Can we even Lockdown now?

Given how the number of cases is rising, it is tempting to demand a Lockdown- even Dr. Fauci recommends it. But clearly, those asking for it have no idea about the ground reality of the country.

Our healthcare system has totally broken down. We do not have sufficient hospital beds, we do not have sufficient oxygen, we do not have sufficient life saving medicines. The State does not have the resources to treat everyone who needs to be treated. In such a situation, how will Lockdown help?

Take the hypothetical case of one 47 year old who tests positive. The person is kept under home isolation, but the moment her SPO2 drops below 90, the drama begins. Her family starts the hunt for an oxygen cylinder which will keep her oxygen levels up. They run between dealers to procure oxygen and/ or medication.

When there is a Lockdown, will they be allowed free movement? Will the resources magically get procured and delivered in a contactless manner by vaccinated delivery staff?

The patient’s oxygen levels continue to drop. The family hears of a potential lead in a hospital, and bundles her and her oxygen cylinder into an auto to take her to the hospital. If she is lucky, she is given a gurney and with her oxygen cylinder she waits for a bed to become available. Her family is with her, waiting.

As long as the hospital infrastructure is absolutely inadequate to meet demand, and there remains a severe lack of confidence in the medical system, will a Lockdown prevent people from rushing their severely ill relatives to hospitals, and waiting with them till they get support? No Lockdown will contain people indoors while their relatives are dying.

The patient doesn’t recover. There are 24 hour long queues at crematoria.

Will a Lockdown help? Can mourners be kept away from cremating their own?

In the current situation where numbers are rising drastically, and the public doesn't have confidence in the system, even Lockdowns will not keep people indoors. And these are the people who are in contact with the severely ill patients, and are therefore most likely to be spreaders.

By declaring a Lockdown, all that will happen is that the families of those who are sick will be harassed even more than they are now. Last year, we saw how the Lockdown affected the socially and economically marginalised. Does it make any sense to repeat that, when the category of people who are most likely to be spreaders (the family of severely ill patients) cannot be contained by a Lockdown?

At this point, the best that the government can do is to mandate that all business that can shift to a work from home model do so. Exams can and must be cancelled. Restrictions placed on all unnecessary gatherings. Greater precautions be taken on public transport. A lockdown is neither feasible, nor possible- we need to do the best we can.

Shopping for Vegetables

Returning from her evening walk,

She catches a whiff of dinner being prepared.

Palak paneer! Yes, she would like that.

She takes a detour through the market.

Her shoppu vendor is there. Pink saree. Big smile. 

“Amma, I haven’t seen you for long.”

They talk about the daughter

Of how she’s doing in school.

She sifts through the greens.

There is no spinach. But the methi looks fresh.

There is curd at home.

She could have methi paratha tonight.

She now makes weekly trips to the supermarket.

Where cold vegetables choke in plastic bags.

And masks hide even the smiles.

After you hear, “I’m positive”

“I'm positive.”

The two words all of us have hoped we will not have to hear.

The two words that my husband uttered when I least expected it.

He had been quite ill the previous week. But the symptoms were of a regular viral fever, not of COVID.

I was dismissive when his boss told him to get the PCR test done. I'd told everyone it was not COVID.

It couldn't be.

Yet, it was.

"Are you sure?", I asked running over the symptoms all over again.

"Yes".

For a few moments, everything went blank, then the brain kicked in. His temperature which had been really high was now under control. He'd had his first proper meal an hour back. He was getting better.

But what the kids and me?

Since none of us had worn space suits, we were all at risk. We had all handled the microwave, the fridge and the TV remote. Though he'd been confined to his room most of the previous week, I had spent the whole weekend with him.

It was a scary thought.

"I don't think we should tell the kids."

"Of course we need to." I'd always involved them in decisions concerning all of us.

They were surprisingly stoic- "Papa is better, isn't he?"

And had the facts - "We shouldn't panic. Most cases don't involve hospitalisation."

What we chose not to discuss was that I had been running fever for two days, and both of them had been coughing since morning.

I got in touch with a doctor friend who gave invaluable advice. "Assume that all of you are positive. Track the vitals and treat the symptoms."

Luckily I'd already bought an oxymeter, and we had an extra thermometer, so all I had to do was to create a google spreadsheet to track the vitals. The kids were given access to the sheet with strict orders to keep it updated if I wasn't well enough to do so.

ATM cards and credit cards with PINs were also given to the kids for safe keeping, though I am not sure why.

And with that began the official quarantine. Inform the apartment complex. Ask the househelp not to come. Tell people at work. Dodge questions from relatives.

I'd been in the middle of putting a presentation together when the report came. Finishing that, and making a pitch to a potential partner was an effort of will. But the distance it required also put things in perspective; you just had to take it a minute at a time.

"One day at a time", became the motto when our neighbours were acting obnoxious. Every mealtime, every load of laundry, every pile of dishes became monumental when none of you was feeling well.

Small things were difficult- like teaching the dog to pee on a pile of newspapers.

But we really couldn't complain, because while we were all slightly unwell, our symptoms were mild.

While the medical response in Hyderabad had virtually collapsed, thankfully we didn't need it.

And the only thing we hoped for was that we would continue to not need it.

Two days after the test result, my husband's temperature returned to normal, and he complained that the adrakwali chai had too much ginger.

The kids had both stopped coughing, and my younger one and I were on a regular dose of paracetamol to keep out temperature in check.

We were having Vitamin C and Zinc tablets, and ensuring adequate fluid intake. And we ignored all the people who suggested homeopathic remedies and HCQ.

Eating healthy was not always possible because we depended on Swiggy to provide one meal every day. We just did our best.

His symptoms had gone by the time the three of us got our tests done. And in the three days it took for the results to come, my symptoms had worsened.

Very strangely, all three of us tested negative; it is too much of a coincidence that we all fell ill with a different virus at the same time.

We continued to assume we were every combination of positive and negative.

We kept tracking our vitals.

We tried to be in different rooms, wore masks when we came near each other. We washed our hands before touching things others might later touch, and sanitised surfaces.

And we laughed often at the irony of SARS CoV 2 entering our home when we were all so careful about masking, sanitising and physical distancing in public.

Till I found an article saying that amount of exposure could determine severity of infection, which justified masking up.

Right now, I am the only one who's ill. Fever, body ache, lethargy. But even I am getting better every day. In three days the official quarantine will be over. We would be deemed recovered. Life can go back to what we called 'normalcy' before the virus entered our lives.

If I could summarise our experience, it would be just this-

- arm yourself with facts so you know what to expect

- home quarantine is physically stressful, but better for mild cases

- tracking oxygen saturation three times a day is critical so you aren't caught unawares

- find a doctor you can trust, and who doesn't mind you bugging him with stupid fears.

- worrying doesn't help, nor does overthinking; just take it one day at a time (and this was a tough one for me)

- smile; it is not always as bad as we fear it could be

We might go for an antibody test to find out whether we actually had COVID. Or we may not. Either way, it would be an academic exercise. Mild cases do not provide immunity for more than 60 days, so we will continue as we did before- wear masks, maintain physical distance and practice hand hygiene. And SMILE.

Chai...

I smile in anticipation after finding a piece of shriveled ginger in the fridge. With fresh ginger no longer available, this piece is pregnant with possibilities. I drop it into boiling water, and wait for the flavours to seep out.
Ginger is not just ginger. It can be adrakwali chai.
Chai!

“Thoda chai patti aur shakkar de sakte ho?”, a man asked my friend when she at the grocer.
A stranded laborer, he was getting food from the government. But it was chai he craved for.
She gave him all the money in her purse, wishing she had more.
Back in the space which his family inhabits, he will brew chai for his wife and child. As they sip the sugary concoction together, at least for a few moments, the city would feel like home.
Chai is not just chai. It never was. Chai is belonging.

I drop the Red Label chaipatti in. And wait.

In camps where stranded laborers are housed, they wait for 4 pm. Chaitime.
Today there is no chai. The camps have run out of money. They barely have enough for food.
Reduce the food, they say, but give us our chai.
Chai is not an essential, but it is necessary to stay alive.

The steaming beverage on a hot summer day. The sugar rush it provides.
Chai is belonging.
It is the feeling of being wanted.
Of letting you forget you situation.
Of making you feel that you are in control.
I pour the chai into my favourite mug, and inhale deeply. The pungency of the ginger hits me like a tsunami. Carries me away to the ocean where only chai drinkers go.
Friendship
Gratitude
Togetherness
Passion
Addiction
Joy
Necessity
Chai means different things to different people.

Handloom Face Masks

 Couple of weeks back, a friend and I were joking about getting handloom face masks to match our blouses. I was dreaming of face masks in ikat and indigo mul, when the pop-up ads started appearing.

Two and three layer masks in handloom or handprinted cotton. Some reversible, all beautiful.

They were so beautiful, and with the linkages to providing livelihood in the handloom sector, and for women tailors, they appealed on more than just aesthatics.

But do these masks really work? When I set out to find out, I realised that most of those mask do not serve the purpose for which they are designed.

The purpose of the masks is to act as a physical barrier to prevent the spread of the virus through respiratory droplets suspended in the atmosphere. Which means, the fabrics and/ or combination of fabrics should be tested for the ability to filter out particles.

The efficiency of filtration of these aerosols was tested on various fabrics and combination of fabrics, especially cotton. Since the size of the droplet is not known, the fabrics were tested for aerosols from 10 nm to ∼10 μm sizes.

Details of the study are given in the article, but to sum up, a double layer was more effective than a single layer, and a combination of fabrics worked better than multiple layers of the same fabric.

Two layers of cotton provides protection of above 70%, but only if thread count is 600 TPI.

Coming to handlooms. Handloom is not densely woven, and has thread count of 80-200. Two layers of 80 TPI provides protection as low as 40%.

Though handlooms look nice, they aren't effective as face masks.

The most effective masks would be a combination of cotton-silk or cotton-chiffon, but both fabrics should have tight weaves.

In the absence of a certifying authority, we should be careful before buying and using a handloom mask- if it doesn't protect, is it worth wearing?

We should certainly support handloom and handmade, but we should also insist on the face masks performing the purpose for which they are designed.

Incidentally, four layers of silk (a scarf wound around) provides upto 85% protection.

Details here- https://pubs.acs.org/doi/10.1021/acsnano.0c03252#

Photograph taken from the web.

To continue to be kind

I almost don’t want to go to Facebook any more. All my friends are cooking elaborate five course meals, and participating in book readings and saree challenges. But for me, just ensuring the family (including dog) is fed and clothed seems like a major achievement.

Every day is like being on a treadmill. Meals, laundry, work, worry. You are running all the time, but even after putting in your best effort, you are exactly where you stared. The meal gets consumed, and you have to think of the next one. Laundry keeps piling up.

I admire the people who are baking their own bread- crusty, melt in the mouth buns for teatime. But I cannot be like them. I will shamelessly admit that I have taught my kids to fix themselves Maggie for lunch on days when I just cannot get myself to enter the kitchen.

There are people working on embroidery projects and learning Madhubani painting. I tell myself if I do something creative, it will help. But helping solve a trigonometry problem is about all I am capable of doing in my current mental state.

To all the people saying that if you do not come out of the lockdown without having learnt a new skill, all you lacked is discipline, I will only say, ‘Good for you that you are able’. But I can’t and it is not discipline that is lacking. It is the will.

We are in the middle of a pandemic. We are worried about ourselves. We are worried about our loved ones. There are nights when I can’t sleep worrying about my mother who is alone in another state 600 kms away. I worry about her.

I worry about the economy which was in bad shape even before the Lockdown, and which will only get worse. I worry about the recession that will come. I worry about how many people will slip further into poverty. I worry about increasing violence at home and on the streets.

I know that my worrying will not help. But it paralyses me. It prevents me from being creative and productive. Every night, while going to bed, I tell myself that tomorrow I will make the effort and wear kajal. But if I even comb my hair before noon, that’s an achievement.

There is just one thing I am able to do for myself. Every evening, I fix myself a strong mug of coffee, and sip it on the balcony while watching the sun paint its masterpiece on the western horizon. It is those 15 minutes of emptiness that keeps me sane and grounded.

And I tell myself that this is not a competition. I do not have to submit samples of my creativity to be graded by anyone. I do not have to make lists of books read, and movies watched. I do not have to be smarter and slimmer. I only have to continue being kind.

For me, and for many like me, survival is enough. If I come out of the lockdown with my sanity intact and without having lost my humanity, that’s enough. Paula Radcliffe can run a marathon in 2:15:25. If I turn up at the starting line, that is good enough.

Mere Survival is enough

 I almost don’t want to go to Facebook any more. All my friends are cooking elaborate five course meals, and participating in book readings and saree challenges. But for me, just ensuring the family (including dog) is fed and clothed seems like a major achievement.

Every day is like being on a treadmill. Meals, laundry, work, worry. You are running all the time, but even after putting in your best effort, you are exactly where you stared. The meal gets consumed, and you have to think of the next one. Laundry keeps piling up.

I admire the people who are baking their own bread- crusty, melt in the mouth buns for teatime. But I cannot be like them. I will shamelessly admit that I have taught my kids to fix themselves Maggie for lunch on days when I just cannot get myself to enter the kitchen.

There are people working on embroidery projects and learning Madhubani painting. I tell myself if I do something creative, it will help. But helping solve a trigonometry problem is about all I am capable of doing in my current mental state.

To all the people saying that if you do not come out of the lockdown without having learnt a new skill, all you lacked is discipline, I will only say, ‘Good for you that you are able’. But I can’t and it is not discipline that is lacking. It is the will.

We are in the middle of a pandemic. We are worried about ourselves. We are worried about our loved ones. There are nights when I can’t sleep worrying about my mother who is alone in another state 600 kms away. I worry about her.

I worry about the economy which was in bad shape even before the Lockdown, and which will only get worse. I worry about the recession that will come. I worry about how many people will slip further into poverty. I worry about increasing violence at home and on the streets.

I know that my worrying will not help. But it paralyses me. It prevents me from being creative and productive. Every night, while going to bed, I tell myself that tomorrow I will make the effort and wear kajal. But if I even comb my hair before noon, that’s an achievement.

There is just one thing I am able to do for myself. Every evening, I fix myself a strong mug of coffee, and sip it on the balcony while watching the sun paint its masterpiece on the western horizon. It is those 15 minutes of emptiness that keeps me sane and grounded.

And I tell myself that this is not a competition. I do not have to submit samples of my creativity to be graded by anyone. I do not have to make lists of books read, and movies watched. I do not have to be smarter and slimmer. I only have to continue being kind.

For me, and for many like me, survival is enough. If I come out of the lockdown with my sanity intact and without having lost my humanity, that’s enough. Paula Radcliffe can run a marathon in 2:15:25. If I turn up at the starting line, that is good enough.

Towards a more Equitable Household

One day into the Lockdown, I realised just how gender inequitable my household really is. All these days, things ran without me, but only because I had a help who came in everyday at 6:30 and ensured that all the things that needed to be done were done.

I was acutely conscious of my privilege. When people complimented me on how I could balance home and work, I always told them, "I am lucky. My kids are super independent and I have reliable help." People would tease me on my dependence on her, but I knew reality.

The kids helped.

When I was not around, they fed and walked the dog. The went to the grocery store more often than I did, and the younger one makes much better chai than I ever could.

I thought I was bringing up feminist sons.

I could delude myself into believing roles at home were not gendered, but only because I had sub-contracted 'my' responsibilities to someone else.

What I perhaps didn't want to see was that they remained 'my' responsibilities.

On the rare days when my help would take off, the kids would eat at the canteen, dinner would be ordered, and I'd do the dishes and the laundry. I rarely asked for help, because it was easier to do it myself.

I continued living in my gender neutral household shell.

"Nahin Lakshmi. Aap ghar pe hi rehna. Aane ki koshish mat karna. Hum manage kar lenge", I told her the morning after the CM announced a ten day lockdown.

And then I faced reality.

Ten days of managing home and work. Without help.

There was just no way I could have done it all. Time for the housework to get redistributed.

Sweeping and mopping

Doing the dishes

Running the laundry

The kids were asked to choose what they wanted to do, and luckily they wanted different things.

Those first two days were difficult. Nobody ever taught me to wash dishes but I had to teach them. From which scrub to use, to how much pressure to put, and how to rinse without drenching yourself. But finally, they got it. Not perfect yet, but pretty close.

There are still jobs that remain with me. Like making the bed, but those are things I want done. Not essentials.

The essential tasks have been redistributed. And they get done without nagging.

"Do I have to do the dishes?"

"You can do it later, but it has to be done."

They say it takes 21 days to form a habit.

By the end of the Lockdown period, I hope this division of responsibilities gets internalised. And next time the help takes leave, I don't need to ask for 'help'.

And I hope the same happens in other families too.