When the Breeze Brushes By

Lakshmi Priya’s POV

The morning sun always had a sweet, dramatic way of barging into my bedroom, acting like it owned the place! Soft, golden light filtered through my cheerful pink lace curtains, practically doing a happy dance across my wooden floorboards. It was the kind of warm, picturesque morning that made you want to stretch, sigh happily, and pretend you were the main character in a cozy slice-of-life movie.

I blinked away the morning sleepiness and immediately started my daily ritual: the blind, frantic hand-pat on the nightstand to locate my spectacles. Aha! Found you! I slid the frames onto my nose, and instantly, the blurry, dreamy world snapped into crisp, beautiful HD clarity.

I peeked over at the adjacent bed and giggled. My younger brother was completely engulfed in a gigantic mountain of blankets, snoring softly like a content little puppy. Poor kid—he had just finished his grueling 12th-grade board exams a couple of days ago! For the first time in an entire year, his brain wasn’t being tortured by physics formulas or chemistry equations. He was sleeping with the kind of pure, unbothered peace that only a post-exam survivor could truly enjoy. I lovingly decided not to throw a pillow at him today and let him sleep in.

I bounced out of bed and tackled my morning routine with my usual energy. One hot, refreshing shower later, I changed into a comfy, bright yellow cotton kurti, pulled my hair up into a neat, bouncy ponytail, and skipped down the hallway toward the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.

“Good morning, Amma!” I chirped, practically zooming into her workspace.

Amma was in full boss-mode, her hands moving like magic as she stirred a sizzling pan of tempered mustard seeds, curry leaves, and fresh breakfast goodness. She turned and gave me that warm, dimpled smile that could instantly cure any bad mood. “Good morning, my bright girl! Sleep well? Your morning coffee is almost ready.”

Before I could grab a cup and start my morning chatter, a sharp, worried voice boomed from the living room.

“ Lakshmi! Come here for a second—look at this!”

It was Appa. And when Appa uses his serious ‘drop-everything-right-now’ voice, you don’t walk—you trot! Amma and I exchanged a puzzled look, wiped our hands on kitchen towels, and hurried out. Appa was standing right in front of the TV, leaning in so close to the screen his nose was practically touching it. His morning news routine was usually a quiet affair, but today, the news anchor looked visibly shaken, speaking at a million miles an hour.

I squeezed in next to Appa, squinting at the big, flashing red text running across the bottom of the screen: GLOBAL EMERGENCY: NOVEL CORONAVIRUS SPREADS RAPIDLY.

Wait, Corona? Like... the sun’s corona?

The news anchor was talking about a mysterious, super-contagious virus that was jumping from country to country like a world traveler on a mission. The TV broadcast showed surreal footage of empty streets in giant foreign cities, people wearing heavy-duty masks, and scientists in full hazmat suits. It looked like a high-budget Hollywood blockbuster trailer, except it was live, real, and happening right now.

Appa shook his head, looking deeply concerned. “They’re saying it spreads through simple human contact. It’s moving like wildfire.”

Amma immediately folded her arms, her maternal ‘protective radar’ instantly turning up to a hundred. “Oh, dear Lord,” she gasped, her eyes wide. “I thought those WhatsApp messages were just silly rumors! Lakshmi, this is serious.”

“Amma, Appa, don’t worry so much!” I said, trying to sprinkle a little optimism into the room. “It’s probably just a temporary flu scare. Media loves a dramatic story!”

I glanced up at the clock and gasped. Yikes! Time was flying! “Oh gosh, I am going to be so late for my train!”

I dashed back to my room, snatched my favorite floral canvas tote bag, and grabbed my English literature notes. But just as I reached the front door, Amma intercepted me like a professional football defender, holding two items in her hands like holy relics: a small, clear bottle of hand sanitizer and a freshly washed cloth mask.

“You are not leaving this house without these, Lakshmi Priya,” she commanded, planting her feet. “I watched the news for an hour. You will wear this mask on the train, and you will drown your hands in this alcohol gel every time you touch a handrail! Understand?”

I couldn’t help but laugh at her adorable, hyper-cautious mood. “Amma, I’m going to look like a paranoid ninja!” But seeing her stern face, I dutifully slid the sanitizer into my tote and tied the mask straps behind my ears. “See? Ninja mode activated! Bye Amma!”

I stepped out into the crisp, sunlit morning air, my feet moving in a brisk, familiar rhythm toward the railway station. I honestly loved my morning commute. Being a second-year Master’s student in English Literature, I spent half my life reading dense poetry and thick novels, so my daily solo walk was my sacred ‘me-time.’ I loved tuning into the sounds of the neighborhood, watching the morning birds, and letting my imagination wander.

However, today... the vibe was completely off.

The usual cheerful banter outside the local tea stall was gone. Instead, small groups of uncles were huddled together over their hot chai, whispering anxiously while scrolling through their phones. People walking past me were giving each other weird, suspicious side-eyes, keeping an extra foot of distance on the sidewalk. The air felt heavy, buzzing with a strange, nervous electricity.

When I arrived at the train station, it was just as chaotic as ever, but an uncanny hush had fallen over the crowd. I boarded my usual local train and managed to snag my absolute favorite spot: the cozy window seat!

As the train chugged to life and rattled along the tracks, cool air rushed through the open window, fluttering my hair. Usually, this train compartment was a lively circus of laughing college kids, gossiping office workers, and noisy snack vendors selling crispy samosas. Today? Dead silent. Almost everyone was staring at their phone screens, their faces lit up by the glow of breaking news updates.

A couple of women sitting across from me leaned in close to chatter.

“My cousin in IT says their entire office is shutting down!” one whispered loudly. “They’re making everyone work from their bedrooms!”

“No way!” the other gasped. “Shutting down the city? Is that even allowed?”

I pulled out my notebook to review my notes on post-colonial poetry, but I couldn’t focus. I kept fiddling with the edges of my cloth mask, feeling the warm rise and fall of my own breath. A tiny knot of anxiety began to tangle itself in my stomach. Is the world really changing that fast?

By the time the train pulled into my station, I hopped off and joined the stream of students walking toward our campus. The grand, historic gates of our all-women’s college stood tall and proud, looking as regal as ever. Usually, entering these gates felt like stepping into a safe, empowering bubble filled with laughter, art, and bright futures.

But today, the bubble felt like it was about to pop.

The moment I stepped onto the grassy courtyard, I spotted my girl gang standing near our favorite big stone pillar: Ishu, Viji, and Subha! They weren’t their usual laughing, energetic selves. They were gathered in a tight, panicked circle, staring at Ishu’s phone like it was a ticking time bomb.

“Hey girls!” I called out, trotting over and pulling down my mask to catch my breath. “What’s the emergency meeting about?”

Subha whirled around, her eyes practically popping out of her head. “Lakshmi! Oh thank goodness you’re here! Have you checked your phone?!”

“No, I was reading on the train... what happened?”

Viji stepped up, shaking her head in utter disbelief. “It’s happening, Lakshmi. It’s not just news drama anymore. It’s real.”

Ishu held up her phone, pointing a trembling finger at a bright red notification banner from a major national news channel.

“Listen to this,” Ishu said, her voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. “The central government, after a urgent emergency meeting with health administrators, is making an official announcement. They are putting the entire country on a complete, strict 14-day lockdown! Self-quarantine for everyone starting immediately!”

“WHAT?!” My jaw practically hit the pavement. “A total lockdown?! For two whole weeks?!”

My brain instantly went into overdrive, running through a chaotic mental checklist of our academic life. We were in our final semester—the grand finale of our degree!

“Wait, wait, wait!” I stammered, panic rising in my chest. “What about our final year thesis?! We have to submit our master’s project next month! How on earth are we supposed to do field research, meet our professors, or print our dissertations if we’re locked inside our houses like prisoners?!”

“Exactly!” Subha groaned, throwing her hands up in the air melodramatically. “And what about our end-semester final exams? Are they cancelled? Postponed? Are they going to make us write exams through our laptops?!”

Viji looked at us all with a heavy, serious expression that instantly silenced our ramblings.

“Guys... forget the exams for a second,” Viji whispered, her voice laced with genuine fear. “Think about what comes after. We are supposed to graduate in two months. We were supposed to go on job hunts, attend campus interviews, and start our careers! If the whole nation shuts down, companies will stop hiring! How are we going to find jobs in the middle of a global quarantine?!”

A heavy, sudden silence fell over the four of us.

Around us, the college campus was buzzing with similar cries of shock and confusion, but in our little circle, time seemed to stand completely still. I looked at my best friends—four ambitious young women ready to conquer the world—now standing in the warm morning sun, completely clueless about what tomorrow would bring.

The adventure of our final year had just taken a wild, crazy, and totally unexpected detour!