I’m coughing and sniffling even as I’m writing this. And I can see people glancing at me covertly, wondering if they need to cover their faces with their N95 masks (did the makers get into a copyright tussle with Nokia over the name, I wonder?), make a run for it, or trust in the Fates and believe that what I have is just common cold and not the dreaded Swine Flu.
Paranoia is the operative word right now. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve not been able to go anywhere or do anything without someone asking me to be careful, stay away from pigs (huh?!), not eat pork (double huh?!), and avoid crowded places.
My inbox has been flooded with forwards asking me to wash my hands often, get enough sleep, drink enough water, boost my immune system and keep myself informed.
Ok, so the advice is easy enough to follow, especially the last one—there is so much information on the H1N1 on the internet that I’ll need a weekend to get through it all. But in case I have contracted the virus, it’s not as easy to find out. The hospitals are overflowing with people—and hadn’t I been warned to stay away from crowded places?
Jokes aside, the situation I see around me has left me confused and concerned. I know the government has promised to do everything it can to solve the problem, but I don’t believe it. To me, most often than not, the government is all talk and no action. And I have a perfect example to illustrate the point.
I had recently been to Europe and, while in the continent, I had visited many of the H1N1 hotspots like Germany, Spain, Austria and the UK. So you would think that when I flew back to India, the screening at the airport would be strict and efficient? Well, it was anything but that.
I landed at Mumbai International airport at 3.40 a.m. and entered the terminal only to be greeted by a melee of people. It looked like the passengers from at least four different flights had been assembled in one dark, hot and stuffy hall. (Can you think of a better way of ensuring people get infected?)
A lady sat at the entrance with a scanner in her hand. But she had her eyes closed and her head cupped in her other hand. How she thought she would know if an infected person walked by, I have no clue. Any beep the scanner made would be drowned by the thunderous noise all about.
We were then given forms to fill—detailing where we had been and if we had come into contact with anyone with the flu. These were to be handed in to a doctor who would stamp it and let us exit the airport only if he or she were completely certain that we were not infected.
So, my form duly filled, I walked up to a long counter behind which were seated about 10 doctors. A lady who seemed sunk in ennui took it from me and stamped it without even bothering to scan the contents, let alone quiz me on whether I was exhibiting any symptoms. I could have sprouted pigs ears and a little curly tail, and still walked out of the airport without any problem.
So if this is how the government is stopping the virus from spreading, then forgive me if I place my hopes somewhere else—though I’m not too clear at the moment where that ‘somewhere’ is.
Meanwhile, there is only one thing that is entertaining me amidst all this mess—the SMSs that are flying around fast and thick. Here’s one I received hardly a minute ago: “Please do not discard your old brassieres. Cut out the cups and use them as masks to protect against Swine Flu. Issued in public interest by Baba Ramdev.”
That has set me laughing, and as a result, coughing. And I do believe my colleagues have had enough of speculating whether I am a carrier or not, and are planning to drop me out of the window so as to save themselves from an infection. So I’ll sign off and skedaddle. Keep safe and, yes, do avoid crowded places.
Paranoia is the operative word right now. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve not been able to go anywhere or do anything without someone asking me to be careful, stay away from pigs (huh?!), not eat pork (double huh?!), and avoid crowded places.
My inbox has been flooded with forwards asking me to wash my hands often, get enough sleep, drink enough water, boost my immune system and keep myself informed.
Ok, so the advice is easy enough to follow, especially the last one—there is so much information on the H1N1 on the internet that I’ll need a weekend to get through it all. But in case I have contracted the virus, it’s not as easy to find out. The hospitals are overflowing with people—and hadn’t I been warned to stay away from crowded places?
Jokes aside, the situation I see around me has left me confused and concerned. I know the government has promised to do everything it can to solve the problem, but I don’t believe it. To me, most often than not, the government is all talk and no action. And I have a perfect example to illustrate the point.
I had recently been to Europe and, while in the continent, I had visited many of the H1N1 hotspots like Germany, Spain, Austria and the UK. So you would think that when I flew back to India, the screening at the airport would be strict and efficient? Well, it was anything but that.
I landed at Mumbai International airport at 3.40 a.m. and entered the terminal only to be greeted by a melee of people. It looked like the passengers from at least four different flights had been assembled in one dark, hot and stuffy hall. (Can you think of a better way of ensuring people get infected?)
A lady sat at the entrance with a scanner in her hand. But she had her eyes closed and her head cupped in her other hand. How she thought she would know if an infected person walked by, I have no clue. Any beep the scanner made would be drowned by the thunderous noise all about.
We were then given forms to fill—detailing where we had been and if we had come into contact with anyone with the flu. These were to be handed in to a doctor who would stamp it and let us exit the airport only if he or she were completely certain that we were not infected.
So, my form duly filled, I walked up to a long counter behind which were seated about 10 doctors. A lady who seemed sunk in ennui took it from me and stamped it without even bothering to scan the contents, let alone quiz me on whether I was exhibiting any symptoms. I could have sprouted pigs ears and a little curly tail, and still walked out of the airport without any problem.
So if this is how the government is stopping the virus from spreading, then forgive me if I place my hopes somewhere else—though I’m not too clear at the moment where that ‘somewhere’ is.
Meanwhile, there is only one thing that is entertaining me amidst all this mess—the SMSs that are flying around fast and thick. Here’s one I received hardly a minute ago: “Please do not discard your old brassieres. Cut out the cups and use them as masks to protect against Swine Flu. Issued in public interest by Baba Ramdev.”
That has set me laughing, and as a result, coughing. And I do believe my colleagues have had enough of speculating whether I am a carrier or not, and are planning to drop me out of the window so as to save themselves from an infection. So I’ll sign off and skedaddle. Keep safe and, yes, do avoid crowded places.
