A virus more dangerous than coronavirus...

Virus of Racism

   

I sit at the corner of my bed, hunched down over the mess of t-shirts, jeans, dresses, socks lying on the floor beside my trunk.

I sigh - and I can confidently say that this must be the tenth time I do. My shabby, long hair sticks out from all directions. I smell of coffee and closed room because I've been drinking coffee the whole day and haven't have had the sunlight even once. I feel frail.

Should I call mom? I ask myself once again. No. I know she'll be worried to death. Maybe Aparna...? She'll definitely help me, but I don't want to trouble her, especially right now, when she's already depressed over things.

Another sigh. 

I get up from the bed and walk towards the wooden chair that always creaks when I sit on it. I play with my hair, my head in my hands, a single tear rolls down my cheek. And I don't notice when it becomes a waterfall, forming a pool below. My breath quickens and I swallow constantly.

I try to think, but I can't focus. So I close my eyes.

"Go Corona! Corona go!" a boy yells at me.

"Chinese..." sneers a girl, menacingly.

A short, plump man spits-SPLAT-on my t-shirt. "Go away from here, virus."

I've been studying here in Dehli since two years and I must say, they're more stressful years than any year in my life. Bullied by everyone. Facing their blatant racism. And what not. It was such a serious issue, that last year I'd thought of committing suicide too. But I could never bring myself to doing it. Thinking about my parents, my friends and all the dreams I have yet to fulfill--makes me live.

But life is hysterical now. After the coronavirus.

Earlier they used to call me, "Nepali" or "Chinki" or "Chinese".

But as coronavirus comes to the scene, they've started calling me things like corona. Walking down the street to buy essential items, people act like crazy around me.

But this isn't it.

I am confined to the four walls of my room ever since the last incident in which I had gone to the shop and people started chasing me. I haven't smelled fresh air ever since. 

And what happened yesterday has devastated me. 

My landlady warned me to empty my flat within seven days. 

I mean, SEVEN days! Come on! One can't even think of a place to go to in seven days.

I knew already why she did this to me. 

Because I'm from North East India. And because she is a racist as all the others in the building who filled her ears about me and encouraged her to do this.

Even in the 21st century, I live a life in hell. There is no limit to their racism. And this is insane.

Can't they see beyond my facial features? Can't they treat me as they treat anyone else? The war against coronavirus will end-- later, but surely. But, what about this war? The war I, and so many more people all around the world is fighting against! The war against racism!  There'll be a vaccine to fight coronavirus any time now, but what about racism? No vaccine for it. Ever. 

I open my eyes and come to the reality once again. Clothes lying on the floor, an open trunk with all my belongings, an open wardrobe with half of its usual content.

I'm going. I don't know where.

An article on racism in times of Covid19, from the perspective of a North-East Indian student studying in Dehli.

Written by: Chand Shaikh.

Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.