Point of view

 The point really is, the view was muted. Slowly turning into a cockroach from a human form, the stinging loneliness that Franz Kafka describes in his Metamorphosis was something I certainly considered during this time.

Rewind to the wired days - where phone calls were the only use for a phone, quite a matter of fact way of putting that device to work - except in 2026, Siri was asked to dial the contacts : I wanted to avoid even the slightest screen-view.

There is our transistor that still does it work very effectively of keeping me current with news and added a flavour of entertainment through its chosen playlist.

Reading was out of question too, there is only so much the right eye could humbly sustain and offer as assistance - asking for it be able to read and demand additional favours was sacrilege!

Quite literally confined to a corner akin to COVID-19 quarantine, the eye had to be nursed from a state of being shut to opening slowly each day like a famished crop. 

Rewind to the incident that led to the quarantine: an infectious conjunctivitis virus in the eye that severely extended beyond the cornea, impacting the eyeball: eye in discussion: left. Unlike the hands, the eye cannot be isolated with the exception - oh thank God, it’s just the left eye. For we cannot possibly differentiate which eye is used most, after all.

The infection certainly decided to get the worst of me - tearing the eye even without being instigated to cry - at one point in time, there was no difference between shedding tears vs. the discharge from the infected eye. Tearing up was better because only I would know it and wouldn’t be asked anything about it.

What if someone made a green chilly paste and used it for medicinal administration instead of the actual eyedrops prescribed? That’s how the left eye burnt and stung agonisingly, quite literally. The eye had to work its way through the worst before it could get better. 

Through sheets of paste-like formation almost blinding the eye, it’s better it remained shut for maintenance. From being blurred to attaining clarity, was a journey that would go down in my mind for the rest of my life. 

For retrospective and reflection to happen, there’s no requirement for the eye to be open: muted view was rather favourable: fewer things to see, meant lesser distraction. Thinking of John Milton’s Paradise Lost and a work he wrote later in gratitude - Paradise Regained if I recall right - a poem from school days, was a natural mental mapping. Each time there was a hot flash of discharge pouring through the eye, Rama Nama and Apadhudharaka Slokam was the guiding force to help me stay put in patience without complaining or even a word of mention - for this was quite an examination for endurance, patience, resilience and at the end of the day, test on my belief in the power of Apadhudharaka Slokam during times of distress.

The eye thus took its natural course to get back into being functional. Lessons learnt were aplenty - particularly on patience and resilience - for it isn’t just about waiting, it’s the attitude that you keep through the thick and thin. Rightly so, on Vishu day, the “Kani” felt like a reward for my patience: queues snaked through the premises of Dhanvanthri Temple (God-form of Medicine): without a doubt we had possibly the quickest entry to viewing Krishnaavatharam form of the ruling deity there - Dhanvanthri Himself! Hantha Bhagyam Jananam (how fortunate I was)!

In today’s terms - Just my POV! :)