Sirens and shouts wail outside as you look up from repotting your money-plant (it has not lived up to its name at all), its wilting nature resembling your life at the moment. You think, “at least I don’t have to go to class in the heat,” but the sporadic bursts of rain do nothing to improve your mood or environment. The sky, now hostile with the presence of deadly helicopters, does not hold the same beauty as a monsoon sunset always does in your country.
In a uniquely challenging situation such as this, you would normally look up on the internet what to do during a blackout…but you also happen to be a citizen of a country that takes great pleasure in shutting down the network whenever their delicate sensibilities are hurt by people demanding their rights. Instead, you try out several things to somehow pass the eight (-plus) hours you’d usually spend scrolling through social media.
- Read a book
You choose to start a novel that had been gathering dust, its glossy title staring at you balefully from the corner of your shelf. You feel guilty as you gingerly pick it up, thinking back to when you bought it—promising yourself you’d finish it in the next two days. That promise was made two years ago.
Forcing reverence, you try to read through the first few pages, but your attention starts to drift towards your phone. You stare at it charging (who knows when the electricity might follow the net?) and your heart pangs at the thought of all the things you’re missing out. Images flash through your head— your favourite singer’s new album release, your American cousin’s dog’s adorable picture, your sister who’s stuck at her in-laws’ place during the curfew, your last worried texts to your friend telling him to be careful after he mentioned joining the protests with his brother…
The book lies beside your pillow, accepting its fate of being forgotten once more.
- Join your mother’s obsession with balcony gardening
You, restless with unspent energy, hang out with your mother in the balcony as she waters her beloved belly phool. She takes one look at your disheveled bed hair and says disdainfully, “There is a reason why my plants are better behaved kids over you and your sister.” You roll your eyes at her tone—her bad mood stems from the argument you two had at lunch over joining the rallies with your friends. She wouldn’t let you go, her eyes glazing over at the thought of the children your age being shot in the streets.
Before you can try to reasonably explain things to her again, your father catches the two of you, having just gotten off the phone with his brother who dutifully informed him of rumours of a rising death toll flying around, and no way to confirm anything. He drags the two of you inside and hurriedly shuts the door to the balcony.
- Eat ice-cream for lunch
On the third day of the internet blackout, you accompany your father to the nearby grocery shop. The streets you were once familiar with like the back of your hand is deserted, the eerie silence following your every step. The uneasiness in the air is palpable.
He buys the grocery, but no one is in the mood to cook or eat. So, you pitch the ice-cream option instead. At home, you explain the atmosphere outside to your mother, a knife gliding through the frozen cream and your burgeoning anxiety. The cold vanilla with chocolate chips almost managed to calm you down.
- Text your beloveds in a prehistoric language
You call your sister and try to make her jealous about your childish meal that you somehow convinced your parents into trying. She says to only share the necessary information as you need to save your balance. She warns that everyone is being monitored.
You don’t tell her the reason you called was to complain that you had no one to play scrabble or UNO with, and that all of a sudden indulging in the simple joys of life seems discourteous to the struggles of those being arrested and tortured, but forming the words “I miss you” feels too final.
Annoyed with her sound advice though, you recalcitrantly spend your balance by texting your concerned American cousin: “0 net rn only censrd TV news. Big Grndmther’s wtchng us XD”
- Watch a movie
Your family joins you for the first time in your 2am adventures of staying-awake-for-no-reason. Though tonight, none of you can go to sleep as the sound of thunder (or were they gunshots you wonder? It’s getting harder to delude oneself) rings out occasionally in a distant neighbourhood.
You plug in your laptop to the TV and put on a movie because, frankly, you’re all sick of watching Tritiyo Matra every night. You lie to your father about not having any pirated Schwarzenegger movie when he asks and instead attempt to get into Aaj Robibar—usually a hit during family movie nights.
However, somewhere between the scenes of Anees Bhai’s snake-scare and Dadajaan wielding a gun comically, you notice your mother shoot worried glances outside at the dorm for university students on the opposite street, where the police carried out raids according to your building’s guard. Outside of the comfort zone of old Bangla TV shows, there was no way of verifying who was shooting or who was getting shot, who was chasing and who was being chased, but that wasn’t any Dadajaan’s pistol or Russell’s Viper for sure.
You sigh and pause the comedy none of you could laugh at in that moment, and decide on V for Vendetta. Finally glued to a screen, all three of you watch the movie till the end.
When the internet comes back on the 24th of July, 2024, selfishly, you check your Duolingo streak first (seven days knocked off in your 235-days streak). You smile after hearing your mother in the next room thanking God for loading her favourite Nepali YouTube vlogger’s video.
At long last, you apprehensively stare at the Facebook news feed load, and brace yourself before looking at the live videos coming out straight from the battleground.
Shehreen Islam is a journalist.