happens to me, what will happen to my kids? It kept me awake on too many nights.
Everyone in the apartment was confined to their own homes. Movement was restricted to buying essentials. No walks, no help, no visitors. I had to single-handedly cook, clean, care for the kids, and do everything else. By the end of the day, I would be completely drained — physically and mentally. It was a time unlike anything we had ever known.
I stopped watching the news—it was just fueling my anxiety. I told myself: All I can do is look after us—keep the kids safe, happy, healthy—until this storm passes. I focused on what we did have: a home, food on the table, safety. Gratitude became my anchor.
And that shift helped. I began to feel grateful for what we had — a safe home, food on the table, clothes to wear. It grounded me.
Even now, thinking about that time gives me goosebumps, I still feel that fear..
But, we survived, and this time reminded me of what truly matters—love, resilience, and the quiet strength that carries us through the hardest days.
I saw how deeply I loved, how fiercely I protected, and how much strength I carried — without even knowing it.