THE LOCKDOWN - LOVE

 

           THE LOCKDOWN LOVE - RAHA

Satish, sharp lines and spreadsheet minds, arrived in Bangalore from Tamil Nadu with a detailed plan for his engineering degree. Tarannum, all fluid color palettes and boundless curiosity, landed from Mumbai ready to challenge any structure her design course threw at her. They met not in a lab or a studio, but under the blazing sun of the orientation tent, their name tags sticking to their chests like foreign labels. She smiled at his meticulously organized binder; he was fascinated by the charcoal smudges on her thumb.

Their love was built on the quiet grind of shared study sessions—his logic untangling her complex assignments, her creativity inspiring him to look beyond the parameters. Bangalore became the backdrop: late-night dosa runs, the scent of jasmine and earth after rain in Lalbagh, and Satish teaching Tarannum how to navigate the city’s winding streets on his slightly rusty scooter. Each ride was a promise.

Four years later, degrees secured, they pooled their first salaries and found their haven: a sun-drenched, two-bedroom flat in Koramangala. It was an imperfect space, smelling faintly of old varnish and new beginnings. They filled it with Tarannum's vibrant artwork and Satish's sturdy, functional furniture. They were professionals now, carving their niche—Satish in tech, Tarannum in a design agency—but their true partnership bloomed over weak coffee and shared dreams in their cozy kitchen.

Then, the world stuttered. The sudden, absolute silence of the 2020 lockdown replaced the city's frantic hum. Their 1200 square feet became the known universe. The initial novelty faded, replaced by the relentless, dizzying presence of the other. The challenge wasn't loneliness; it was too much togetherness. Small things, a misplaced charging cable, the volume of a video call, became the battlefield.

Yet, isolation also distilled them. They learned the precise rhythm of the other’s breathing, the unspoken signals of stress and comfort. Satish would meticulously organize Tarannum's digital files; Tarannum would quietly leave a mug of perfectly brewed lemon tea on Tarannum's desk. They built a ritual of sunset walks on their tiny balcony, watching the empty cityscape below. They realized they weren’t just surviving the confinement; they were deepening into it.

One rainy Tuesday, mid-lockdown, while sharing a burnt cheese toastie, Satish looked at Tarannum, truly saw her, tired but incandescent, framed by their familiar living room. "This," he said, gesturing around their small world, "This is where we belong. Why wait for the world to start turning again?" The question hung in the humid air. Tarannum's smile was the answer. They decided on an 'Apartment Wedding', intimate, immediate, and utterly theirs.

The wedding day arrived, stripped bare of spectacle, rich with meaning. Their closest friends stood in the living room, spaced apart, while family zoomed in from Mumbai and Tamil Nadu, their faces tiling the laptop screen propped on a tripod. Tarannum wore a simple silk sari; Satish, a kurta gifted by his mother. They exchanged vows not under a mandap, but beneath the ceiling fan, promising permanence in a time of radical instability.

Life, slowly, began to expand again, but their apartment remained the sacred center. Their marriage was woven into the fabric of Koramangala in the uneven parquet floor, the paint chipped during their first argument, the spot where they took their vows. A year after the Apartment Wedding, the planning gave way to waiting. Waiting for the most profound change yet, already knowing that whatever happened next, their small space would hold them.

Raha arrived late one spring morning. Raha, meaning ‘peace’ and ‘comfort.’ She was tiny, demanding, and utterly transformative. When Satish first held her, wrapped tightly in a soft blanket, looking down at his daughter, he felt a sudden, fierce rush of understanding: all the spreadsheets, all the meticulous planning, had prepared him only for this beautiful chaos. Tarannum watched them, exhausted but whole.

Now, the sun-drenched flat echoed with a new sound: the low, contented gurgle of their daughter. Satish and Tarannum, the engineer and the artist, sat side-by-side, watching Raha nap in the crib placed precisely where the laptop once stood for the Zoom wedding. From strangers meeting at orientation, through the confinement of a world crisis, they hadn't just built a life; they had built a lineage. Their journey proved that even the smallest spaces, when filled with enduring love, can hold the whole wide world.

QUARANTINE TO FOREVER💓