771, 434, 798, 759
All these days, these were just numbers. An account of #COVID19 impact in #TamilNadu. An account of how bad things in Chennai were. An account of how careless people were. An account of how these numbers will delay return to normalcy. (1/n)
But a couple of days back, I received a call from Amma...
The thing is she doesn't call often. It is Appa who does.
Mind went into overdrive. (2/n)
Before I could react, she added that pinnaadi veetula, the family of six, grandparents, parents, and two sons, tested positive. The youngest is a teenager.
I have known the family since I was four. I have seen the boys grow up. (3/n)
They kept me well-fed when I returned from school and waited for my parents to come back from office. (4/n)
As years passed, and I stayed out of my home for years together, I knew they were just pinnaadi veetula if my parents needed anything.
It was a reassuring feeling. But now, they are all alone. (5/n)
I came to know that our next-apartment neighbour isn't pleased with this arrangement.
Not for a second, did they think what that kid, staying all alone, would be going through. (6/n)
He wouldn't come back home.
I always knew him as an independent guy, who even at the age of 70, walked a couple of kilometres to his shop to work the entire day. (7/n)
The others are still in the hospital.
And yet that neighbour could only think about their safety. I don't blame them. My instinctive response to that first call was to tell my parents to be safe (8/n)
When it was in the nineties, this was just a statistic. Now, I knew one of them. But before I made this all about me, I realised something more important.
My parents (70 and 60) started preparing for the worst. (9/n)
It is inexplicable to fathom parents being vulnerable.
Despite this, they sent me and my sister a video of where they've kept the jewels hidden at home. I didn't want to know (10/n)
My parents were more practical than me. They were sure of letting me know of all this.
Though they were clearly afraid... they still were parents first. It was unsettling. (11/n)
But, I don't want it to happen in such a time where fear is winning over everything else.
I have never seen my appa and amma be scared of anything except my future. (12/n)
We are a practical family. However... I can feel that fear.
And I'm sure a lot of our parents are feeling that. Especially the parents of children who aren't around each other.
The fear is real. (13/n)
Yes, the safety checks are in place. Yes, proper checking and sanitisation is done by the corporation.
But fear doesn't see logic. Everything seems fine... for now.
But... (14/n)
The mortality rate seems more ominous.
You see, the coronavirus was not just too close to home. It hit home. It became as real as it could.
It makes me livid about people who don't follow basic social distancing or wear proper PPE. (15/n)
I can't imagine his mental state now. He would have heard the neighbour fight with our flat secretary about keeping him there. He will be sent on a guilt trip for sure.
I know he loved his thatha. (16/n)
I hope he finds the strength to come out of it stronger. I hope people around him understand it could have happened to any of us.
And that's the most important point of all this.
Any of us could be next.
Any of us. (17/n)
Any of us could be the ones not being able to give those last hugs.
Any of us could be the ones who become just another statistic.
That 'Any of us' could be our parents, children, family or friends (18/n)
We might be immune, but not our young children, parents or grandparents.
It isn't a pretty sight to see our role models be vulnerable.
Trust me, it sucks big time.
So... (19/n)
Maintaining social distance might be difficult. But do it.
We are right royally flucked. And unfortunately, facing that reality is all we can do right now.
Death might be inevitable, but fear...
I don't think so.
Not today. (20/20)