Letters To My Grandchild (Part 1)
Dear Child,
Today is Fool’s Day. 1 April 2020. And I am waiting for someone to jump out from behind a bush or open an unseen door or just take to the national television to shout out “April Fool!” at all of us, to tell us that we have all been duped. That this was all an evil practical joke.
After wincing and cursing at this cruel prank, we would all go back to living like we used to seven days ago.
But, I know that will not happen. The world has changed.
The virus that causes COVID-19 is no April Fool’s game. It is real. It lives in about 800,000 people’s bodies today, while close to 40,000 more people failed to fight it.
Since this is a once-in-a-century occurrence (or so they say), I am chronicling it for you. I am told pandemics follow certain patterns, they have a way of behaving. So, if you understand the times we are living through, perhaps you might be able to face it better.
Moreover, this is new for all of us too. We had only seen large numbers of humans being attacked with bombs, missiles and massive explosions before. Never were we, collectively, all seven billion of us, brought to our knees by a microscopic organism.
Suddenly, all our bickering, our fights, our deceptions, our differences and our disagreements are at bay. We are one — humans. (Although, in subsequent letters I shall tell you how I was naive to think so).
A curious new virus hit Chinese province of Hubei in December 2019. The rest of the world didn’t make much of it.
I am writing from an Indian metropolis, and from the relative safety of my clean and airy apartment. As you read my letters, you will realise why that is important to note.
Despite sharing a 900 kilometre border with the country and engaging in billions of dollars of trade, Indians are blissfully ignorant of China. We sparsely read about it in our history text books, unlike the USA’s, Chinese pop culture is obscure to us. We know so little about the country that a news anchor at Indian’s national broadcaster, Doordashan, once called the Chinese Premier Xi Xingping as ‘Eleven’ Xingping, referring to the roman numeral. We knew more about the Roman Empire of the 750 BC than we do about contemporary China.
We are so busy looking to our West that we forget to look East, at times. All the time.
In any case, we didn’t make much of virus outbreak in China. We assumed the virus will be contained in that large pool of humanity (the only country to beat us in the population race) on the other side of the mighty Himalayas.
In January, protest fever had caught on in India. Here’s why. A lifelong member of the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh is the Prime Minister of our country for the second time, my child. At some point, you should read up about the organisation. Anyway, suffice to say that Narendra Modi believes that India belongs to the Hindus. Who are the Hindus, you ask? Well, that’s a question no scholar has convincingly answered in 5000 years. They have only asked supplementary questions — are Adivasis Hindus? Are Dalits Hindus? Are Sindhis Hindus? Do Brahmins practice Brahminism or do they practice Hinduism? When did Hinduism start?
I digress. Apologies. So, Modi and his government passed a law which would make Muslims second-class citizens and the nation was protesting against it. We didn’t know what equality was, but we didn’t want institutionalised inequality.
February arrived and brought religious violence with it. About 50 people died in Northeastern parts of Delhi, where I once accidentally reached because I had fallen asleep in a bus. While we were still focusing on the deaths and destruction, news about Europe and Iran fighting the same virus as China began to emerge.
I have no idea how the first two weeks of March flew past, my child. We heard more and more of COVID-19 and corona virus — generic name for the virus that causes the disease.
Newspapers began to write about it, leading foreign magazines had specific sections dedicated to documenting its spread and Indian news channels began shaking themselves awake to this story.
No one imagined that it would be the biggest story of our times. That’s the point, child. A calamity will not send a telegram in advance of its arrival. Be aware of your actions as you are doing them. Every single plastic bag you throw on the street, every time you keep the engine revving at a signal light, every time you leave the lights in your room on.
On March 24, Modi took to the television again and announced a 21 day lockdown from the following day. The lockdown meant we were to stay indoors. And that’s that. 1.2 billion people were asked to stop in their tracks. Like arranging the fingers into a fake gun and pointing at them — “statue”.
From tomorrow, I shall narrate the story of the lockdown. It is incredible, painful, scary and warm in equal measures. Or perhaps not. You be the judge.
Stay with me.
With love,
Yours,
