WHO is to blame?

By Esha Chowdhury

-Desolation and powerlessness- the new tenet of the country?

A world which had once considered major gas leaks, twin-tower blow-ups, havoc caused by tsunamis and devastating nuclear mishaps to be “fatal” incidents in modern world history, was welcomed by a series of “waves”, as we call it, of a catastrophic pandemic- the Covid-19. None like the ones that occurred before, this was the most cataclysmal pandemic the world had ever seen. From work turning “online” to thousands losing their jobs, from students’ exams being jeopardized to myriads of “happy homecoming” flights being cancelled, from social gatherings being sabotaged to health-workers committing suicide- I think, we’ve pretty much seen it all. Or have we?

Well in a country like mine, things can get pretty extreme. But if you thought “extreme” had its limits, you’d be sadly mistaken. 2021 saw new “spikes” in the number of Covid cases, and even as I write, India will probably attain a new record by dawn.

A year back, we were asked to maintain “social-distancing” and be “self-reliant” by a man who we then knew to be stalwart and veracious. Not to mention the wondrous moments of mirth we had had while lighting lamps in our balconies, clapping our hands and utensils for five fruitless minutes and turning up our TV volumes high to listen to reassuring speeches sharp at 8pm.

A year has now passed, and the situation has unfortunately nothing but retrograded to a massive extent. We had been following news of deaths on television until last year, but now, Hades and Yama seem to be dancing around every nook and cranny of the country, collecting bodies like collecting crops during fall.

Every day is a battle for survival. Every day to wake up and realise I can breathe free air and haven’t lost my senses of smell and taste is a boon. Because outrageous and terrifying it is to know now, that if I test positive and if my vitals slowly fail to respond, I may not be offered a bed at the hospital. Or even if I am given one, I might just lose out on some oxygen and die like a fish gasping for breath on land. Such, is the naked bloodcurdling truth.

It was a horrid feeling to receive a phone call from a friend at an odd hour, when all she had to tell me was about the demise of our close friend’s mother, a woman who I’ve known from childhood, who has looked upon me as nothing less than her own daughter, at whose place we spent a major chunk of our school life, enjoying get-togethers, birthday parties and later on, reunions.

I have a family full of middle-aged and elderly people living about 2000 kms away from me, who I decided to visit on one of the Saturdays in April, but had to cancel my plan like many others, just so that I did not contract the spiteful disease, or didn’t land home a confident carrier.

I have a mother who has been examining Covid patients since the last one year and like all other doctors, she takes off her coverall suit and the rest of the kit at the end of the day only to find her body soaking in sweat, her face lined with spots in the shape of the masks she had been wearing throughout the day, without a break. Well, donning a suit like that for long suffocating hours has never been easy, has it?

Where praying to the Almighty for our family’s well-being and safety was once a passing habit, it has now become a dire duty since many people living away from home are not quite sure if they can ever see their loved ones.

Hospitals have for quite some time now started to run out of beds, oxygen cylinders are scarce, crematoriums look like a forest fire has broken out. People have been left to die on the roads, shitloads of places are filled with human carcass, except that this time, they’re all wrapped in black and tossed away like the morning garbage. The underprivileged and the beau monde, no one has been spared.

While we have been a prey to such gruesomeness, there is also an India that has been spending a horde of money in building statues, campaigning for elections and glorifying their wins. The aftermath of such elections which included quite a bloodbath, was probably hidden under a wooden carpet, nailed and sealed forever.

While some continue to thrash the country’s government, some feel it was the sloppy attitude of the people that pushed them into the tunnel of obscurity. Who is to blame? Or, who is to blame…..for never have I ever faced a question so rhetorical, never have we felt so unprotected and paralyzed. Adding fuel to the fire is an overabundance of fake news snatching away our sleep. Isn’t it time for us to stop resorting to religious and political bigotry and start cajoling people into speaking their hearts out?

Be aware, be mindful, be opinionated. Apart from unceasing hope and desperate prayers, we need our voices to be heard, truth to be unearthed, and a healthier consciousness to be embraced.

By Esha Chowdhury