There are any number of anecdotes and stories on social media about how it has been almost impossible to get hospital beds for COVID-19 patients. Desperate relatives run from pillar to post, use every ‘contact’ they can reach to use some influence, and even post on social media, tagging the chief minister and the prime minister, but to no avail. Often these patients die, and the others from the family then have to get tested, which is again a rigmarole.
And if someone in your family is a heart patient or needs regular dialysis or has a sudden fall, then only divine intervention can help. Leave alone the much-maligned – and neglected and underfunded – public health system, which the middle-class otherwise studiously avoids, even our beautifully appointed and expensive private hospitals will have no time for you. If you do manage to get medical attention, prepare to pay a hefty bill. Don’t bank on your insurance company to pay up though, it will find enough loopholes to get out of that commitment.
The COVID-19 pandemic has exposed the deep systemic faults in the country which we knew about. At the same time, it has also shown that when it comes to the things that really matter, such as health, no one is insulated and everyone is equally vulnerable to these structural weaknesses. The better off may be more comfortable than slum dwellers, but they are not necessarily safer. This is something that the middle and upper middle-classes had never bargained for, and now they are shocked by this realization.
The signs were always there. The system was slowly shutting its doors to all except the truly wealthy and powerful, who are far removed from the gruesome reality.
Money and walls
In India, we aim to make money not just to live well and buy good things, but to create a wall around us to protect ourselves from the vagaries of quotidian Indian life. Money helps us avoid queues and dealing with petty officials in musty government offices, and to get things out of turn. It gets us access to important ‘names’ which can then be of help in say, getting admission to a school or college, or, should the need arise, in a situation that involves a police station. We can afford better hospitals and therefore (or so we think), better treatment.
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Not just for health, money is insurance against India itself, from its dirt, stink and pollution—it allows us to live a gated life. Our effort is, therefore, to make more and more money to live behind stronger and taller gates.
For the non-moneyed citizen, especially the poor, living in hardship is a fact of daily life. They experience these things every day—standing in long, barely moving queues only to end up dealing with unmoved petty officials, being treated badly by their employers, getting beaten up for no reason by the police—all this is their lot, and they eventually come to accept it.
To them, the mai-baap Sarkar was always a cold and distant presence, which could occasionally, in its own muddled and convoluted way, provide succor, even if it involved corruption and humiliation. They had to live with the system, there was no chance of by-passing it.
Faith in other institutions
They also had faith in other institutions, especially the media and the courts, even if these were difficult to access. A good journalist, a helpful lawyer, a judge committed to the high ideas of justice – they were all support systems, even allies of the truly vulnerable.
In the 1980s, a simple postcard sent by journalist Olga Tellis to the Supreme Court expressing anguish against a government drive to demolish slums in Mumbai during heavy rains was converted to a petition by the apex court and resulted in a landmark judgment. The court became a big supporter of citizens’ rights and kept the government on its toes – often, the poor were the big beneficiaries.
Not that the entire media was particularly sensitive, but there was much more room for stories that reflected the voices and concerns of the average citizen, rather only than the baubles and lifestyles of the rich. And the judiciary was definitely a more robust defender of fundamental rights, the shameful Emergency period apart.
For the honest, tax-paying citizen, these institutions represented hope. For the poor, the courts were a place where their appeal would be heard. The government could be callous, the petty official may be tyrannical, but all was not lost, one news story or an order from an angry judge would get things moving.
All that seems like a fairy tale now. The public disaffection with the media is not new, since in the post-liberalisation period, it sold its soul to advertisers and lost all connection with the citizens, viewing them as mere consumers or as voters to deliver to companies or politicians. If you are not powerful or glamourous, the media has no time for you.
No one, therefore, is surprised to see the media prostrating itself at the altar of Narendra Modi. No one really expects the media to do its job without fear or favour, since we all lost faith in it years ago.
But the capitulation of the Supreme Court has come as a shock. The Supreme Court’s recent pronouncements make it clear that their lordships have no time for fripperies like rights, or for reminding the government of its duties. The apex court’s recent statements, such as the one on migrant workers, should remove any doubts that may linger. Judges in the lower court still do their job diligently, but it is becoming harder and harder.
Don’t look towards the government
When the migrants began walking home on the highways, the better off turned their backs on those very people who serve their needs. Suddenly your own driver, plumber, maid became a pestilence who could be carrying a disease, or a treacherous bumpkin ready to desert their post. There are enough people who have come forward to help, but can we honestly say that this empathy is widespread?
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Here’s the irony though – soon, even those who are comfortably ensconced in jobs, will find that they can be discarded at a moment’s notice by employers who think of them only as overheads and cost-centres and will coolly axe hundreds of them without missing a heartbeat. All those EMI-obtained comforts will then vanish.
Don’t look at the government for help – hasn’t Prime Minister Modi said we must practice atmanirbharta? That’s not self-reliance –that translates as, “you are now on your own” and applies to all, whether migrant or yuppie or that retired person.