Family abandons the body of a 70-year-old man fearing Corona infection. A 65-year-old woman waits for over 8 hours to get help for taking her husband’s body to the crematorium… these are a few of the heart wrenching scenes I’ve witnessed in Belgaum over the past few months. The narratives might change but the stories remain the same.
Once we got a call in the evening from a 65-year old lady whose husband had died at 12 noon. We reached around 8.30 pm. It was raining and his house had slush all around. There was a big crowd but no one was willing to bring out the body. Finally, my female colleague Madhuri and I went in, got out the body, placed him in the ambulance, and by the time we cremated him, it was late at night. But the most gutwrenching narrative was that of a hospital leaving the Covid positive dead body unattended on the bed and claiming that they were not equipped with the PPE Kits… it was only when we reached the next morning at 10am that we packed the body and took it for the final rites. This pandemic has shown me how people change their equation with their loved ones in times of a crisis. They sometimes disowned their kin fearing the virus. Or at times, they were too poor to purchase the PPE kit or buy wood for the pyre. Belgaum’s electric and diesel crematoriums are, unfortunately, not functional.
This is where my NGO, Help for Needy, stepped in – we either gave them a decent burial or purchased wood and PPE kits for the relatives. Also, with the number of Covid cases rising, the need for ambulances also rose, and so did their ferrying charges. When a family couldn’t afford basic food and essentials, how would they shell out so much money for an ambulance?
We immediately pressed our ambulance into a 24×7 free service to help out the needy patients. I myself started driving it as regular drivers acted both pricey and sometimes reluctant, given the Covid scare. We have also been distributing food and blankets to the homeless. As for me, I’ve lost out on the goodwill of my neighbours, relatives and friends because of the work I do. When I visit a neighbourhood eatery, people get up and sit some distance away. But I bear no grudge – I tell myself that they’re practising social distancing. My family was initially very scared but now they understand and appreciate my work.
Over the last few months, we have helped with the final rites of over 85 dead bodies, transported nearly 400 patients to the hospital and I personally have conducted the final rites for over 16 bodies. Death is an inevitable part of life but even death requires a basic dignity, isn’t it?
Surendra Shivajirao Angolkar
