Sanitizers for the insane

We have had an interesting couple of weeks. I have tried to ward off potential covid infections by diligently washing my hands right up till my elbow. The tune suggested by the seers on Whatsapp is 'Happy Birthday to you' sung twice over, but I live with gen Z. They have a socially more relevant and peppy song. The song in flavour, in our house is 'Waving flag' by K'naan, the lyrics of which have been suitably MODIfied. It goes like this:

Give me freedom, give me fire,

I will give you sanitizer.

Watch out will you, there's a spider

Stinging every-one beside her

I have been trying my level best to protect myself, to the extent of even earning the neighbour's ire with my loud and repetitive rendition of this tuneful but senseless song, I had not factored however, the excessive love my little one has for me. She includes me in everything that afflicts her. The CDC unfortunately, hasn't yet given guidelines on how to protect yourself from kids who happily sneeze into your eyeballs. I am in the process of writing to them to inform them of this grave oversight but short of walking around in helmets- ISI mark of course, I'm not sure what other solution they can come up with. I have some friends who inform me that the solution existed many years ago and I didn't heed it and these are the consequences. Viral infection, they inform me, is in fact, the gentler form of suffering.

The last two weeks have seen us indulge in hectic activity within the four walls of our now messy apartment. Some might compare it to a Vietnamese war field but they would be wrong. We have no dead bodies. Just deadly bodies. A little bloated from lack of exercise, I admit, but when one is staring war in the teeth, this kind of disfigurement is our medal of distinction that we must wear ever so proudly. Yep we don't buckle over, we glare at the grim reaper, aware that there are still many movies that we haven't yet caught up on.

We have tried to make psychedelic music videos, and learnt magic tricks, encountered monkeys since human guests have stopped visiting us and played a board game called chickapigs, the high point of which is putting a cow's poop in the opponent's path. I did say our week has been interesting. Before you snigger, I will have you know that people have been hawking cow dung and urine at 500 rupees a kilo/litre as protection against the maleficent virus. Our games are also staying abreast of cutting edge scientific research, marketed by careful interpretation of ancient scripts by new age gurus; and we will survive not just social distancing but family closer-ing.