“Ma’am, I am back home!”
It was
music to my ears. Then came the description.
One of my students united
with his family after recovering from Covid this evening. While his father is making good progress
and will be home in another two or three days, he wonders why he hasn’t joined
them yet.
His words… It seemed like he was narrating an episode from some daily soap. The difference, however, was that it was the stark reality. The reality much of India is dealing with right now. Call it dramatic, heartbreaking, miserable or what not, the Covid wave has rendered us handicapped.
What also awaited him at home was news of his uncle's passing away because they couldn't find a Plasma donor on time. The tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine. There was a sense of detachment. This isn't what should ideally constitute a teenager's life story.
The stories
are only getting more painful – aam janta, journalists tweeting about decreasing oxygen
levels and dying, pleading for help. Wait! It doesn’t end there. The family members had to wait for hours for the body to be taken in an ambulance. Shortage
of oxygen cylinders, medicines, plasma, beds in hospitals are tales that are all over social media.
I was one
of those people who refrained from posting these on social media. Your opinion,
whatever it may be, has a way of getting on the wrong side for someone out
there. And the ensuing “comments” may turn ugly and some even have the ammunition
to jeopardize bonds that weren’t meant to end that way. These and many more were my reasons and I
chose to stick by them. Until last night. Until news came of my friend’s dad urgently
requiring Plasma (which even as I write, I am toggling between tabs to see if
there is an update about it – 24 hours post sharing it on all possible social media
pages!)
They even
said that love and Covid are similar, you do not understand its gravity unless it happens
to you. Or to a loved one, in my case. It’s been a tough time. The helplessness, numbness
that follows is only some of the few things to weaken you further. Last night seemed never-ending,
Sleep eluded me. And that’s when I decided to bring my comparatively
dormant Twitter account back to life.
Wouldn’t it
be just another person seeking URGENT help? What can I possibly achieve?
The
questions were many but I chose to put them aside. It was 1:30 am and within
minutes, I had retweets, comments and to my utter disbelief, help from
strangers. I had tears in my eyes. Friends too, in whatever capacity they
could, routed everything my way from forwarded messages to screenshots.
What
overwhelms is the fact that for a generation that has adjectives like “self-centered”
and “selfish” to its credit, I found people wading through a treacherous sea -- some don’t know swimming, some barely remain afloat, but people holding
hands and refusing to let anyone sink while swimming to reach a shore, any shore. Of course, there are the occasional weeds in the form of fake messages and dis-information. At a time like this, I only hope they are cut short.
That’s the
trouble with the sea. It can tire one after a certain period. While the grip
might loosen, and many will be consumed by the sea, those who emerge out of it will
have stories to narrate, the future awash with memories of a dreary night.
While we try hard to wade through this, I thank each one of my friends and strangers who came out to help and provided leads. While the storm rages, let’s stand united in our cause. Let's be there for each other, with enough distancing, of course! Let's see this through.
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