Tagged With: coronavirus
The city of Siddhivinayak, the land of Mumbra Devi, our beloved mothership, your keepers should have kept you better, for you cannot get by on faith alone. That beautiful vinyl that has been used to hide all your ugliness behind it has but come apart. And what lies beneath is the debris of fear and hopelessness.
In your slums, where life thrived against all odds, there is nothing but heartbreak today. COVID-19 may be contained in your various zones, but neglect and disparity that have grown in your womb since the day you were born, who can contain that?
We, who have looked away from those blue plastic thatched roofs of your slums every time our planes have touched down, we are scared for our lives today because we had forgotten that the lives of those dwelling inside those shanties inevitably bleed into ours. We had overlooked the fact that when those who live on the margins die, we die as well.
While good dystopian fiction reflects some truth about our world, the reason we find it engaging is that we know that there is only a slim chance of it ever becoming a reality. Since the past few weeks, however, all of it seems like a cautionary tale that we should have paid heed to.
As early as 1826, Mary Shelly wrote about a global pandemic in her novel The Last Man. The plague that devours nearly all of the human population in her book is assisted by human nature and the politics of the British aristocracy in its spread. Continue reading