Peaceful conditions at home are central to peaceful existence. After a tired days work, we would all love to cozy up to our nest of comfort called home. Before matrimonial commitments, peace at home was inversely proportional to cleanliness. If my living quarters was suddenly very clean, it only signaled the imminent arrival of my parents or any of my relatives. If things were scattered all over the place, it just meant one thing. Freedom.

            Bachelor life entails hopping hotels from breakfast to lunch to dinner. Married life suddenly pushes “going out to eat” only to weekends. Then all things have to fall in line with that one single most important commodity. The quintessential gas cylinder.

 “Essential Commodities Act” is implemented full time at home post marriage. Maintaining adequate stock of additional gas cylinder at home is very much top priority. With 2 brats at home, their food preparations only add to the excitement. The impending COVID-19 lockdown also added to the excitement.

Scene 1: Act 1: Prelude

It is a bit annoying when the gas booking agency change their numbers. The automated Interactive Voice Response System (IVRS) (that’s a mouthful!!) can get a bit exasperating. I would like to confess that I am an absent minded professor. I’m gifted.

Unfortunately, this gift came to the fore when I was booking a gas cylinder just days before lockdown 1.0. At the end of the call, the system did not generate a SMS message confirming booking. I thought I will check later and that particular “later” never came. There were all sorts of news about what would be/would not be available during lockdown. Hence the confusion, hence the panic.

Scene 1: Act 2: Announcement

Lockdown 1.0 announced. Panic sets in, anxiety creeps in. Just out of curiosity, I called up the gas booking agency to ‘confirm’ my booking. Much to my surprise/anguish, the lady at the other end of the phone could not locate my order. The lady, however, was kind enough to ask me to place the order again and the cylinder will be delivered in 2 days flat. Surprise!! Surprise!! That lady was very courteous. She must be a new recruit I thought. That strange feeling when the external examiner is very friendly to the student!! Anyways, I just followed her instructions and placed the order by using the “new” phone number of the agency. This time I did get a confirmatory message.

Scene 2: D-day

Lockdown 1.0, day # 1. On the groggy morning of COVID-19’s global act, I woke up feeling thankful that I don’t have to go to work and save the world. Television was beaming frightening pictures of lockdown from the second most populous nation in the world. India. Breakfast was late, laziness was in the air, mind was sluggish, and it just felt like another Sunday. It was then that my wife told me those 3 most important words that couples use very frequently after marriage. “Enquire about gas”.

            The lady at the gas agency told me that they were facing “manpower shortage” and if I wanted, I could collect it personally. Sounded fine. This meant only one thing. I had to go there and ……Wait!! Wait!! Wait!! I had to go out on day # 1 of lockdown!! My wifey did ask me If I need to take the regulator along with the empty cylinder. Sometimes the two do not get along well with each other. Pulling out the regulator from the gas tube is like open heart surgery, fraught with extreme risks, dangers and peril. I just said no and off I went. Something was just not seeming right.

Scene 3: Off the blocks

Right on day # 1 of lockdown, I hit the roads of Mangalore, with an empty gas cylinder in the rear seat and with 4 documents which told me who I was, where I lived and how I looked. Proof. I was also having the most important thing in the whole world on me. The mask. Thanks to COVID-19, the mask is now an integral and inseparable part of our bodies. I decided to take out my old 2011 model alto that was purchased when India was playing against Pakistan in 2011 world cup. Roads were empty then. Roads were empty now. Strange I thought.

I drove to the gas agency, which was less than 1 km. away from my house. The lady there courteously filled in the payment receipt and courteously told me that I have to collect the gas cylinder from their depot located in the outskirts of the city. Wokay!! Thank you very much!! And off I drove to the depot.

Scene 4: Act 1: Street-view

I was not prepared to witness what I was about to on my way to the depot. The whole city was empty. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Few policemen were scattered here and there. It was desolate. It was unnerving. It was uneasy. What would take me around 30 minutes took me just 5 minutes. I reached there in no time.

Given Mangalore’s hilly terrain, the depot is nested right below the highway. The access road to the depot from the highway is the exact opposite of highway. Very narrow, very steep, very unsettling. But the Schumacher from deep within me urged me to just chug on!! So I descended into the depot. A short, thin guy donning a makeshift mask manifested himself from nowhere in no time. I just showed him the receipt and he understood.

Scene 4: Act 2: Pit stop

I was happy to receive the dear darling gas cylinder, loaded it in the rear seat and turned on the ignition of the car. It didn’t respond. I took a deep breath and tried again. No response. I pleaded to the Almighty and tried again. No response. I waited for a few uneasy seconds and tried again. No response. Phewww!! Don’t tell me. . The was clearly “out of syllabus” question in the question paper.

The good-Samaritan-depot-guy volunteered to help me. I glanced at his thin frail frame. I didn’t utter a word. I gleefully sat on the drivers’ seat. The terrain was very uneven and after the valiant push from the depot guy, I put the car on gear and left the clutch and pushed the accelerator. No response. Just a very jerky stop.

The depot guy then told me we can try this behind the depot. The terrain there would give Mars’s terrain an inferiority complex and was truly ‘out of the world’. After negotiating the valleys and slopes behind the depot, we tried to push-declutch-accelerate. No response. My car too had decided to religiously comply with lockdown!!

The depot guy then told me he will call a few of his friends who reside nearby, but that might take a few minutes. I informed my higher authorities at home, I called the car service centre. “Manpower shortage”. I checked WhatsApp, Facebook, news, YouTube, everything.

I had nothing to do. Panic set in. There was only silence. I was just 25 yards away from National Highway, which is a part of the nation’s golden quadrilateral. Still, just pin drop silence. Standing all alone in that desolate and deserted place, I could hear my wife shout “I told you….!!” from our home located 5 kms. away. I could see my father shake his head and index finger at me with a big smirk on his face. I could hear all my friends yell “goofball”!!

Slowly panic gave way to nothingness. Those few minutes were easily one of the most memorable moments in my life. Nothing happened during that time. Nothing. I could only hear myself breathe. It was like one of those lucid dreams. You are dreaming, but you are aware that you are dreaming in your dream. I felt nothing. It was like floating in a huge swimming pool. Floating on waves in a seamless expanse of time. Just nothingness. Maybe I was stranded in this desolate depot for this. Just to take myself away from everything. Trance.

My reverie was only broken by 2 men emerging from nearby residences, who were depot man’s friends. I was feeling unconnected and incoherent. They all enthusiastically pushed the car and I managed to get the act together and pressed on the accelerator. My dear darling car finally purred to life. Hurray!! I stopped the car, but kept the engine alive. I thanked all my saviours for their invaluable help. Schumacher resurfaced and I began the ascent from the depot to the highway and crawled my way back home in my 2011 model automobile.

Scene 5: Act 1: Reverie to nightmare

I unloaded the cylinder from the car and realized that the lift in our quarters had gone kaput. My house is perched on the 4^th floor and I faced the insurmountable task of mounting with a loaded gas cylinder. Suddenly I felt that my late breakfast was savoured a long, long, long time ago. I then rendered my humble, respectful remembrances to one and all.

• I cursed COVID-19 and all those responsible for it.
• I cursed whoever had allocated our quarters on the 4^th floor.
• I cursed whoever had invented/discovered such heavy gas cylinders.
• I cursed the god-forsaken automated voice response system for gas booking.
• I cursed the lift for abandoning its services during such trying and testing times.
• I cursed the mouth mask as it had become bothersome.
• I cursed the workers who were (supposed to be) repairing the lift.
• I cursed the governments for lockdown.
• I cursed whoever built such multi-storey residential buildings.
• I cursed mankind for its dependence on materialistic things like gas cylinders, food….
• I cursed…

It’s the hypoglycemia I thought. The ascent was back breaking, energy sapping, and inordinately painful, to say the least.

Strict infection control protocol: we had to sanitize the cylinder. I had lost all my sanity. Then the inevitable happened. The gas regulator refused to fit onto the gas cylinder. I tried all angles, methods and strategies, but in vain. Schuks!!

The writing on the wall was loud and clear. I had to repeat the entire (dumb) charade again. Voila!!

Scene 5: Act 2: Déjà vu

The descent with a fully loaded cylinder too was painful. I decided to dump the alto for the 2015 model Accent for commuting. I had also successfully extracted the regulator from the gas pipe and I was carrying it with me.

I was feeling like a student who is asked to repeat his exercise in practicals/lab. When your best work gets rejected. Ouch!! That can hurt. So I went through the entire exercise again. I met the courteous lady at gas booking office again, who redirected me to the depot, again. I drove through the empty streets of Mangalore again. I descended into the desolate depot again. The depot guy manifested himself again. He understood what had transpired without me uttering a word again. He was diligent enough to check if the regulator fits onto the gas cylinder so that he does not have to see me again. I was happy to receive the new member of our family. Again.

Schumacher emerged again and I drove back to my house soaking in what had just happened again. I parked the car and unloaded the cylinder again. I was feeling hungry again. My entire body was aching again. I had the carry the dear darling cylinder again. Pain. Again.

• When I reached the 1^st floor, I wanted to yell at all those residing there. They had no clue what it meant to carry a gas cylinder all the way upto the 4^th floor. Twice.
• When I reached the 2^nd floor, I just wanted to throw the gas cylinder down. It should land with a loud thud and wake all the idiots glued to the idiot box or sleeping. Why should I suffer? Twice.
• When I reached the 3^rd floor, I just wanted to throw myself down. Life is just a mirage. Its a struggle for nothing. I realized. Twice.
• When I reached the fourth floor, I didn’t know how to react.

• Should I be happy that I successfully managed to book, fetch, replace gas cylinder(s)?
  • Should I be sad due to the painful ordeal that I went through?
  • Should I be angry at the strange chemistry/physics between regulator and gas cylinder or COVID-19 or gas booking system or myself?
  • Should I be relieved that we were successful in welcoming 2 new members to our family during lockdown?
  • Should I be proud for having done the unimaginable? Twice.
  • Should I be philosophical thinking that everything happens for a reason?

But first things first. I ate. I handed over our new heavy baby to the ladies. I just asked for food. I then stood under the shower for some time and later slept. Food and sleep can soothe.

At the end of the day:

A series of rather silly and uncanny events unfolded on day # 1 of lockdown 1.0. My gas booking did not get through, my car broke-down-during-lockdown in the most unlikeliest of places and unlikeliest of times, the lift in my quarters was non-functional, I was marooned in the outskirts of the city in broad daylight, gas regulator was unreasonably angry with the gas cylinder, I unwittingly and inadvertently discovered by weight lifting skills. Too many gasps for a day. These incidents can have many takes, interpretations, angles, blah, blah, blah. Hindsight is a luxury that one cannot afford.

I realized the value of small “big” things in life. Food-shelter-family-love. They all add to the jig-saw puzzle called life. I realized the importance of “me-time”. Just being alone in a remote, isolated and desolate depot showed me my place. Driving through the streets of Mangalore, I realized the small liberties that we were going to miss henceforth. I realized the importance of that man-made contraption called lift. Gas cylinder is a very important family member and I realized the “weight” of the matter. Twice.

More importantly, I realized what the gas booking agency lady meant when she said “two days flat”. She meant that at the end of 2 days, I will be flat. I followed her hint diligently. I slept like a log.