It was 13th March 2020.
The somber daylights of Kathmandu began to fall on its laid-back lane and concurrently my phone rang repeatedly.
My entire ambit turned upside down with this abrupt phone call, saying to terminate all ongoing work and get back to Dhaka on the earliest flight as Coronavirus was declared pandemic and sustained the risk of further global spread. That was the first time I felt unnerved.
But the flights were getting cancelled continuously and unknowingly. It was very uncertain and strangling till the last rescue flight from Dhaka found its landing strip in Kathmandu on the gloomy afternoon of 19th March.
When I returned back to Dhaka, I was given 14 days of obligatory quarantine but I couldn't get back to my home as it was full empty; my family was out of town. Consequently, I begun counting my days at my aunt's quarter.
It was an unknown environ where everything discontinues and remains dormant; the isolation felt quite heavy. I recurrently envisage mother’s grip, her hair in my hair, her wrinkled texture in my skin; I’m more of her while in distant.
In the fullness of time, my subliminal little bird started to mourn with a blue lullaby but cannot fly anymore. Thus, this work imagines a fictitious extension where these monochromic dispositions construct my intuitive materiality.