Six Thousand Minutes, by Aarefa Johari, Mumbai
Born, raised, and currently living in Mumbai, Maharashtra, Aarefa is a journalist, feminist, activist, and aspiring violinist.
Six thousand minutes. The number flashed on my phone screen and made me blink in astonishment. It was a bright, excited notification from a language-learning app I have been using all year. Apparently, I had spent 6,000 minutes on the app since January, learning over 2,000 words in Italian– a new language I had whimsically chosen off their menu. I paused mid-way through my breakfast and stared at the calendar on my desk. Had I done all of that THIS year? In 2020? But how, and when?
It was the beginning of December, and all I could remember of 2020 was long periods of stress, misery, anxiety, and feelings of inadequacy. In my mind, most of my days after the lockdown were a dense fog of work, sometimes 16 or 17 hours a day. I had gradually given up on the things that gave me joy and a sense of wellbeing: reading, music practice, exercise, creative writing. I was binging on sugar, but– as you can guess– it triggered more self-loathing than happiness.
But somewhere in the middle of all this, I had found time to learn the basics of a whole new language. Clearly, something was missing in the picture of 2020 I had painted for myself. I needed to zoom in a little.
I had started learning Italian when my colleague recommended the language app as a reference for a work project. I picked the language at random, and needed to try out just a few lessons for the work project. But I love languages, so I kept returning to the lessons during my commute to work.
After the lockdown, I joined the rest of the world in trying to make sense of our new reality. As a journalist, I was reporting on the unimaginable crisis facing health workers and migrant laborers. At home, I had to deal with male family members who described the absence of a maid as a “crisis.” All routines had to be tossed out the window, but I had unconsciously created one tiny new routine.
Every morning, I’d sit at my work desk with my breakfast– a plate of scrambled eggs or a bowl of oats. Then, with a spoon in one hand and my phone in the other, I’d dive into an Italian lesson. I had 10, maybe 15 minutes to give, and then ciao– work would take over.
I had stuck to this routine for eight months, through some of my hardest mental health days. The days when work felt unbearable, when I had multiple breakdowns, and when I wanted to physically smash the patriarchy. I had kept up the language lessons even when we all had COVID-19 in the family, when my partner and grandfather were in the hospital, and I needed an escape to soothe my fears.
I still stick to this breakfast routine. But until that notification flashed on my phone, I had forgotten the weight of those few stolen moments every day. Moments that add up to 6000 minutes. If you do the math, that’s just a little over four days.
I had acquired a new language in the span of four days, and had barely perceived my achievement. What other unseen lessons has 2020 taught me? I’m learning to take off my lens of self-pity, so I can find out.
_________________________
(This story was prepared for an “Imagine Another World” online storytelling workshop held December 16, 2020.)
Protect yourself and others from COVID-19: wear a face covering over your nose and mouth, practice physical distancing from other people, and avoid settings that are crowded, indoors, or involve close contact. More information about how to stay healthy.
