<p>The “guest is god”, it is famously said. Except when there’s a coronavirus pandemic and niceties go out the window. If you don’t look “Indian”, you’re likely to be viewed with suspicion as a conduit of contamination. Myself included. The escalating horrors of the world seemed far off when I boarded a domestic flight from Mumbai to Gujarat for a work trip in early March. There weren’t any reported cases of coronavirus infection in Mumbai. Regional Gujarat felt even further removed from the advancement of it. Such calm contrasted sharply with the surreal scenes of savagery taking place in Australian supermarkets, where people fought each other for toilet paper to hoard.</p>.<p>It took less than a week for the situation to about-face, though. Indians began to die from the virus and many states started reporting infections. The government responded swiftly and proactively, by suspending the visas of travellers coming to India. Negativity towards outsiders grew. It hit me all at once when I arrived at a hotel in Gujarat, only to discover that the hotel had been officially instructed not to accommodate foreigners. The police and local health officials turned up to examine me. One of the health officials, surprisingly, disregarded protocol and attempted to shake my hand (to which I duly responded with a namaste). I answered questions about my health and had my blood pressure taken. I also explained that I live in Mumbai and had not been out of the country recently.</p>.<p>Nevertheless, despite being deemed fit, the “foreigner” had to go. The hotel owner was helpless. The authorities pestered him until I finally vacated the premises the next day. As it turned out, my experience wasn’t unique. Foreigners were facing hostility across India and were being evicted from hotels even if they had health certificates. Many ended up with nowhere to stay and no food. The guest had, apparently, transformed from “god” into the devil. </p>.<p>Evidently, lack of logic spreads faster than the coronavirus. Fear is known to bring out the worst in people, but so much so that even government authorities can’t act rationally? What’s the sense in forcing tourists to roam around looking for accommodations, thereby causing them to potentially be exposed to the virus or infect others in the process? Isn’t it more practical to contain them where they are? Meanwhile, on the flight back to Mumbai, it was business as usual as passengers forewent social distancing and leaped into the aisle as soon as the flight landed.</p>.<p>Safely at home in “Maximum City” during ‘janata curfew’, I found the prevailing unity reassuring. Everyone was indoors separately, yet together. Could some good possibly come from this virus? Within days, it appeared unlikely, as the lockdown was enforced, and political and communal tensions rebounded. States grappled with the provision of essential services, the police delivered beatings in the streets, masses of migrant workers tried to return to their villages, religious gatherings violated lockdown regulations, and people chased away medical professionals.</p>.<p>As I pass the time ensconced in my comfortable flat, in a city where locals are least bothered by my presence and I have plenty to eat, I’m uncomfortably conscious of how well-off I really am. It’s not the virus I find confronting, it’s the hardships being faced and the disturbing incidents that are unfolding in the world. Yes, compassionate people are acting with greater compassion. However, fools are also acting more foolishly. The divisions in society are more obvious than ever and have the potential to widen even further. It’s troubling because a pandemic can’t be conquered alone. Isolation isn’t difficult for me. Being an introvert, I excel at it. Staying at home in Mumbai, where I feel secure, actually keeps me sane because I really don’t want to be a part of what’s going on outside right now. </p>
<p>The “guest is god”, it is famously said. Except when there’s a coronavirus pandemic and niceties go out the window. If you don’t look “Indian”, you’re likely to be viewed with suspicion as a conduit of contamination. Myself included. The escalating horrors of the world seemed far off when I boarded a domestic flight from Mumbai to Gujarat for a work trip in early March. There weren’t any reported cases of coronavirus infection in Mumbai. Regional Gujarat felt even further removed from the advancement of it. Such calm contrasted sharply with the surreal scenes of savagery taking place in Australian supermarkets, where people fought each other for toilet paper to hoard.</p>.<p>It took less than a week for the situation to about-face, though. Indians began to die from the virus and many states started reporting infections. The government responded swiftly and proactively, by suspending the visas of travellers coming to India. Negativity towards outsiders grew. It hit me all at once when I arrived at a hotel in Gujarat, only to discover that the hotel had been officially instructed not to accommodate foreigners. The police and local health officials turned up to examine me. One of the health officials, surprisingly, disregarded protocol and attempted to shake my hand (to which I duly responded with a namaste). I answered questions about my health and had my blood pressure taken. I also explained that I live in Mumbai and had not been out of the country recently.</p>.<p>Nevertheless, despite being deemed fit, the “foreigner” had to go. The hotel owner was helpless. The authorities pestered him until I finally vacated the premises the next day. As it turned out, my experience wasn’t unique. Foreigners were facing hostility across India and were being evicted from hotels even if they had health certificates. Many ended up with nowhere to stay and no food. The guest had, apparently, transformed from “god” into the devil. </p>.<p>Evidently, lack of logic spreads faster than the coronavirus. Fear is known to bring out the worst in people, but so much so that even government authorities can’t act rationally? What’s the sense in forcing tourists to roam around looking for accommodations, thereby causing them to potentially be exposed to the virus or infect others in the process? Isn’t it more practical to contain them where they are? Meanwhile, on the flight back to Mumbai, it was business as usual as passengers forewent social distancing and leaped into the aisle as soon as the flight landed.</p>.<p>Safely at home in “Maximum City” during ‘janata curfew’, I found the prevailing unity reassuring. Everyone was indoors separately, yet together. Could some good possibly come from this virus? Within days, it appeared unlikely, as the lockdown was enforced, and political and communal tensions rebounded. States grappled with the provision of essential services, the police delivered beatings in the streets, masses of migrant workers tried to return to their villages, religious gatherings violated lockdown regulations, and people chased away medical professionals.</p>.<p>As I pass the time ensconced in my comfortable flat, in a city where locals are least bothered by my presence and I have plenty to eat, I’m uncomfortably conscious of how well-off I really am. It’s not the virus I find confronting, it’s the hardships being faced and the disturbing incidents that are unfolding in the world. Yes, compassionate people are acting with greater compassion. However, fools are also acting more foolishly. The divisions in society are more obvious than ever and have the potential to widen even further. It’s troubling because a pandemic can’t be conquered alone. Isolation isn’t difficult for me. Being an introvert, I excel at it. Staying at home in Mumbai, where I feel secure, actually keeps me sane because I really don’t want to be a part of what’s going on outside right now. </p>