Lock-unlock-lock-unlock...

From immunity-boosting lemons to panic buying of pulse oximeters --- Punekars have again stocked up everything today, as the city is bracing for another 10 days of 'strict lockdown' in the times of coronavirus-induced pandemic. Frankly, i don't know where we are leading to with so many lockdowns. For the record, the city is going to witness sixth phase of lockdown, and ironically enough --- amid Unlock 2.0. 

What always concerned me during the ever-stretching lockdown, as cordon sanitaire is popularly known in this part of the world since March, how someone will deal with mishaps at home --- a broken kitchen tap or short-circuit of fuse or even a broadband modem issue. I remember on a winter afternoon, the shower tap of our apartment's bathroom suddenly going bust, as i was taking a bath, and i could hardly control anything. By the time we, thankfully my wife was at home then, could switch off the connecting pipeline and call a plumber, our room was overflowing; and, i had to take a leave from office just to put things in order.

If something happens today, how will i, or anyone, manage? One of my colleagues suffered internet breakdown in early-April when we had just started working from home, a process not unknown to many software engineers but a complete new aspect in the print newspaper business. Even six months ago, i could not imagine desk editors and designers are working from different locations and bringing out the paper every evening in a seamless process in just about four-five hours. After going through the trauma of intermittent broadband for a few days, he got hold of a portable Wi-Fi dongle, and when we were speaking yesterday, i got to know that now his house has five different sets of back-ups from as many internet service providers. 

Not everyone can stock internet devices like him to tide over such an unprecedented situation. But how is it justified to pick up 23 packs of hand sanitisers? Or, 8 litres of milk, especially when this is part of essential commodity? Shops selling milk and medicines will remain open in Pune from July 14 to 18 but nothing else --- nor even vegetables or grocery items. I feel lockdowns have led to more stress among all of us than serving any real purpose. Those who still feel lockdown will kill the virus or break the chain of infection should look at the health stats after it was lifted. And, the country, or any city, can be under lockdown forever; it's unrealistic. Between July 14 and 24, there will be less infections in Pune but what will happen after July 25? 

What we need is awareness about how to keep ourselves safe with precautions. Ruining the economy, on track to rebound, is not the call of the hour. Also, i am confident i would not see a sea change in health infrastructure in the city after 10 days of lockdown either. Then why should we need such frequent cordon sanitaire? 

On and Off: Lockdown Saga

What's on? And, what's off? My days have never oscillated between these two extremes than in the past three months. And, this lockdown-induced off-on phenomenon started when there was no cordon sanitaire in this country. 

On January 30, India reported its first case in Kerala's Thrissur. Most of us thought that like Sars or Nipah or Ebola or Mers, this too will be contained soon although the nCoV's first strain was found in China's Wuhan at least 30 days before that. On January 29, World Health Organization (WHO) issued its first advice on the use of masks. This led to a flurry of thoughts among people while several were of the opinion that masks are not necessary to curb the virus, especially the advice noted that 'medical mask is not required, as no evidence is available on its usefulness to protect non-sick persons'. To me, that was the first off-on dilemma --- whether you need a mask or not!

About a fortnight back then, in mid-January, when i went to pick up some masks with my friend to a neighbourhood medicine shop, the imported N95 masks were found at Rs 100 apiece. Shortly, the imported varieties were off the shelves, and replaced by cheaper local varieties at Rs 50-60 per piece. My friend, who began using it during his commute in January, was ridiculed by his colleagues till each of them got one from the office in third week of March for mandatory use. Even on March 9 when i met two doctor friends, neither of them was wearing a mask. Incidentally, that was the day Pune recorded its first covid case.

Masks are probably the first weapon --- second being washing hands with soap or rubbing the palms with alcohol-based sanitisers --- to win the battle against covid. Incidentally, masks were made mandatory during Spanish flu of 1918 as is evident in this photo of a New York postman. 

Most of the on and off orders began once the country had gone to strict lockdown mode from March 25. It may be funny but worth recalling that several such orders had, or still have, been operating on different layers. Something what the Union government allows to operate is also okayed by the state government but the local civic body does not approve it, which however gets the police station-level nod but does not reach your doorstep, as the housing complex bosses have the last word.

  

From housemaids to milk packets, from newspapers to liquor shops, from cab aggregators to food delivery partners --- separate and ever-changing rules for each sector baffled me, like thousands others. Not only the tangible ones, think about the apps. Of course, it would have been prudent if all establishments, be it government or private, adhere to only one app, maybe the centralised contact tracing app Aarogya Setu, downloaded by 13.86 crore of Indians (about 10% of total population) as on July 6. But that's not the case. From government departments to private offices to even local departmental stores began developing apps during the lockdown. And, when Unlock 1.0 was rolled out last month (ironically, amid lockdown!), such apps made way to homescreen of our smartphones. If you don't have a smartphone today (only 25.3% Indians had smartphones in September 2019), then you are doomed, and may face difficulty to access basic facilities, like taking a train.

Adding to the confusion are numerous orders-revised orders-clarifications by the government about whether this kind of shop should remain open or even asymptomatic patients should be at home or not. Like many an archaic British-era law, another such rule, Epidemic Diseases Act of 1897 (yes, not 1997, which i thought a typo coming across for the first came in a government order in March), has been imposed on us to tackle this crisis. It reminded me of West Bengal government's land acquisition in Singur in 2008 under an act that itself was 115 years old that time!

Under this 1897 act, sale of tobacco is apparently banned during epidemic, but what about the liquor sale? It got a nod as it would ramp up revenue, as if no tax is levied on cigarettes. Fuel refill stations in Pune were open to only essential service vehicles between 10 am and 2 pm, in clear indication that nCoV remains inactive during that time. But such vehicles could not refill tyres as all garages were closed for two months. Look for a garage that was operating surreptitiously to fix a tyre if that goes flat --- probably local admin wanted that.

So were the vegetables and grocery shops opened between 10 am and 12 noon, leading to crowded markets but babus were hardly convinced. They thought that it's perfectly alright, and when the government announced one day that shops selling essential items can be opened for 12 hours till 7 pm, the next day local police reimposed the old order! There is hardly any respite from such confusing orders and executions.

I came across letters written to the editor of The Times of India while researching how people reacted to the plague epidemic that struck Bombay in 1896. Not to my surprise, people almost 125 years ago also asked for proper isolation against the similar backdrop of fears and stigma of a contagious disease like today, fuelled by perplexing civic orders!

Back to Roots

Usually, i don't discuss politics with the mass on social media because most of the people out there flaunting their knowledge about everything hardly knows how the government, especially at the grassroots level, functions. For example, most of my friends don't know what a three-tier panchayat is or what a borough office does in a city like Kolkata. Even at a higher level, intricacies of governance are not known to us; and, i don't blame them for this because we are never encouraged to learn so-called mundane stuff of life.

Exactly a month back when one of my friends, who stays abroad, shared a positive story from an English daily that highlighted how the chief minister of West Bengal doled out Rs 20,000 each to 5 lakh cyclone Amphan-affected families in 9 days since the severe storm had devastated a vast area of south Bengal, i sent him a text. "It has gone back to the party leaders from beneficiaries, who hardly got anything left to repair their houses," i wrote. 

My friend agreed that it's not possible for him to gather details in abroad although such a gesture from the CM should be appreciated. And, we ended the chat with me saying that i also want cash should reach right people at this hour of crisis. 

Today, when reports are coming in from several block offices in worst-affected districts of south Bengal that people are queuing up to return money, it hardly surprises me.

My question is: what went wrong in end-May or early-June when the first tranche of cash was to be disbursed among villagers without a roof when the cyclone had struck on May 20-21? First, it was not possible like in earlier years that people throng BDO's offices for cash, as with Aadhaar linking in force, the amount is directly transferred to the beneficiaries. That leads to the second argument: who would draw up the list of beneficiaries in the aftermath of Amphan? As has been the rule, block-level government officers inspect a village and draw a list of families entitled for any relief operations. 

The twist in the tragic tale lies in the second factor. Instead of asking the government officers, the administration requested grassroots-level lawmakers to make the list. This logic was based on two other factors --- 1. most government offices were working with skeletal staff because of coronavirus pandemic 2. fast and timely disbursement of relief in cash was the administration's focus.

Once that was decided, the rest has been a simple process. Almost every part-level member and village heads came up with list of families having political inclination towards their parties, mainly the ruling one. And, thus opened the Pandora's Box. True to the news story that the government indeed sent millions in total to accounts of beneficiaries but that included some real and some bogus. Today, the bogus ones, and several ruling party workers, are returning money in lakhs back to the exchequer under instructions from higher-ups but have the all real sufferers got all of Rs 20,000? No.

The administration, or even the party, should find answers why someone has to part with almost entire amount of Rs 20,000 after withdrawing it from bank, and is left with just Rs 150. Such stories are galore, and known to the top party brass. If i get such information sitting hundreds of kilometres away from ground zero, i hope that officials know much better than me, and party bosses are the best to answer the question. 

The ruling party, Trinamool Congress, has less than a year to retain power in the Assembly even as its main opponent, Bharatiya Janata Party, had an astounding vote share in last year's general elections. It's barely 3 per cent vote share that Trinamool had an edge over BJP last year. In 2008 panchayat elections, Trinamool catapulted itself as the emerging party with a strong leadership that steered it with winning 14 seats in 2014 Lok Sabha elections and finishing it off by winning the 2011 elections on a huge margin. South Bengal has been its fortress since its electoral debut in 1998 general elections in which it won seven seats. Later, its first zilla parishad-level victories were from East Midnapore and South 24-Parganas --- both are hit by Amphan this year with the latter bearing the brunt with its neighbour North 24-Parganas.

In a nutshell, Trinamool has a tough time ahead, particularly after losing seven Lok Sabha seats to BJP in north Bengal; barring one constituency, Lok Sabha seats in six districts in the western part of the state also went to BJP. If such corruption in the aftermath of a natural calamity is not plugged in south Bengal soon, it'll be difficult for Trinamool to return to Nabanna next summer.