Price they pay to keep the virus away: Shutting out family, moving to outhouse
Over 250 km away, Raigad SP Santosh Singh remains alone in the front room while at home. The toughest part, says the 37-year-old police officer, is when his infant son crawls towards him, and he has to shut the door on his face.
IAS officer Niharika Barik has been living in the outhouse to minimise contact with her aged parents and teen daughter.
CHHATTISGARH HEALTH Secretary Niharika Barik says she hasn’t entered her house in nearly a month. The 49-year-old IAS officer has been living in the outhouse to minimise contact with her aged parents and teenaged daughter. Every day, she steps out into the garden to interact with her daughter, who stands on the terrace.
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Over 250 km away, Raigad SP Santosh Singh remains alone in the front room while at home. The toughest part, says the 37-year-old police officer, is when his infant son crawls towards him, and he has to shut the door on his face.
Chhattisgarh, which went into lockdown on March 22 two days before the national move, has reported nine cases so far. And, Barik and Singh are at the forefront of the state’s battle to contain the coronavirus. But like thousands of others like them across the country, from government officials to medical professionals, they are struggling to come to terms with the personal cost.
“The Health Minister and our team had started preparing to tackle the outbreak in January-end. I decided to move out of my home in the second week of March, before the lockdown was announced. I can’t quarantine myself. I meet several people, including doctors, and I can’t minimise those interactions. But since other members of my family are in age groups that are more at risk, I took this decision,” she says.
The 1997-batch officer, who took charge as the state’s top health official in 2018, spends most of her day in the “war room” created by the Health Department, where she carries her own meals. “I have sent my entire staff at home on leave, and there’s just one help who lives with my family. She manages the household since I can’t enter,” says Barik.
“I don’t let anyone else wash or clean for me. I leave my utensils near the door, where I’ve kept a small table. The help leaves food and water there, which I carry with me to the workplace or to my room,” she says.
“The hardest part is not being able to interact with my daughter. She might feel troubled, too, knowing that her mother is not accessible physically. This is a difficult decision, it takes a lot of resolve. But unlike many others, I have the privilege of isolating myself at home,” she says.
In Raigad, SP Singh says he has been following similar norms to protect his wife, two children, and aged in-laws who have moved in to tide over the lockdown. “I have two young children, and the youngest is barely a year old. I have to go out on the streets, meet people, and might also have to go near those possibly infected, due to the nature of my job. So, I have isolated myself and don’t interact with my family, unless it is from a distance,” he says.
The 2011-batch IPS officer says his children don’t understand why their father won’t play with them, and often cry. “My youngest wants to come to me and sometimes crawls towards me. But I keep my door closed,” he says.
Singh says he’s at work for more than 12 hours every day. “My cook leaves the food outside the door…I wash my utensils myself. The only time I see my children is while leaving for work, when they stand near the door. I hope that when they grow up, they will remember that I did this because I was a responsible father,” he says.
“Now, other officers have similarly isolated themselves. It is difficult, as everyone wants to be able to relax with their families after work. But this is our way to ensure that the disease doesn’t come home with us,” says Singh.