Stories from the interior of the Covid disaster in India: “No one has seen anything like it”

India is in one of the darkest moments of independence, as a catastrophic second Covid-19 wave spreads it at breakneck speed.

The country recorded the all-time high of more than 386,000 new infections on Thursday, along with more than 3,500 deaths. Most experts say the actual death toll is much higher.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi and his government have been accused of exacerbating the crisis by not preparing after a sharp drop in cases that caused the country to be in the “end” of the pandemic.

The latest wave has surpassed everything it has endured since Covid-19 first appeared. It has traversed the multiple social, economic and geographical fractures of the country, affecting both the rich and the poor in rural and urban areas.

The turbulence has intensified with the shortage of life-saving supplies, such as oxygen, and new variants of Covid-19. The new blockades also threaten to derail the recovery of what had been the world’s fastest-growing large economy.

Here are the stories of four people facing the crisis.

Aparna Hegde, doctor in Bombay

During the first wave last year, Aparna Hegde’s ward at Cama Hospital, run by the government for women and children, had about 60 patients at a time. When India’s second wave increased, the number of patients soared to 100.

She said the tension in hospitals had exposed the lack of preparation and chronic neglect of public health. India only spends about 1% of the gross domestic product of the sector.

“We don’t learn anything from our mistakes,” he said. “The first wave ended and we didn’t think a second wave could come.”

Circumstances are so dire that Hegde was unable to secure a hospital bed and oxygen for a younger comorbid partner in Delhi in time to save him. “This young man shouldn’t have died,” he said.

Hegde, who runs Armman, a nonprofit organization that works with mothers and children, said the strain affected other areas of public health, with potentially long-term consequences. Childhood vaccination campaigns had been derailed and pregnant mothers were having trouble receiving treatment, she added.

“It simply came to our notice then. That’s what tears it apart, “he said.” That’s why it hurts so much more. “

Vishwanath Chaudhary, chief burner to Varanasi

The ancient city of Varanasi, on the banks of the sacred river Ganges, is where many Hindus want to be cremated, which they believe allows their soul to complete their journey to heaven and free themselves from the cycle of birth and death.

But the flow of bodies in Hindu crematoria, as well as in Muslim or Christian cemeteries, it is relentless.

Vishwanath Chaudhary, 39, is the raja, or king, of the Dom caste, who has worked for generations on the cremation grounds of Varanasi.

With the number of bodies arriving daily rising to 100 (compared to just 15 last year), the scorching heat and jumping flames have become unbearable.

“Our family has traditionally been involved in the management of crematoria for generations. No one has ever seen anything like it, ”said Chaudhary.

“[Last year] it was nothing like what we attended this time. The situation is horrible, “he added. “Right now humanity is often lost.”

The attack is so severe that it has caused wood shortages for the pyres, with sellers raising prices significantly.

Ram Vilas Gupta, migrant worker in Chandauli, Uttar Pradesh

More than 15 years ago, Ram Vilas Gupta left his family and village in the vast hinterland of India for the metropolis of Bombay, where he drove a taxi and lived from five to one room.

Like millions of other migrants, the 45-year-old was forced to make an epic and desperate trip home last year after the country went into a national lockdown and his savings ran out.

With the load of cases from India falling sharply towards the end of last year (and the economy was expected to roar again), he returned to Bombay and soon earned his pre-Covid monthly income until 18,000 rupees ($ 243).

However, the recovery did not last. In late March, with a second wave of Covid-19 from Mumbai, its taxi customers stopped coming and its profits dried up.

Back in his hometown and out of work once again, Gupta does not know how he will pay the 40,000 rupees of debt he assumed during last year’s crisis. “What to do?” He said. “All my savings [are gone]. We had a very difficult time. “

His biggest fear now is that the virus, which is sweeping through rural India, will reach its people, where many still doubt it exists.

“That’s why I came to the village, because of the crown. Some say there is no crown. But I’m very scared. “

Sourindra Bhattacharjee, University Professor in Delhi

Like so many others in recent weeks, Sourindra Bhattacharjee, 57, tried and failed to find a hospital bed for her loved one.

India’s middle and upper classes tend to enjoy access to world-class medical care, even though the poor depend on poorly funded government hospitals.

But now, even those who can afford it have a hard time getting a treatment.

After Bhattacharjee’s older diabetic sister Gouri’s blood oxygen levels dropped by 80%, the business professor consulted the doctors who advised her to admit her. A healthy reading of oxygen in the blood exceeds 90%.

But with the beds in Delhi hospitals full, her two attempts to receive treatment for her sister failed. In an emergency room, a doctor pulled him away and pointed to a young man with oxygen levels up to 13%. “Look at his reading,” the doctor told him. “Now tell me, who should we choose?”

“I realized it didn’t make sense to try it,” Bhattacharjee said. “I took her home.” He found an oxygen tank for his sister, but did not have the necessary equipment to attach it.

His sister is still at home with him as he tries to make sure he recovers and not get infected himself. “It looks like it’s ready,” Bhattacharjee said. “God has been kind to me.”

Additional reports from Harry Dempsey in London