April 25, disaster in India

Sidhu grabbed his father’s hand and held it tight. Rasping breaths struggled to bring in more oxygen, the young boy held on pushing his fingers deeper, willing his dad to live. The boy’s mother was gone into the hospital three days before, they heard nothing more. He hoped to see her again. Now his dad was visibly suffering, struggling to fill his lungs. At the age of ten, young Sidhu cried softly hoping for some miracle, he wished for someone to come and help his papa.

It started less than a week before. His papa didn’t seem very sick but he had to work to feed them. His mom seemed fine, then one morning she started to sneeze. After that came the horrible coughing. She was struggling to breathe and her dad rushed her to the hospital. Sidhu sat at home and waited. It was the longest day of his young life. 

A day that would get much longer before it was over.

“Sidhu you must take care of your younger sister. She is not as strong as you are. I am not sure how long I can hang on.” The boy’s father slumped back onto the bed, it was obvious just the effort of speaking drained him of all his energy. A cough racked his father’s body and he shook uncontrollably. Sidhu held his hand tighter, hoping he could take away the pain.

“Father you will be fine. Mommy needs you. I need you!” Sidhu pleaded into his father’s eyes. At that moment light started to fade from his dad’s vision. The young Hindu boy was terrified. The streets of Dehli were no place for him and his little sister. His dad stopped shaking, his breath ravaged, he gasped to gain another dose of precious air. 

The young boy cried softly feeling his father’s lifeblood flow slowly out of him. “Do not leave me papa… papa? No Papa!” He shook him, pushing on his chest. Where was the ambulance, why did it not come? He couldn’t do anything. His sister started to cry in the crib behind him. He was by himself with his sister.

Alone. Utterly alone.

His little sister was only two, what could he do? Their grandparents were both very sick as well. What was this evil thing that swept through their enclave in the last two weeks? So many people were sick. Sidhu didn’t know where to go. 

“Help me, papa come back! Mommy! Mommy where are you, ohh father…” Sidhu sat down next to the crib with his crying sister and joined her sobs. 

Would the world hear about their pain? Where could he go? 

“Papa please…” Sidhu fell to the bed in a crumpled heap. How could he take care of his little sister? How could his parents leave…

“Knock, knock, knock.” a firm pounding came on the door of Sidhu’s family ramshackle home.

He struggled to stand and walked to the door.  He fumbled with the latch, nerves taking over his control of the hands that shook as if of their own accord. With a sudden push, he opened the door to the stranger standing there. 

“Sidhu? I am from the Red Cross. Your mother asked me to look in on you.” A tall man in a red shirt stood and looked down at the young ten-year-old boy with a tear-stained face. 

“Can you save my papa? Are you here with an ambulance to get him to the hospital? Please save my papa!” Sidhu pushed the stranger and begged for his help.

It was too late.

“I’m sorry son, there is nothing I can do.” Sadly the man looked for a blanket and covered up the body of the fifty-year-old working man that lay on the bed beside the crying boy.

“Your mama is getting better, come I will take you to her.” A sorrowful look passed across the man’s brow as he reached into the crib for the crying toddler. “Your sister should come as well.”

“Is momma ok?” Sidhu looked down at the body of his father lying there. “Can you bring papa?” 

“Your papa will have to wait, someone will come for him.” A tear cracked the lense of the man’s eye. Sidhu knew then there really was no hope for his father.

“Son, the health care system is overwhelmed. There were no more ambulances to come for your father. There is no more room in the hospital.” He grabbed the boy’s arm gently and led him out the door. 

India is suffering the worst outbreak of covid19 since the beginning of this pandemic. The Indian healthcare system has collapsed.  More people are dying than can be saved by the resources they have. As of April 25 over 350,000 cases of covid have been registered with over 2500 deaths in one day. Cases like the one above may well be playing out in the poor parts of the nation. The true death toll may never be known.

In Canada people cry about freedom… in India people cry about the loss of the ones they love. Is staying home such a big cost to pay until this is over?