I wish I could tell you that this is all just a terrible, horrible nightmare.
Instead, we have this, an apocalyptic, dystopian twilight zone framed in Gilead, aka Aryavarta and every day on repeat, rewind, with seemingly, no end in sight.
Today, there has been an increased number of posts on civil servants, police officers, teachers, health care workers, many in their thirties who have succumbed to the virus.
Today, as every other day, there are exhausted doctors, working the phones, volunteers, fathers, daughters and friends, who have tried so valiantly and failed, pleading helplessness, that they could not save their loved ones.
Today, there are those like us, who are burdened with the overwhelming sense of guilt, the ‘thank God I am still ok but don’t think it, don’t jinx it, (in Nepali we call it lodhar lagaunu) because I might be next?’
Today is also this…
A day when I do not want to hear, see, feel anything anymore.
In all of the grief and numbness, I have to tell myself, it is all right.
It is all right to feel all of these emotions.
Guilt.
Because I cannot comfort those around me, whose loved ones battle the virus; what do I say? the words choking in, lost in the spaces between us ....
Because I cannot be with those who have held their loved ones for the last time, many not even that, to even to be able to just be there, hold them close and grieve with them....
Fear.
The palpable urge to NOT think of all the ways things could go sideways.
Anger.
The ever-increasing urge to scream and shout profanities (although in my head, I have, a million times).
And mostly this.
A mixture of dread, depression and this dank stench of death that seems to permeate every one and every thing.
Will we as a nation, a people rise above this?
Can we.....?
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