The Chinese virus or the Indian strain, Shetty or Sharma, Amar, Akbar or Anthony- Would we be able to use this pandemic to rise above nomenclature and labels and move onto the universal religion of humanity and kindness?
By Nazarul Islam
Nothing means anything in life…but the proper names. We learn this to be true, at least once in our lives.
It was just another day….but, not another day in paradise. A sneeze, a sliver of doubt – Could this be that dreaded disease? Well, let’s not take chances. My son wasted no time digging out his action plan, from his cell phone, saved for emergencies. Isolation, Neem tree leaves, Steaming, Oxygen concentrator and Contact numbers.
He had felt a headache coming on and retired to his room, wondering if this was an early symptom. But this is not another story about how we survived or succumbed to the virus. The disease I encountered that day was far more devastating and far-reaching.
We managed to get a number for home sample collection. With two doctors at home who have been dealing with patients and possibly infected friends and family members, it made sense to get tested through the entire pandemic. A few hours after calling and booking a test, we heard the front doorbell ring.
The lab technician was equipped with his little kit and ready to put on his PPE and get started. One by one, he took down details and efficiently swabbed both nose and throat. As I got up to leave, I turned and asked through the double mask,” What’s your name?”
Silence – Then, “@&£%#“, he mumbled.
“What’s your name?” I asked again. This time a bit louder, in a more strident voice so that I could be heard through the mask.
As I observed him, I saw hesitation and a hint of real worry for the first time in his face. “Ismail, sir,” he said more clearly, but still sounding diffident and nervous.
In that moment, I realized what it must feel like to be marginalized or discriminated against in any society, in any part of the world. Whether, as a woman in a patriarchal world, a Dalit, a sexual minority or just an outspoken person in a society that does not tolerate reason. Ismail was worried whether his name or identity would have unpleasant repercussions.
“Thank you, Ismail,” I said.
“Isn’t it time for you to break your fast? Do you want water or fruits?” Ismail told me that he wanted to be back home for the last prayer and Iftaar meal with his family. He accepted the bananas I offered and ensured me that the reports would reach in 24 hours.
The Chinese virus or the Indian strain, Shetty or Sharma, Amar, Akbar or Anthony- Would we be able to use this pandemic to rise above nomenclature and labels and move onto the universal religion of humanity and kindness? Only time will tell whether the Bard had a point when he asked us, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet.”
Our names and your photos give us a unique identity. Make and maintain a good name in the hearts of people. Let’s Paint good photos in their minds….
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About the Author
The Bengal-born writer Nazarul Islam is a senior educationist based in USA. He writes for Sindh Courier and the newspapers of Bangladesh, India and America. He is author of a recently published book ‘Chasing Hope’ – a compilation of his 119 articles.
