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ARTWORK: Navita Wijeratne
Living the pandemic in New Delhi Isha Singhal CW: This article discusses COVID-19 and related circumstances including resource shortages and death. “I can’t wait to see you soon” These were the words of my friend, as I hugged her goodbye at her birthday. “Soon, as long as these rising cases don’t become an issue”, I said, although I didn’t really mean it.
People desperately needed oxygen, ICU beds, essential medicines, medical services and much more. Alas, there was a shortage everywhere. I can remember including the entire country and by extension the entire world, in my prayers. The number of my friends who tested positive for the virus increased to five, and then more, and more until it grew to numbers beyond which I could count.
COVID-19 was here to stay and we just had to live with it. As long as we wore masks and maintained our distance, we would be fine.
I knew I had to do something. I began assisting people who needed resources by contacting hospitals and collating resource documents. People would message me their needs and I would help amplify them and source them.
I was wrong, I underestimated the wrath of COVID. We all like to think COVID has affected us and pushed us in some ways, but I’ve learnt it’s really naïve to think we’ve been pushed to the maximum.
bed.
I was able to get a friend’s dad a hospital
hope.
That, right there, was my first symbol of
On Sunday the 18th of April, I woke up to the news that my home football field was being shut due to the recent rise in cases. I was devastated. The place I had spent three hours every day for almost seven years was being closed. Lots of thoughts crossed my mind - when would I be able to meet friends, would I be able to kick around again, or would I, just like last year, become a lazier version of myself sitting at home? I was naïve, naïve to think that this was the most devastating effect the pandemic had to offer. That evening, three of my friends tested positive for the virus. This was when the virus really started to hit close to home. The next day, all my social media went dark. I couldn’t see anything on people’s Instagram stories, except cries for help written in white text on the black background.
However in doing so, one day, I found myself asking the question I would never let anyone ask themselves. By helping someone find a resource, was I taking this resource away from someone else? Perhaps from a poorer individual, who may not be able to mobilise resources as well? I shuddered and brushed those thoughts away. Yet they still plague me at the back of my mind. However, nothing really pushes you to the brink than seeing the world around you crumble. I found it hard to sleep some nights, as I kept hearing ambulance sirens run up and down the street. At least that means someone’s getting help, I would think.
