15. JOURNALIST AND COVID

Flash news! Breaking news!
Every time I see news channel, I would get reminded of my dear journalist, Varsha.
The wrath she had to go through 2020 was beyond measures.
(scene shifts to 2030)
I was very tensed one day after my casual rounds. The cases were reduced a little.
Unlocking had started in phases.
“My dear friend Varsha had called Mishti.”
Mishti recollected and replied, -
“Yes, yes!
I remember Varsha di. Journalist right!
Their lives also have been miserable since the pandemic. Is all good with her?”
I replied, -
“Ha puta. She was explaining about her condition.
(scene shifts to conversation by Varsha)
“Hi Roop. How are you doing?
How is Mishti doing?
You doctors have been relentlessly working day in and day out. Cheers!
You are not less aware that pandemic is going on since 2019.
And I am not startled that many things have changed ever since. Nation has come to a standstill as lockdown was in place.
People were stuck between the four walls of the house, spending time with family.
On the other end, there were a few among the best who stepped out and pugnaciously fighting the battle, in other words, like you.
Along with you guys, we have also been giving it all since the time testing disaster.
Society has named many of the working sectors as Covid Warriors.
One among them were – Journalists.
It had become a regular business, to running around in the corridors of the newsroom, screaming on top of our voices to be heard to the other end
(Social distancing was the reason. Hahaaa….).
To broadcast the right news was the major responsibility on our shoulders.
While I was using Safari, I stumbled upon a beautiful quote on the World Health Organisation by a fellow journalist.
It read, - “Despite the risks, I felt it was a really important subject to cover. To my knowledge, Varsha – it is one of the only stories in the world, except perhaps the Second World War, which affects absolutely everyone,”
We were all getting into the groove of the new normal. It was already 2 months and the nation was still in lockdown phase.
Masks were on.
Sanitizers were placed right at the entrance, like sacred water in temple.
To add to this, we were working twice as hard to make the ends meet.
Everyday looked unprecedented, unpredictable.
The entire world was at a cessation.
There were many firsts since the last few months.
The UN Security Council met via a virtual conference for the first time ever on March 24th.
Along with which the Voting was carried out remotely and they worked from home for the very first time.
New York City St Patrick’s Day Parade was postponed ever since its 258-year-old historical ceremony.
This was the first time ever!
Wimbledon championship was cancelled!
Indian Premier League was postponed!
Olympics Games were also cancelled since its 124 years of inception!
In 167 years, Indian Railways stopped functioning.
Pollution was completely under control!
The Carbon Dioxide emission levels fell because of the lockdown!
Also, the only thing that was constant among people keeping their status, indifferences in casteism, was – CORONA.
Be it on social media, or news, or casual conversations between people, of course over a phone call.
At the risk of sounding callous, I’d like to admit that it was an exciting time as a journalist for me.
We had so much to cover!
So many news updates and the feeling of living through a historic time kept me going.
I did not complain about going to work because, why would I?
The biggest crisis of the decade was unfolding in front of my eyes and I was getting to be in a newsroom that was on its feet.
The fact that things were going to be much more dire hadn’t dawned upon me just yet.
I hadn’t quite prepared for how much things were going to change, but I guess with a pandemic at my doorstep, what else could I have expected?
A few months into the pandemic, I would test positive for Coronavirus, not once, but TWICE and everything I knew about my priorities and my life would change.
September 13! The day with unforgettable memories.
Just returned from work after long frantic day at office.
Being a journalist, running from pillar to post of one of the busiest cities of the country is definitely a Herculean task.
The city of magic and madness!
The city that never sleeps!
The city of dreams!
The city of Mumbai!
Many taglines to it.
A girl from a small town in Haryana with a reverie of embarking my journey into journalism.
It was successful two years to it.
“Varsha. Please…. head towards KEM Hospital and Cooper Hospital. There is a sudden upsurge in COVID cases….
And some chaos at the place. We need to report it.”– said team head, Mr. Rathod.
Picking up the brand-new accessory of the year – MASK; most important one, the team marched towards the site in pursuit of a BREAKING NEWS!
It was a complete mess outside the hospital. People were scattered and in search of bed for patients.
The hospital staff tried their best in controlling the mob.
All in all, a total chaos.
“Giving an update right from the ground!
We are in the middle of June; the cases are spiking up to about 60k on an average per day along with increases fatality rates.
This is an alarming situation for the nation. Circumstances are grim in every nook and corner.
Patients are dying in search of a bed……”.
as I reported from hospital site; I had slight fatigue.
September 13th, call me superstitious or irrational, it was a Wednesday of all days.
13th is considered inauspicious, a fear or phobia persists among few of the many; called parakevidekatriaphobia.
This is a phobia where a person can incur financial loss if invested on this day, or avoid travel or marriage or other important deals.
Temperature in my body and the twilight raised concurrently
I never visited hospital in the recent past, even for a small prick or a cut. I was shit scared of needles.
Just implored with all my strength to not land up there. However, the situation worsened with a box to be unlocked for the most implausible experiences.
The swab collection to run for detection was the most annoying as the tip was just prodded right beneath the nose and above.
Tears rolled down the cheek.
Swab collector who visited home told that results were to come by subsequent day.
That night was unforgettable!
Mind is the worst enemy at times. Sleep was more far than ever.
Like the computer with a zeros and ones for binary, fluxes persisted between positives and negatives hovering in mind.
Am I negative?
Am I positive?
Positive…. Negative….
Spirits in a lowest level possible.
“The Obstacle Is the Way: The Timeless Art of Turning Trials into Triumph,” by Ryan Holiday was on the study.
I picked up the book and started to read to stay as motivated as possible.
The night felt the longest ever, even than December 21st. Without even with much of realisation, I felt asleep over the sofa unaware of the stormy news on its arrival the next day.
I woke up to a phone call from an unknown number around 9:00 in the morning.
Wondering who it could be I received the prospected not-so-positive call. The caller on the other end, -
“Hello. Good morning. Am I speaking to Ms. Varsha?
This is a call to inform about your RT-PCR reports.
Gulping in my own saliva, coughing on and off, thoughts hovered in my mind in a queue.
What would it be?
What If it comes with complications?
While I was immersed in my own reflections and assumptions, -
Hello ma’am…. Are you there or hung up?
I replied back “Yes. I am very much here. Please tell me about the test results?”
“Sorry to inform that you have been tested positive for COVID-19.
Not to worry, you will have to stay quarantined for 14 days.
Our team of doctors will always be at your disposal whenever required….
uhmm….
May I know about your symptoms?
*Coughing intermittently*;
I replied, -
“I…. I have slight cough, cold, not so pleasing itchiness, most of all, fatigue, weakness and sudden rise in temperature in the evening.”
“Sure ma’am. Any drop in the breathing levels?
We shall send our able medical team for check-up.
Meanwhile please keep monitoring your temperature and oxygen saturation levels.
Hope you have the suitable devices – Thermometer and pulse oximeter.
Take care and stay calm at all given times!.”, and she hung up the call.
After the not so positive call, I was taken aback for a moment.
Mustering all the courage I had, I repeated the words in my mind, -
“So, I have also added to the numbers. Another patient count supplemented by a journalist.
All is going to be well.”
A new set of questions buzzed in my mind –
What if I had given it to someone else? How bad is this going to be? And the most obvious question – What next?’
Thus, embarking the start of the inconceivable 14 days of my life!
From reporting the daily status of the country to being one among the case tally was a difficult task to gulp.
Alongside with these contemplations, I picked up the thermometer from the first aid kit to check temperature which read 99.9 degrees.
I felt like entire heat of the sun surrounded me, suddenly feeling tired and fatigue.
I could not move an inch suddenly. It could be because of the mental exertion more than the physical one.
Swallowing an analgesic, I decided to sleep for a while.
But just lied on the bed, it felt like the longest waiting days of my life.
Started to think about various case scenarios I had come across within these few months and got cynical.
While I was trying to fall asleep, but in vain as phone buzzed yet again.
Worried who it could it be, I received in despair.
“Hello, Am I speaking to Ms. Varsha?
This is Dr. Arya, from the medical team.
I heard that you have fever and chills along with cough, cold.
We shall be sending paramedics to sanitize your house and provide you medicines.”
She also reassured that young people of my age were infected before with similar symptoms.
Also, they had high recovery rate. So, not to worry, apparently!
Just like that, something that had just been a news story far away, a virus that was infecting millions of people I didn’t know, was in my body.
Then began the plethora of events to trouble me very first day of my quarantine life!
The new normal!
Phew!
The fever which persisted since yesterday rose to 100 degrees.
Cold and cough worsened the next day, but no breathing issues.
The pulse oximeter read 96. So, everything looked normal.
As that was the major concern among patients, and my worry was the same too.
Apprehension for the next hour was to inform parents back at home in Bihar. I had shifted to Mumbai with dreams to fulfil.
Since the time pandemic has stepped into our lives, there was continuous pressure from home to return as there was lockdown imposed in the entire nation.
As usual, mother’s emotional blackmails and father’s orders queued up. But in vain. Duty came first.
LIFE OF A JOURNALIST, it was!
It took a mountain of reasons and bahanas to persuade them and let me stay back. It felt a great sense of responsibility to work at these testing times.
Doctors, nurses and other health care professionals are functioning round the clock.
There lies our responsibility as journalists to pass over real and absolute news to the public with awareness. Hence, I decided to stay back.
“Calling…. Baba…”,
as my phone ringed, I wondered what was at stake now.
Anxiety started to kick in.
Yet, I received the call.
I used to catch up with family over a phone call, and we had a casual conversation about the pandemic taking a toll on lives and human kind.
But this time I had to inform that I was also included in the statistics.
Swallowing my own saliva, *trying to adjust my voice coughing* responded, -
“Hello, Baba. Kaise ho?
(How are you doing?).
My father had sixth sense, or rather all fathers and mothers do, through which they can figure out if we are sick or completely well.
He replied back, “Sab theek hain na, betaji? (Everything is good at your end right, dear daughter?).
I was always Daddy’s Little Princess who was pampered to bits.
Yet responsible!
And never hid major milestones from him. I informed him, -
“I have been tested positive for COVID. Nothing to worry.
I have had the medical advice and monitoring temperature and oxygen levels….”
Even before I could finish my sentence, my mother overheard the conversation from the back replied, -
“Pack your bags and come home right away.”
Tears, concerns, bewildered responses were thrown at me by my parents. It took an ounce and more to calm them down and tell,
“I am getting better. Have been told to quarantine for about 14 days. Doctors and medical experts are just a phone call away”.
I knew there would be sleepless nights both in Mumbai and Begusarai.
But life had to move on!
There was a sense of comfort which set in after the call.
While I was immersed in my own thoughts, heard a knock at the door. I opened, to my surprise there was note along with a cup of tea.
The mug read – “Strong is fighting. It is hard and it is painful and is every day.”
I took the tray with the cup and few cookies. I couldn’t be more thankful for having such a generous flatmate.
Thanks a ton, Sindhu!
She was an aspiring post graduate student in Business Management.
She had chosen a city far away from home, Bengaluru.
Ever grateful to have her at my back!
With sipping every drop from the cup, I felt so enriched. But throat still had itchy sensation, like never before.
Small bites of cookie felt tough to swallow with sore throat.
My phone rang again, I headed with lot of ambiguity of who it could me.
To my sigh it was Sindhu.
“Hello, Varsha. Did you take the tray? Coffee and Cookies.
A great combination indeed, right?”
“Coffeeeee….?
I startled while I sipped the next drop of the beverage, was tea in my thoughts all this while.
To my understanding of the symptoms associated with COVID-19, I had lost my sense for taste and smell.
And next few days, my taste buds had gone for a toss. I could literally not differentiate between sambar and rasam.
Phew!
I sat in silence trying to process things I had to be heading toward
Another daunting question that hovered was, - “What could the possibility of infecting Sindhu, my flatmate could be?”.
I instantaneously called her back and told her to get herself tested. However, she did not show off any symptoms so far.
Hence, So far so good.
With thoughts overcrowded, I closed my mind trying to sleep at night.
The doze of medicines made me drowsy, little did I realise when I slipped into the lap of Hypnos, the Greek Goddess of Sleep, or in desi way, Nidradevi….
Hahahaa….
As I woke up in the morning, the best emotion to describe the amount of infamous fatigue I suffered with –
I felt like a bus hit me and I lied flat on the floor.
It was a bizarre experience!
I was also well aware that it was just the beginning of symptoms to set in and would turn severe in the next 5 – 6 days.
All set to work from home, as I took out my laptop out from where it was chilling all night, calls started bombarding.
Friends and family.
Concerned colleagues.
Everyone asked about my well-being.
The major concern was how my team head would react to my health concerns.
As expected, I received the call. It was the team head, Mr. Rathod.
“He…ll... oooo… Varsha. How are you doing? Don’t worry.
Everything can be co-ordinated from home.
You can deliver your inputs with less hassle.
No worries.
Also, please take adequate amounts of rest with proper medications”
Mr. Rathod hung the phone after a brief conversation. He was always to the point. Never did he beat around the bush.
I was all prepped to accept the brunt of the happenings. But the support and encouragement I received from my entire staff was exemplary.
The cherry on the top of the cake was the rare wise words from Mr. Rathod, who was Mr. Sarcasm.
What a sigh of relief that was!
They offered to send me food for whenever possible. The support system they were ready to be was the highlight.
Forever indebted to my workplace.
Constant itchiness and fatigue were the companions for my quarantine alone time.
Along with which, cough and cold were the companions. I had learned to live with a different taste of my tongue as well as my life.
Everything around changed.
Our workplace! Our life style!
I was reporting right from home.
Yay! It was the new normal!
Emails and WhatsApp messages would be filled with conversations regarding statistics around corona was the BREAKING NEWS at all media centres.
Thank you for being my go-to medical advice, Dear Roop….
You have been an amazing friend I could ever ask for.
You have been on the speed dial ever since I have contracted the virus.
We have not met since a long time, yet you took it upon you as responsibility, as a doctor, to motivate me in these tough times.
A small thanks would not suffice for the constant monitor you have been doing in the last 10 days. My conversations of reassurance and advice became an important part of my day.”
The quarantine period was reduced from 14 days to 12 days with advice from medical grounds.
Symptoms also had vanished, be it fever, or cold, or cough.
I could relish my coffee with a book by my favourite corner, the balcony.
That feeling, Ahhaaa – enigmatic!
Out of words.
Thanks to the universe!
Thanks to you!
Likewise, I was concerned and anxious of people who had grave indicators of the disease, and battling life and death.
Kudos to the entire medical fraternity to fighting this pandemic at the forefront.
Thanks a million!
Thanks a ton!
I was sceptical to step out and resume work without a negative report.
What if I would transfer it someone else?
Why should they suffer? Hence decided to have a run through for RT PCR.
I had to wait for 24 hours to receive the results. Thanks to the Lord! I tested negative.
Phew!
What a sigh of relief.
Now I am going back to work from tomorrow. Hail the fate.
Thanks for being there always.
Bye!”
(scene shifts to brother sister conversation)
“Journalists are also toiling their hard, Right puta?
One of the group D workers was telling that his family members were glued to TV and watching news continuously.
And they were all saturated!
But on the other hand, job of a journalist was to put out information to the world.
Varsha was one such amazing journalist. Hope to see more positive endeavours from her end.
Hope everyone ensures to work positively.
Ok. Bye!”
(scene shifts to 2030)
“Yes! No field of career is less significant. We have been told to respect right from ASHA workers to someone occupying a higher post.
Pandemic driven journalism had its own share of job insecurity. Now, as the internet has swept away with smart phones with every other person.
News is at the finger tips now! I somehow miss the old school DD news with 15 minutes coverage for every two hours.
Old school bro, update yourself! – that was one such complaint Mishti always had from me.
Old songs, old movies, old everything! Rightly said, Old is Gold!
I soon got back to Riya. She was so comfortable with Pihu. Pihu would demand to be taken to hospital after school.
They had become best friends now!
I hope this will help her recover soon.