In India, hope is dying, truth is dying, millions of innocent people are dying
Gautam always kept a small, thin comb in his pocket for his then 1 ½-year-old daughter whose sparse hair he liked to comb quite often. He did that by making a neat little part on the right side and then combing most of the hair on the left. He ended the grand ritual by tucking the piece behind her ear, dividing the rest on the other side, and a kiss on the forehead. He did this five or six times a day or more if it was a weekend.
Gautam loved his only daughter beyond life, beyond perhaps those last breaths as he died gasping for air three weeks ago.
Somu, who was three months younger than me, always called me ‘Mother India’ while growing up in the city of Baroda in the state of Gujarat, which is in the western part of India.
He watched as I always took in the injured and sick dogs in a neighborhood of the Makarpura village where I would often visit, nursing them back to health. I always knew to expect Somu’s teasing when I gave the boys milk and the animal herders first-aid for any injuries they suffered. Somu would always say, “Mother India, please go home, that is enough!” When Somu made the ultimate journey due to COVID three weeks ago, I wondered if he thought, “Where is ‘Mother India’ when I need her?”
Somu’s mom, Mrs. Bhattacharjee, with whom I shared my maiden name, thought very highly of me and treated me as her daughter. I was born a Bengali and my mom and dad were from the eastern part of India called Kolkata. Mrs. Bhattacharjee always implored me to never forget about her when I left India and called America my home.
I assured her she would always be in my mind and heart. Yet, last week, when she was dying from COVID, I could not prove it to her how much I thought about her. Somu’s mother ripped the ventilator from her mouth, rejecting treatment, unable to find purpose in a life with distant or passed children.
In the past month or two, I have had numerous family members and friends, and their family members, lose their lives. Almost everyone in India either lost someone or knows someone who lost a family member.
How did we get here?
Back in January, a triumphant Narendra Modi, India’s prime minister, declared victory over the pandemic and declared Indian exceptionalism to be the driving force behind Modi’s success. In a country with a population of more than one billion, experts puzzled over a probable “herd immunity,” which left India immune to typical variants.
Modi leapt on this idea of “Indian Invincibility,” loosening the restrictions to allow campaigns for state elections with no mask mandates or social distancing restrictions. In reality, Modi understood the cost of his political success. He never knew the faces of Gautam, or Somu, or his mother who died begging for death.
He allowed ‘Kumbh Mela,’ the largest annual religious gathering in India to take place, which turned out to be a super-spreader event. About 90% of the people from ‘Kumbh Mela’ tested positive for COVID. Those people returned to their home states and perhaps added more fuel to the raging COVID fire.
I know there are people who will deny Modi’s fault and blame it on the state governments. I know people who are going to deny state’s fault and blame Modi. And then there are people who are blaming the people who have died because somehow it is their fault that they have contracted COVID.
My people are suffering
I also see politicians sending goons to kill their opponents who lost elections, to burn villages, to burn COVID hospitals, to burn humanity, to burn everything humane. In this game of finger-pointing and blaming of others, hope is dying, truth is dying and millions of innocent people are dying. There is no respite, there is no love and empathy left in many.
What you have is an abundance of people gasping for breath, like fish out of water. It is so common that many people are now inured to that sight, inured to people dying. They walk by people dying, gasping for breath. The smell of charred bodies in stacks on the streets has become a regularity, since there are no spaces available in crematoriums.
I was thinking the other day: This is not about those kids needing their wounds dressed anymore. This is not about hose dogs needing their broken legs bandaged. It is about the soul now; it is deeper. These wounds my people are suffering -- even though I can see them, I can hear them, I can feel them -- I still feel cemented in a position as a helpless observer.
Yet, I made a promise to myself it won’t end here. This time I would do something to bring whatever meaningful change I can bring with my limited resources. Words are nothing until followed by actions. And I made a promise to Gautam, Somu and Mrs. Bhattacharjee that their deaths will not be in vain.
Tanusree Coomar lives in Monroe with her family. She is a Construction Project Manager at Henry Ford Community College.
How you can help
To donate oxygen tanks for struggling COVID victims in India, please visit the American Association of Physicians of Indian Origin. The form to donate can be found at https://events.aapiusa.org/donation-oxygen/
An additional fundraiser to accumulate funds for medical supplies includes https://milaap.org/fundraisers/supp...M4Gt08p74kLxTmR0aCDKYCArKwD5Ytze5oBz8A0IUW8jY
Donations can also be sent http://biloopto.org/
Gautam always kept a small, thin comb in his pocket for his then 1 ½-year-old daughter whose sparse hair he liked to comb quite often. He did that by making a neat little part on the right side and then combing most of the hair on the left. He ended the grand ritual by tucking the piece behind her ear, dividing the rest on the other side, and a kiss on the forehead. He did this five or six times a day or more if it was a weekend.
Gautam loved his only daughter beyond life, beyond perhaps those last breaths as he died gasping for air three weeks ago.
Somu, who was three months younger than me, always called me ‘Mother India’ while growing up in the city of Baroda in the state of Gujarat, which is in the western part of India.
He watched as I always took in the injured and sick dogs in a neighborhood of the Makarpura village where I would often visit, nursing them back to health. I always knew to expect Somu’s teasing when I gave the boys milk and the animal herders first-aid for any injuries they suffered. Somu would always say, “Mother India, please go home, that is enough!” When Somu made the ultimate journey due to COVID three weeks ago, I wondered if he thought, “Where is ‘Mother India’ when I need her?”
Somu’s mom, Mrs. Bhattacharjee, with whom I shared my maiden name, thought very highly of me and treated me as her daughter. I was born a Bengali and my mom and dad were from the eastern part of India called Kolkata. Mrs. Bhattacharjee always implored me to never forget about her when I left India and called America my home.
I assured her she would always be in my mind and heart. Yet, last week, when she was dying from COVID, I could not prove it to her how much I thought about her. Somu’s mother ripped the ventilator from her mouth, rejecting treatment, unable to find purpose in a life with distant or passed children.
In the past month or two, I have had numerous family members and friends, and their family members, lose their lives. Almost everyone in India either lost someone or knows someone who lost a family member.
How did we get here?
Back in January, a triumphant Narendra Modi, India’s prime minister, declared victory over the pandemic and declared Indian exceptionalism to be the driving force behind Modi’s success. In a country with a population of more than one billion, experts puzzled over a probable “herd immunity,” which left India immune to typical variants.
Modi leapt on this idea of “Indian Invincibility,” loosening the restrictions to allow campaigns for state elections with no mask mandates or social distancing restrictions. In reality, Modi understood the cost of his political success. He never knew the faces of Gautam, or Somu, or his mother who died begging for death.
He allowed ‘Kumbh Mela,’ the largest annual religious gathering in India to take place, which turned out to be a super-spreader event. About 90% of the people from ‘Kumbh Mela’ tested positive for COVID. Those people returned to their home states and perhaps added more fuel to the raging COVID fire.
I know there are people who will deny Modi’s fault and blame it on the state governments. I know people who are going to deny state’s fault and blame Modi. And then there are people who are blaming the people who have died because somehow it is their fault that they have contracted COVID.
My people are suffering
I also see politicians sending goons to kill their opponents who lost elections, to burn villages, to burn COVID hospitals, to burn humanity, to burn everything humane. In this game of finger-pointing and blaming of others, hope is dying, truth is dying and millions of innocent people are dying. There is no respite, there is no love and empathy left in many.
What you have is an abundance of people gasping for breath, like fish out of water. It is so common that many people are now inured to that sight, inured to people dying. They walk by people dying, gasping for breath. The smell of charred bodies in stacks on the streets has become a regularity, since there are no spaces available in crematoriums.
I was thinking the other day: This is not about those kids needing their wounds dressed anymore. This is not about hose dogs needing their broken legs bandaged. It is about the soul now; it is deeper. These wounds my people are suffering -- even though I can see them, I can hear them, I can feel them -- I still feel cemented in a position as a helpless observer.
Yet, I made a promise to myself it won’t end here. This time I would do something to bring whatever meaningful change I can bring with my limited resources. Words are nothing until followed by actions. And I made a promise to Gautam, Somu and Mrs. Bhattacharjee that their deaths will not be in vain.
Tanusree Coomar lives in Monroe with her family. She is a Construction Project Manager at Henry Ford Community College.
How you can help
To donate oxygen tanks for struggling COVID victims in India, please visit the American Association of Physicians of Indian Origin. The form to donate can be found at https://events.aapiusa.org/donation-oxygen/
An additional fundraiser to accumulate funds for medical supplies includes https://milaap.org/fundraisers/supp...M4Gt08p74kLxTmR0aCDKYCArKwD5Ytze5oBz8A0IUW8jY
Donations can also be sent http://biloopto.org/
