The Fourth Coming
As you read this, Delhi and Mumbai are again locked down after a few months of carelessly rejoicing on the streets and in clubs, pubs and restaurant. But people in West Bengal and elsewhere are getting ready to attend election rallies without masks, while others in Haridwar get set to take a holy dip. Have we gone crazy?
It is back, and this time with a vengeance that makes March, April and May of 2020 look like a veritable picnic. As India and Indians scramble for cover and cower inside their homes once again (this time even more scared than they were barely 12-14 months back), one can but wonder at the sheer shallowness of the average human mind. How did any of us expect a once-in-a-century pandemic to be kind and large-hearted enough to go away as suddenly as it appeared? And how did we as a people, and the authorities, our rulers who take decisions that govern over a billion lives, take things so lightly? So lightly, indeed, that we callously let our guard down and gave the virus cause and pause to mutate and return with the vicious anger that it seems to have built up?
The numbers are doing the talking, and how. India is now logging in around 2 lakh new cases each day, with Maharashtra alone contributing (if we may use that facile term) around 40 per cent of the daily case-load. And our Capital city of Delhi is not to be taken frivolously either, threatening to soon scale the 20,000-mark in daily cases. The scariest part, far more than these numbing numbers, is the positivity rate in those being tested, for it is threatening to scale the 20-per cent mark. Mind you, it was under 1 per cent barely a fortnight back, now having risen daily to these alarming levels in quick time. That means one in every five persons being tested is turning up positive for the virus. And since the new variant in this 'Fourth Wave' of the Coronavirus exhibits only mild or no symptoms, there must be millions who are not getting tested. That, then, is a very real, very scary reality.
Starkly different
The above two paragraphs are one side of a dark play. The other side is remarkably different, for it is filled with gay abandon, religious piety, even celebration and fervor. In these cloudy times, let's talk gaiety, which leads us to Haridwar, where the world's largest gathering of devotees lines up daily to take a dip in the mighty and holy Ganges. Here, the few reporters covering the staggeringly large congregation walk up to the scores waiting in the scorching Sun just after they plunged to cleanse their sins and souls, and then emerged.
The reporters ask them, "Aap tez dhoop mein kyon khade hain?" (why are you standing out in the open Sun when it is so hot?). The answer is as scientifically educative as it is mind-blowing—"Dhoop mein khade hone se Corona nahin hota!" (If you stand in the Sun, Corona can't touch you). Well, tell that to the virus, my brothers and sisters, for it has already touched 1,700 known victims thus far in Haridwar alone in the last few days. 'Known victims' is a telling indicator.
Let's move on to West Bengal, where a particularly brutal political battle is taking place, with the entire might of the Central ruling party being brought in to vanquish and smother the State's ruling woman who is all but going it alone in the Assembly Elections. It is painful to witness such a gambit, that while people in Maharashtra (including our financial capital Mumbai) and Delhi-NCR slink inside their homes, recoiling in fear and anxiety, thousands upon thousands in West Bengal get ready and move out of their homes each morning, with no masks adorning their faces, and only a political fiesta studding their inner core. Thousands congregate in maidans, where leader upon leader greets them with rants and tirades, while also not wearing a mask. No social distancing is maintained, for it just cannot be. Too many people, too little space—but that is the agenda, to show the sheer might that has been brought to bear.
Till a few weeks back, similar scenes were witnessed in Tamil Nadu, Assam, Kerala and Puducherry. No masks. No social distancing. No sanitizing. Today, thankfully, since polling has finally finished there, calm reigns, as does a mirthful Coronavirus which has infected thousands upon thousands of people. And COVID 19, now COVID-21, grins as it cackles—"I got you…"
Are we one, or 36?
Are we one country, or 36? Mind you, I am not a Civics amateur, it is just that I am adding the Union Territories to our recognized list of full-blown States, and hence 36. So why, in a country where every State or UT is facing pretty much the same problem in this Coronavirus pandemic, do we have different sets of rules for different States? Forget India, the whole world is facing the same situation, and even the most developed nation, the United States, is facing a rise in Coronavirus cases after Donald Trump's ignominious departure. The UK, China, Russia, Germany, Brazil… it's a long list. Everyone is up against it still, really big time.
The only saving grace is that Shri Trump is not talking, for once, and that provides the world with some relief. As does the fact that the United Kingdom and Germany are beginning to lift some restrictions and lockdowns. But that good news only makes things in India darker, especially as we move back to imposing lockdowns.
So what the hell went wrong in India? I feel that our only possible explanation, flaccid and impotent at best, is that we are a special creed of people, a rather blasé set at that. We simply ran out of patience and set out celebrating the death of a deadly virus prematurely and partied hard—Dal Makhani, Butter Chicken, Whiskey and Vodka ruled our roads again as we moved on with our way of life, when we should have simply stayed put. And suddenly, we were worse off than we were on Day One.
Plain and simple, I have never seen so many people hugging each another just a few months after a never-before pan(dem)ic hibernated for just a while. We predicted, predicated and celebrated the death of a dreaded virus much too early, perhaps for personal succor and relief (in the case of the average Indian citizen) and certainly for nefarious gains (in the case of the average Indian politician). Well, COVID-21 is having a guttural laugh and it is not its last. Its kicks on our tonsils are very hurtful, and I am certainly not talking about the two lymph nodes in our throat.
Just two months back…
In February, I wrote a sentence on these very pages and I repeat them, for alas, they have come true. "By not acknowledging this Damocles' sword that still hangs over our head, we are making a terrible mistake; one that we may yet pay a hefty price for."
Boy, I have never been sadder to have been so right. So here we are, rushing again to stock up on essentials and bread and booze and veggies, lest history repeats itself and a day's Janata Curfew metamorphoses into a two-day lockdown that goes on for months.
What of our migrant workers, you ask, those who trudged for hours and days to return to their homes and villages in Lockdown 1.0? Well, scores of them are leaving our cities again, flooding bus terminuses and railway stations before someone gives them just a few hours of a getaway deadline. And guess what, most still wear no masks. And while a prophylactic can be seen on some noses, it doesn't cover the essentials, making pregnancy or disease a very definite possibility.
This time, it is deadlier and you want to know why? That's because unlike last time, when travelers Indian and international from overseas locations brought us this very special curse, it is us local Indians who are now the carriers; as we move, the virus moves into rural India. The result, God Forbid, could be as staggering as it could be devastating.
Therefore, I make a small request to those of you who have little faith—grow some, please. And find the courage and tenacity to go it alone for just a wee bit more. This is not an enemy we fight in togetherness, it is one that we can only defeat when we stand all alone. And then we hope, for there's little else anyone can really do.
The writer is a communications consultant and a clinical analyst.
narayanrajeev2006@gmail.com
