Home alone: The elderly in the time of lockdown

* Most senior citizens had to rely on nothing but themselves — being atma nirbhar, as the prime minister put it

* Where government agencies or systems collapsed, communities, have stepped in to help those in need or distress

Sowmini T is unsure of her age, though she knows she is in her late 60s. She lives in the Narikkuni village of Chelannur block, in Kerala’s Kozhikode district. Sowmini’s place of work — my mother’s house — is 40 minutes by bus. Sowmini has been with my family for over 45 years. She cooks, acts as an occasional caregiver and general supervisor of all things to do with the house and household.

When the lockdown was imposed on March 25, Sowmini, who has a basic phone and lives in a tiny house, was caught unawares and unprepared, like the rest of the country. Though local groups and community organisations offered cooked food, she did not want it. “I preferred to make kanji (thin rice gruel),” she says.

But slowly, the situation improved. My mother managed to send across Sowmini’s salary by contacting the latter’s more mobile family members who had passes and could travel. Sowmini got vital help from other sources too. “Since I am single and live alone, the panchayat gives me rations. I also received provisions from political parties. And now I get a monthly ‘kit’ from the government,” she says. The ‘kit’ is the Kerala government’s free aid for ration card holders. It contains about 17 items from dals, spices, coffee and tea, sugar, salt, cooking oils to rava , atta and more. Neatly packaged in stout cloth bags, these kits have been a lifesaver for 87 lakh families in Kerala. And people such as Sowmini.

Contrast her experience with that of a senior citizen couple, Sumathi and Ramesh Kiran* in Bengaluru, the Silicon Valley of India. “We are both 62 and used to lead fairly healthy lives, doing housework by ourselves. Our health conditions — hypertension and diabetes — were under control. With the lockdown, we had to find new ways to do equivalent exercise at home [no gym, no walks],” Sumathi says.

A bigger problem was access to groceries, fruits and vegetables. “We no longer have a vehicle as we felt it was easier to use autorickshaws and cab than maintain a car,” explains Sumathi. Without a vehicle, the couple could not do bulk shopping. Online sites, on the other hand, were constantly busy, stocks were often sold out and deliveries kept getting cancelled. “So, we had to carry heavy loads by ourselves or do multiple trips. There were neighbours helping senior citizens in our complex. But there were many seniors in far worse situations than us. We didn’t feel desperate enough to ask for help for non-emergencies,” she says. But every small thing became an effort for them.

The Kirans are not alone in their stressful lockdown experience. There are countless such stories across India. How a country treats its most vulnerable — the poor, the elderly, the destitute — is a good measure of its fundamental strengths and flaws. And the long, hot summer of India’s lockdown has exposed everything tragically wrong and yet also triumphantly right about the country. Where government agencies or systems collapsed, communities, even complete strangers, have stepped in to help those in need or distress.

According to a 2016 Elderly in India report by the ministry for statistics and programme implementation, there are 103.9 million Indians above age 60 — 8.6 per cent of the population. Of these, 73.3 million live in rural areas, like Sowmini. The rest are urban dwellers, like the Kirans.

Talking numbers: There are 103.9 million Indians who are above the age of 60

When the lockdown was announced, the vast majority had to cope on their own — with no access to daily essentials, food, medicines or healthcare. Most had to rely on nothing but themselves — being atma nirbhar, as the prime minister put it — and the kindness of complete strangers. Where states and state agencies failed, citizen-run initiatives, community-run organisations, senior citizen associations and non-governmental, non-profit organisations stepped in. A May 4 report in IndiaSpend, a data-driven journalism non-profit analysing India’s public policies, noted that there was a sharp rise in distress calls on helplines run for the urban elderly by non-profits such as HelpAge India, an organisation which works with the disadvantaged elderly. Many senior citizens were afraid they would die alone, the article noted.

But informal initiatives have made a huge difference, too. An example is the online community Caremongers India. Founder Mahita Nagaraj, who lives in Bengaluru, set up the volunteer-based pan-India group in March. Today, it is 43,953-member strong (and growing). A group administrator, Mageshwaran Saba, says they have broad areas of focus — those most at risk such as senior citizens, those with physical disabilities, pregnant women and those with infants. “But we ensure that no call [to our helpline] or post/message [on the Facebook group] goes unattended,” says Saba, who is a consultant with the International Basketball Federation.

From queries for medicines, oxygen cylinders and even blood to enquiries about tiffin services in the metros, delivery of essentials, e-passes for travel and desperate requests for generators in Kolkata after the devastation wrought by Cyclone Amphan, Caremongers India volunteers help in any way they can. And there have been some heart-warming encounters too. “One caller urged us to help his 85-year-old friend. So, I called the 85-year-old, who promptly informed me that he was, in fact, 87! He said he was “perfectly fine” and that his ‘youngster’ friend was needlessly worrying. Then, I contacted the original caller. Turned out that he himself was 75. He too assured me that he was doing okay,” recalls Saba.

We are in this together

While the resilience of the human spirit shines bright, the lockdown has also brought home the fact that, together, people are stronger. That all seniors need, sometimes, is reassurance, and even social engagement. And that is exactly what Nidhi Chawla and Reshmi Chakraborty are doing through Silver Talkies (ST), their online magazine and social engagement platform for people over 55 years. The Bengaluru-based duo and co-founders say that seniors across India now reach out to them. “The new dynamics of staying at home 24x7 (alone or with family), the burden of work, household chores and the uncertainty of the entire situation are stressing out everyone. In fact, family relationships have deteriorated in some cases,” they say over e-mail.

Sumathi Kiran agrees. “It is impossible to have a normal conversation with anyone without it going down a Covid-19 black hole of fear, anger, frustration and uncertainty. Staying at home all day is one part, not being able to chat with others because this is all anyone talks about is really even more frustrating,” she stresses. Dr Ratnavalli Ellajosyula, a consultant neurologist currently in Mysuru, understands just how Sumathi feels. This constant focus on risk and fear has a negative effect, she points out. “I know of families where seniors are constantly being told they are vulnerable and, therefore, they should not go out or take the lift, so on. This makes matters worse,” she adds.

Lack of social engagement aggravates the situation. So, Chawla and Chakraborty organise Silver Talkies Live events, which range from webinars with experts on mental health awareness, immunity-boosting diets, life after lockdown to dance lessons, theatre workshops, chair yoga, virtual tea-parties and meet-ups for Silver Talkies members. “These help seniors stay positive and happy. Now, many are comfortable using new technology too. Most actively stay connected over video calls and wait for announcements of our weekly events, workshops and interactions,” the duo adds.

Invisible enemy: Lack of social engagement and constant reminders of their vulnerability to the virus have negatively impacted senior citizens

Two months on...

Today, the Kirans are in a better place as far as online delivery for groceries and essentials is concerned. But they need to get their monthly blood tests done. “We are still hesitating about that. And, later, we may have to look at telemedicine reviews,” says Sumathi.

In Sowmini’s case, since public transport is available, she wants to get back to work. But being asthmatic, she is susceptible to respiratory infections. Hence, my 77-year-old mother has suggested that she drop in twice a week. “I know I have to be careful and I wear my mask. Wherever I go, they give me sanitiser. It burns my skin,” she adds wryly.

(*Names have been changed on request)

Divya Sreedharan is a Bengaluru-based journalist

COMMENT NOW