Separation from family in these times of COVID
My parents booked their tickets to come to the United States in January of 2020. The plan was to attend my commencement, tour New York City and Boston, visit family in New Jersey and then go back home to India.
To say that the pandemic threw a spanner in the machinery of this plan would be the understatement of the century. A more appropriate analogy would be to say that the pandemic threw a whole metaphorical toolbox into this plan and we were hit with the fragments. The commencement ceremony was canceled. We boxed ourselves in at home, turned the tickets into vouchers and refused to risk traveling even down the block.
As things began to clear up and vaccines came out, we began to feel cautiously optimistic. They talked about converting the vouchers back to tickets so they could spend the summer – and their silver anniversary – here with me in Albany.
Then came the second wave. Barely two weeks after their first shot of the Astra-Zeneca vaccine, my mother tested positive for COVID -19, putting both herself and my very immunocompromised father at risk. Thankfully, the first dose did her well, ensuring that what she had was nothing more intense than the flu. But not everyone in
India was as lucky.
I spent most of the spring watching the death toll in India
go up as hospitals ran out of beds, medication and oxygen. It was a terrifying time, a time I spent calling friend after friend, making sure that they were well. It contrasted sharply with my life in the United States as more people began to get vaccinated and some mask mandates were lifted.
The final blow came when the United States banned travelers from a number of countries, including India. The ban was understandable, one didn’t want international travelers causing a surge when numbers were just starting to come down. But as a family, it proved to be difficult.
At first, we waited. Waited for the cases back home to reduce, waited until my parents were fully vaccinated, waited until the Astra Zeneca vaccine, known colloquially as “Covisheild” in India, was recognized internationally.
Then the waiting turned into
desperation. The months passed, I attended the commencement by myself, my parents watching me graduate from Syracuse University virtually. My graduating from a foreign university had been a dream for my parents, something they had worked hard and painstakingly saved for. In a society where people saved this way only for their daughters’ weddings, they were insistent about ensuring I had a good education and it felt beyond unfair that they wouldn’t be able to watch me walk.
“At least the cats could watch this way,” my mother said, trying to find some humor in the situation.
As I flipped my tassel and threw my cap, I wondered if they would be able to identify the speck that I was in the livestream. I listened to Gov. Kathy Hochul speak at the ceremony, wondering when I would be able to take them around Albany and show them the Governor’s Mansion, tell them that the governor and I shared an alma mater. I posed for portraits alone, my pride eclipsed by their absence.
A few weeks later, we saw a ray of hope. The ban was going to be lifted. A date had been declared. We planned again, booked hotels, train tickets,
Airbnbs. The ban was lifted Nov. 8, and as I watched families across the United States reunite with their loved ones, I looked forward to my own. But nature had other plans.
A horrible cyclone hit Chennai, my hometown, the day they were to leave. It felt ungrateful to be annoyed as millions of homes were flooded if not lost entirely, but I was out of any patience, faith or gratitude. I spent two days feeling completely helpless, desperately calling the airline until a very patient agent gently told me that it was an “act of God” and that there was nothing that could be done until the storm passed, and the airport could be reopened.
Two days later, they got another flight for a week later. As I write this, I’ve got every limb of mine crossed for luck, rosaries at my desks as well as myriad pictures of various Hindu gods. All faiths have been invoked to pray for their safe arrival, and I can’t wait until I can finally watch them walking toward me in the terminal at Albany International Airport.