October 30, 2020: The day that will forever be etched in my memory.

It was the day I left China on a special flight organized by the Indian government to fly its citizens back home during the first wave of COVID-19 pandemic.

The Air India flight, which took off in the wee hours from Wuhan, Hubei province, was, incidentally, the last direct India-bound flight from China. After arriving in New Delhi in the morning, I set off immediately on another flight to my hometown Bangalore, and to a tearful family reunion.

Exactly two years and four months later, I was on another flight, this time in the opposite direction. To Beijing.

There was one common factor in the exit as well as return: both were fraught with challenges.

Before I left from Wuhan, I had twice been denied boarding permission by different airlines in Shanghai in early October, forcing my return to Beijing, a distance of some 1,200 kilometers.

The Indian Embassy's announcement a few days after my return from Shanghai that an Air India flight would be arriving in China from New Delhi renewed my hopes.

When the day finally arrived, I kept my fingers crossed until the flight took off from Wuhan on the penultimate day of October. When it did, I breathed a sigh of relief.

The return to Beijing was another daunting task. The problem wasn't the availability of flights, but convincing people — family and friends — that it was the right thing to do.

A mere mention of China raised their eyebrows. I had to counter a volley of questions from people, whose fears about the spread of COVID-19 were further compounded by videos online. Perhaps, the rumors were far more contagious than the virus itself.

Some went to great lengths to persuade me to reconsider. Since I didn't want to disappoint them, I agreed to heed their words of advice.

But I had already made up my mind, and there was no question of reversing my decision.

I took pains to explain to many of them that the stories and visuals they were hearing or seeing about the COVID-19 situation in China shouldn't be taken at face value. Some did see the merits in my argument, but their doubts still persisted.

There was one consolation, though. My family was convinced. Although reluctant, they still gave me the go-ahead.

I had two more hurdles to clear — the visa process, and obtaining the health code before my flight departure. Barring a few minor hiccups, everything went smoothly, and I arrived in Beijing on the second day of March.

Nihao, I said to the driver as I hopped onto the cab at the airport. The drive to the apartment building was a familiar route, but I could sense something amiss.

One of my favorite Italian restaurants located close by sported a new name, and I learned later that the restaurant no longer existed. A popular store and a pharmacy located next to the office had also closed.

As I arrived at the office gate, a warm welcome awaited me from my colleagues, who immediately took me to my apartment, which had been given a face-lift.

Then began my exploration of post-pandemic Beijing. Houhai was the first place that I visited, and I wasn't disappointed. Crowds were back. The lakeside walkways were teeming with people, although it was a weekday.

I had yet another hurdle to cross. Having lost my contacts, as my old WeChat account had expired, I had a hard time retrieving them. Just when I thought there was no hope, a tech-savvy friend was able to retrieve them. I am now fully equipped to reestablish contact with people and the city I now call home once more.