Taking walks every evening after work in my neighbourhood I almost forget that there is a bad spirit looming over our heads these days. Yesterday was one of those great, cold days when even before sunset everything was lashed by almost sub-zero chills. As I stepped out of the house, feeling warm in the hand-knit sweater my mother made for my twenty third birthday, I forgot my jacket. After two days of weekend lockdowns, I was immensely content to gorge on the sight of so many people warming up in the sun. It was almost as if Sunday was two seasons ago and the desolation of Delhi in its curfewed winter belonged to a different time altogether.

As I reached the park, and made my way through its turned in lawns, smeared muddy with manure and tilling, a sharp cold teared first through my arms and then my chest. I wrapped my arms around myself and realised that I’d not been wearing my jacket. Quickly I retraced my steps and headed towards the house to bring the thin wind-cheater jacket out. On my way, an abundance of crows scared me. I’ve always been scared of them, and so managing my distance from them, I made my way faster back to the house.

Once I had the jacket on, I didn’t mind anything so much. I had my phone and my bluetooth headphones. Sheila Heti talking on my headphones about one of her old, old books on this 2012 episode of a podcast. I felt the protection of being watched by other people. The warmth of outsiders’ care. I had the small neighbourhood to me, its incessant construction noises and smells of nothing yet something smother me gently.