A writer’s block is no surprise for anyone. It happens to everyone and Anil was no different. Writing was his passion though by profession he was a contractor for governmental constructions. In the din of labourers, dust and muck this off and on penning down of thoughts kept  unnecessary stress at bay. Money was good thanks to his diligent team and resources. His workers respected him and treated him as their elder brother most of the time. There was dedication, friendliness and brotherhood that added to the calm in noisy environs. It was easy for him to find a corner and just flow with his thoughts. Cell Phones acted as a boon for this habit of his. Somehow it all suddenly froze adding to his uncontrollable anger. 

Anil Dange loved his work. Giving instructions and managing his team was his forte he felt. A congenial atmosphere helped sail things smoothly often. Only once in a blue moon things used to get murky whenever carelessness found its roots. During festivals it was a recurring thing but things used to get under control normally. Somehow this phase of being unable to write made him edgy and rude which was taken well initially but after three months it was beginning to bite him as well as his team. Many times he used to apologize for his irritable behaviour but now it was becoming a menace all felt. A fine man with good manners, farsightedness and tolerance was turning into an agitated, unhappy and impolite monster and everyone was praying for normalcy to resume. 

Life was treating him good in his 37th year and he was very grateful for the fortune of work that kept coming his way. His girlfriend of two years, Nandita, doted on him and wanted to settle down whenever it worked in their favor. Road trips happened whenever both got a chance. It was not easy to synchronise free days for meetups and travel as Nandita, the same age as him, worked in an illustrious hotel as the chief chef. Her culinary skills used to delight him and he was grateful to have met her accidentally while dining at one of the hotels. A happy tummy aided in flow of words often but Nandita’s magic kept failing in making him write sadly. There was love, understanding, support, acceptance, and care in spite of the mood swings and he felt blessed. 

‘You never want to publish so what’s the fuss about honey?’ asked Nandita.  

‘It’s like a habit like a drug habit you won’t understand no matter how much I explain and elaborate so let it be love.’ frustratingly added Anil. 

Nandita hugged him and continued reading. Anil reciprocated and retired to his room while Nandita spread herself on the couch in the TV room. 

Unsure about his current phase Anil kept staring at the ceiling and in no time zonked off. This became a ritual whenever the lovebirds met.  

By God’s grace Anil had everything. A bachelor pad of his own, loving parents who visited him on his birthday, a good working team and a non stop paying profession. Hard work with sometimes no brakes brought the much needed adventure and then leisure was all the more precious whenever he could indulge. Nandita was the icing on the cake. Government officials did test his patience but there was so much more to be thankful for that he used to overlook it. While waiting for the officer to arrive at the venue for discussion he used to write and kill boredom. Time flew this way and meetings ended up with a positive result. Now in the absence of writing everything just boiled him. Abusive behaviour never surfaced but he started cursing under his breath.

Earlier, whatever he wrote Anil saw to it that he took a printout of it and threaded it and it slowly had become one fat register who no one read nor would be able to read till his last breath. He guarded and kept it where no one could find it easily. Nandita too never had a clue where he used to keep it. Those were his thoughts and only he and his God knew about them. Yes, he was a miser here and didn’t want to bring any change in this trait of his. The thoughts were written sometimes in Hindi, sometimes in English and sometimes in Urdu and he loved this diversity. Some rhymed, some didn’t make any sense but they were his precious treasure. He loved to observe and those observations ended up being jottings for his journal. 

Without writing he felt lost. He felt he was there physically but mentally stuck in some dark tunnel with no light. Perpetual knocking happened but he himself just couldn’t push open the door. It felt like a trap which had caged his soul. He was eating, sleeping, making out but was not living, he introspected. Often he read his journal to rekindle the flow of writing but it just failed to resurface. It bothered him so much that sleep  started becoming an alien to him. Work suffered to a certain extent and he could feel it in his gut. People were struggling all over the globe but they were smiling and their world had not stopped functioning. Anil, on the contrary, started looking at it as a curse which was taking eternity to lift itself from his world. 

Four months elapsed but no lady luck shined on him. He was starving for words to pen them down. A blank paper irked him. His love life too suffered majorly. He was drawing into a shell and was working mechanically with no insight. Prayers too were losing their sheen and touch. Frustration got the better of him now. He had started smoking and his face proved it without much effort. Writing was his first love and he was beginning to realise this fact of his life. This love for writing sought no profits ever. He missed writing and he could do nothing about it. December 2019 sounded different as news channels were talking about a new virus that was killing people. A lot was not known and speculation was ripe. China was in the news for the same reason. Something triggered Anil and he started to take notice. 

For weeks now, he read and consumed every bit of news pertaining to this new virus causing death and restricting freedom. Panic and curiosity were like hand in glove. This was enough to push him to write. When the world was at its wits end, Anil was rejoicing. The gift of writing had returned and tears of joy flowed. The vacant entity now bloomed with thoughts and it left him numb and questionable. There was a standstill. Social life was under some sort of an eclipse. People never could see it coming. No one could guess what hit them. Nandita was at a loss of words whenever she saw Anil so exhilarated. The world was cursing this pandemic but Anil flowed with gratitude and kept reciting within Thank You Covid.