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Wednesday, June 22, 2022

Covid: A Fearful Drift


In the memories of my maternal grandpa, a Covid warrior: Late Shri Shiv Kumar Sharma…

It was 21st of June 2020 when I last spoke to my maternal grandpa. He was admitted in the hospital. When I told him about my love towards writing, he blessed me and said that I will become a successful writer one day… I never knew that it was the last day to hear his kind words.

As the year 2020 started, my family members were very joyous and elated. In the month of January my maternal grandparents’ house was newly built and they were about to shift, which was to be followed by maternal uncle’s marriage. On the other hand I was blessed with a newly born brother, in February. There were several parties and inauguration that took place and it seemed to be the happiest year. My younger maternal uncle was engaged and was to be married soon. Unfortunately, Covid-19 was spread by then and due to lockdown we all were stuck in our homes. Hence, his marriage got delayed.

Late in June when government announced unlock-one people started wandering outside, my maternal family became a victim of Covid-19. The eleven members along with some tenants were suffering. My mom was totally bounded because of my little brother, as he was only three months old. She wanted to go there desperately to take care of my Nana and Nani but had no choice. My elder uncle was in a very critical condition too and to motivate his spirits I wrote a short poem on his achievements. My maternal grandpa was a diabetes patient and he was not able to either taste or smell. Early in the morning my maternal grandpa’s health turned gravely critical and he was hospitalized. It was very sudden and everyone else was also severely unwell.  My mother called him daily in the hospital to ask for his wellbeing. Though no one was allowed in the Covid ward but my younger maternal uncle was keeping a track and was meeting him from a distance. The other day we got to know that he was recovering, as he took bath himself and could walk without support, this relieved us a bit. The other day on 22nd of June his situation worsened, suddenly. He needed support to walk and he did not talked to anyone. In the evening we received a very shocking and immensely sorrowful news that he was physically no more… At that point of time I was completely numb, my mom busted into tears and no one could digest that he left us.

My mother rushed to my maternal grandparents’ house. I and my father had to take care of my six year old sister and three months old brother. It was very difficult for my mom to convince everyone to take medicines as no one was willing to eat even a single bite of food. My Nana always stood beside in every relative’s joyous or sorrowful moments, no matter they were near or far. There was a guilt of not being physically present with him when he needed us the most.

 On the other hand, I was supposed to make my younger sister sit for her online classes. I and my father had to be awake whole night, we were managing food by our own, as my mother was dedicated to recover her parental family from the disease. We all were sinking in a big drift to survive. I had to manage my studies along with assuring my little brother’s need. It was like a nightmare. Every time we recall my maternal grandpa’s memories we become more emotional and are left with tears. My mom came back after fifteen days when everyone was cured. She was isolated in a different floor to keep us safe. We all were overwhelmed to see her after a long emotional trauma. Afterwards everything seemed better but no one has mentally recovered till now.

Today, whenever I feel my Nanu’s presence, I wear the green coat which he had specially bought for me just a few days prior when he left us forever...

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