COVID, Dengue, and a Mother's Battle: A Personal Story of Survival and Loss (June 14 Reflection)

a hospital corridor, a mother’s hand being held, or a symbolic image of hope and struggle

Four years ago, on this very day.
This day, and the 27 - 28 days leading up to it, are impossible for me to forget.
One afternoon, my sister came back from a school meeting and started feeling feverish.
Along with the fever came coughing and body aches.
It was during the most terrifying phase of the coronavirus pandemic.
And these symptoms were clearly those of COVID!
What a crisis!

Even after 3 - 4 days, the condition didn’t improve, so she was brought to our house.
Two more days passed, still no improvement.
There was no way to take her to a hospital or consult a doctor.
And with such symptoms, even if we tried, no one would agree to see her.
We returned home, overwhelmed with a strange helplessness.
Naturally, her condition started deteriorating.
Meanwhile, she also developed severe shortness of breath.
There was no longer any doubt that it was COVID.



As expected, people stopped coming to our house and forbade us from visiting theirs.
Their area now felt like the India border guarded like the BSF.
To top it off, some people began criticizing her as if falling sick was a serious crime she had committed.
In short, we were stuck in an unbearable situation.
In the middle of this chaos, my friend Sohag, defying all barriers and fears of those around him, stepped up.
With his limited medical knowledge, he brought medicines, saline, and took on her care.
Our heads bowed in deep gratitude to this boy.
A few days later, my sister began to recover.
Just as we were beginning to feel relieved, my father and I were the next to fall.
But our symptoms were mild.

After about a week, just as we were starting to get better, a message came from Dhaka, my nephew had contracted dengue.
He had gone into shock.
His platelet count had dropped below ten thousand. At any moment, it could lead to coma and then death.
What a disastrous state of affairs!
Dragging my own weakened body, and with my friend Rayhan by my side, I rushed to the hospital.

There, we saw the boy’s condition was indeed critical.
By the time blood was brought from Quantum in Malibagh/Shantinagar, his face had already turned pale.
It was clear the final moments were near.
The blood transfusion was done quickly.
After evening, he began to feel a bit better.
Two days later, he was out of danger.
I began my journey home again.

And on the way, I got the news: after all this physical toll, personal ailments, and COVID exposure, my mother had fallen seriously ill.
Despite the terrifying signs of COVID, we had shown her to a GP doctor many times, kept her in a local rural hospital.
She was given various injections.
But nothing worked. Things were only getting worse.
Her vitality was fading fast.
It was truly a life - and - death struggle.

After suffering so long and being without proper food for 14 days, she had reached the brink.
And one night, I saw her leave the house without telling anyone, and soon she collapsed outside unconscious or perhaps looking like a corpse.
I will never forget that sight!
My mind almost collapsed at that point.
How does one deal with so many disasters at once!
What kind of fiery trial is this!
We decided she had to be taken to the city hospital.
An ambulance was called.

She’s not someone to be shaken by illness.
But for the first time in her life, she had to get into an ambulance on a stormy, rainy day and she believed she wouldn’t return.
In a faint voice, she said goodbye to everyone.
Perhaps she silently conveyed something to my father.
By then, the poor man had lost all his mental composure.
The ambulance departed, and we (along with our cousin Masud) left home with the shadow of the angel of death silently following us.

Even when the ambulance reached the hospital, no one wanted to come near the patient.
Because it was during the most dangerous phase of the pandemic.
From noon till evening, my mother lay on a trolley.
No movement. No response when we called.
Even when we called for doctors or nurses, no one came.
Only the invisible angel of death stood quietly at the door, within some unknown wavelength.
By that point, I had become like stone from everything I’d been through.
Time was passing like a dream, like a trance.

In the evening, despite all the fatigue of work and pandemic travel restrictions, my elder brother joined us all the way from Sylhet.
And soon after, the doctor finally came.
Maybe that’s when the angel of death turned away.
The doctor ordered tests, admitted her, prescribed medicines.
After some treatment and care, my mother opened her misty eyes.
And burst into tears.

Why had we brought her back!
Wouldn’t it have been better if she had died?
What was left for her in this world except pain and suffering?
Still, with her return, everyone was in tears of joy!
And just then, news came that Sushant Singh Rajput had ended his life by suicide.
I thought of the tale of Babur and Humayun.
How Babur supposedly sacrificed his life to cure Humayun of his fatal illness just like that, my mother came back, and Sushant took her place in the journey to the unknown.
Life is so strange!

Sushant a young, vibrant soul.
Yet how tired and disillusioned he was with life.
He completely devalued it.
While so many people desperately want to live, even through immense suffering.
In Jibanananda’s words:
"Still the owl keeps watch;
The rotting frog begs for two more moments.
At the hint of another morning with a warmth guessed, not known..."
"Beside him lay his bride - his child too;
There was love, there was hope, there was moonlight – still, what ghost did he see?
Why did his sleep break?

Or maybe he hadn’t slept for years - now he sleeps in the morgue,
Never to wake again."
And as soon as she returned, she scolded me again.
I’ve never found such joy in being scolded as I did that day.
Today is June 14.
I’m going home.

To put it simply - I’m about to get another chance to join my mother in the fourth year of her bonus life.
Or maybe, to be scolded again.
These days, not being scolded makes my body restless.
My heart aches in an odd way.
So, it’s time now - off I go…
But Sushant was like that man:
Sushant left. My mother returned.