In the hands of others

A place you live and called it your home,
Even a cup of water you drink in there,
A plate of food you eat in there,
A catnap you take in there;
The calmness and the peacefulness reserves within you,
Because you call it your home.
In the hands of others; whoever may be,
Even our parents, the longer you live,
Depending upon their way of living,
The calmness and peace is lost,
Longing for our home,
Which everybody calls it homesick.
A day or two is understandable for them,
And we too adjust with whatsoever. But:
When you have no options due to lockdown,
When the easing of lockdown is inevitable,
When your registration for stranded people is pending,
When you were eagerly waiting for SMS / call from the task force,
When you contact 1010 every time and they give the same answers:
Only emergencies (death and illness) are considered for now;
Wonder how far we will get to stay in others' hands.
I am lucky here to have my in-law with a big apartment,
How many are there without a proper stay?
What are the numbers who came by to attend the sick?
How many came here for meetings/workshops/seminars/shopping?
Are they all lucky? Definitely Not.
More than Covid-19,
Mental health, social issues, family problems are reported.
With mere luck,
I am hoping to get back to my home after testing (–) ve in Covid-19,
Home quarantine for a week is mandatory,
Before I mingle with my colleagues,
The only fear I have in my mind;
If I will be treated like an Alien.

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