By Melvin Eapen
Never had it occurred to young Hamlet that the air he breathed was so shared. The virus’s stain spread in it like an inkdrop in water. With Polonius’ death, all were convinced that the pandemic had no reverence for office. His son whined at how they discarded his body; no rituals or ceremony, like a thing unholy. The daughter, warned by her father’s disease, took to isolation, singing of the old man and her lover denied.
Hamlet passes her room with heavy heart; already weighed by his father’s suspicious demise and now the journey to Wittenberg cancelled. He witnesses the king, filling the chapel with words of an old guilt mixed with fears for his regime. The king fumbled to change subject.
“Hamlet, my kin… do wear a mask for everyone’s sake.”
“Ay sir, I will. But not well as you mask yourself.”
Hamlet walks on. The thought that himself could be a potential host, a murderer- like his uncle, in this grand tragic script plagued him. The Globe churned below his feet. The whole of humanity stood there with him, threatened by the same enemy. They could only hope that this may not end as if penned by the Elizabethan.
By Melvin Eapen
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