Kabaddi, kabaddi; I do not know why my school days suddenly appeared before me when I was surrounded by others preventing my reach to the borderline. I must slip through the weakest point of the firmly held hands of many. I try to escape, in vain, despite a bit of deceit and a supportive referee. The opponent team is euphoric as I settle down, sulking. A similar game was on for nearly two years, as I had succeeded in dodging the Covid virus, most part without any vaccines, as none were available then.
Between March and April 2021, I got vaccinated with two shots of vaccines. I guess the vaccines lose their potency after a while; the news states three months from the second dose. Most like me may feel eternally immune after the second dose and may have started normal lives. But wait! We are roaming merely with surmises. A third booster dose is a must, as is talked of now. Countries like Israel have started administering even a fourth dose to those above sixty years old.
It all began three weeks ago, with an uneasiness, followed by fatigue and body pain. It progressed with a bad throat, to the extent that those on the other end thought it was my wife and not me addressing them. I had difficulty convincing them that my throat had done a digbaji, a somersault. The voice, until now sounding from inside a well, soon became from a dark abyss that even I could not hear.
I must say a few words about our cook, from Bihar, who could effortlessly dish out any continental, Chinese, north or South Indian varieties. His sambhar is legendary, our neighbour choosing an entry for a quick grab. Next to my throat was my nose. Save for running like a street-side tap, it had completely lost the sense of smell. I tried hard to inhale the smell of tiger balm or the vapour of Karvol, a more aggressive one. It was no use. Another prime aspect of my senses was down and out.
That was when I decided to get a test done for Dengue, now widely prevalent. Costing a cool 5K, it showed nothing. The test was repeated, but the result was no different. My mind warned me, ‘get an RT-PCR done.’ The man appeared in a PPE kit. It was kind of funny, as I had already two vaccines. ‘I couldn’t be infected with Covid.’ I had to wait for the next few hours, and the mailed report claimed positive. The report is an oxymoron when positive could mean negative and negative, positive news.
My wife quickly acted, from hot Kada- a concoction of Tulsi leaves, black pepper, clove, and a few other herbs in place of water; oximeter every few minutes, crocin for my body pain whenever, and isolating me in the farthest room. Tons of advisory came from doctors, Covid affected, a vet expert (!), friends and relatives. The treatment included vibhuti (the holy ash) and picture laminates of several gods under my pillow.
Someone had even brought a dozen huge papaya leaves, which could have filled all the three refrigerators at home! So much was their love and concern. I look around as I see a steamer, a balloon-blower, oximeter, glucometer, hot water bag as well as cold press, a kilo or close tablets, a litre of cough-syrup etc. herbal decoctions etc. etc. All this because I might’ve missed wearing the mask for a few minutes!
Today, the Tamil Associations of Kolkata, led by Bharati Tamil Sangam and Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, have organized an award ceremony. The Governor Manipur was doing the honours, which I had to forsake, for the safety of all concerned.
I’m getting better, but a full recovery could take two more weeks, during which time I must guard against Pneumonia or any other infection. It’s one of the rare periods when the mind is unhumorous and bland. But I’m not the one to give up easily.
I thank Dr. Sundar and scores of friends but have to end with a warning: ‘You catch, you suffer.’ So, don’t catch Covid and stay safe.
Kabaddi, Kabaddi!
Sampath Kumar
Intrépide Voix
