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

India is in one of the darkest moments since its independence as a second wave of Covid-19 crashes at breakneck speed.

The country had more than 386,000 new infections on Thursday, with more than 3,500 dead. Most experts say the death toll is much higher.

Prime Minister Narendra Modi and they have accused his government of exacerbating the crisis, after a sharp drop in cases because the country was not affected by claims that it was in the “end game” of the pandemic.

The latest wave has surpassed all that Covid-19 has suffered since it first hit. The country’s social, economic, and geographical divisions have been plentiful, affecting the rich and poor in rural and urban areas.

The uproar has been exacerbated by a shortage of supplies such as oxygen and new Covid-19 rescue variants. The new blockades will also hinder the recovery of the world’s fastest-growing economy.

Here are the stories of four people facing the crisis.

Aparna Hegde, Mumbai doctor

In the first wave of last year, the Aparna Hegde government had about 60 patients at the Cama hospital for women and children at the same time. As India’s second wave increased, 100 patients fell.

He said in stress hospitals it revealed a lack of public health training and chronic neglect. India spends only about 1 percent of its gross domestic product on the sector.

“We don’t learn at all from our mistakes,” he said. “The first wave was over and we didn’t think a second wave would come.”

The circumstances are so dire that Hegde was unable to secure the hospital bed and oxygen to his younger colleague who had no comorbidities in Delhi at the time of his rescue. “That young man wasn’t supposed to die,” he said.

Hegde, Armman, a non-profit organization that works with mothers and children, said the tension affects other areas of public health, which could have long-term consequences. He added that children’s immunization campaigns have been uprooted and that pregnant mothers are making efforts to receive treatment.

“It simply came to our notice then. That’s a disappointing heart, “he said.” That’s why it hurts so much more. “

Vishwanath Chaudhary, the main incinerator in Varanasi

The ancient city of Varanasi, on the banks of the sacred river Ganges, is a place where many Hindus want to be cremated, allowing their souls to complete their journey to heaven and free themselves from the cycle of birth and death.

But body feed to Hindu crematoria, as well as to Muslim or Christian cemeteries, it is constant.

Vishwanath Chaudhary, 39 raja, or the king, the caste Dom, who has worked in the crematoria of Varanasi for generations.

As the number of corpses arriving daily has risen to 100, compared to as few as 15 last year, the scorching heat and flaming jumps have become unbearable.

“Our family has traditionally managed incinerators for generations. No one has seen anything like it, ”Chaudhary said.

“[Last year] it was nothing like what we are seeing this time. The situation is dire, “he added.” In those moments, humanity is often lost. ”

The attack is so severe that it has sparked a shortage of timber in the Pyrenees because sellers are raising prices significantly.

Ram Vilas Gupta, immigrant worker in Chandaulin, Uttar Pradesh

More than 15 years ago, Ram Vilas Gupta left his family and village in the interior of India for the Mumbai metropolis, where he drove a taxi and lived with five bedrooms.

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

At the end of last year when many cases in India fell – and the economy hoped to roar – he returned to Mumbai and would soon bring in Covid’s previous month’s profit of Rs 18,000 ($ 243).

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

Now, back in his hometown and out of work, Gupta doesn’t know how to repay the 40,000-euro debt he took in 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 that is spreading from rural India will reach his hometown, a place that many still question.

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

Sourindra Bhattacharjee, University Professor of Delhi

Like so many others in recent weeks, 57-year-old Sourindra Bhattacharjee tried and failed to find her beloved hospital bed.

India’s middle and upper classes typically have access to health care around the world, even if the poor are dependent on low-funding government hospitals.

But now, even those who can afford it are struggling to get treatment.

After Bhattacharjee’s diabetic older sister Gouri’s blood oxygen level dropped below 80 percent, she consulted with doctors who advised her business professor to hospitalize her. A healthy reading of blood oxygen is over 90 percent.

When the beds in Delhi hospitals were filled, two attempts to get her sister treated failed. In an emergency room the doctor left him alone, pointing to a young man with an oxygen level of up to 13 percent. “Look at his reading,” the doctor said. “Now tell me, who should we choose?”

“I realized I couldn’t try,” Bhattacharje said. “I brought it home.” He found an oxygen cylinder for his sister, but did not have the necessary equipment to attach it to her.

Her sister is still at home with her while she tries to make sure she is cured, and that she is not infected. “It looks like it’s fixing it,” Bhattacharje said. “God has been kind to me.”

Additional report by Harry Dempsey in London