Irfan’s* voice crackles through the weak landline phone call from Srinagar, as he talks about life in the conflict-torn Kashmir valley, which was beleaguered with the coronavirus-induced lockdown, just as it was limping back to life from the lockdown it was plunged into in August. As a senior doctor tackling the novel coronavirus pandemic in the valley, the limited access to the internet there poses many challenges. “Kashmir is used to lockdowns. I don’t think it would have that much of an impact here, compared to other parts of the world,” he says matter-of-factly. “It often happens here,” he adds. “We are used to this limited internet situation. It’s difficult, but it’s possible to cope,” he says stoically.

He was speaking at a time when even this paltry internet access - except postpaid Bharat Sanchar Nigam Limited (BSNL) services - as well as mobile services, were shut for a few days post the killing of a militant on May 6.

However, his voice betrays the first hints of despair when he says, “But, at least the phone calls should be restored immediately.” His wish did come true. Soon after he spoke to BusinessLine, the mobile network - not internet still - was restored in most parts of Kashmir.

The entire Kashmir valley and three districts of the Jammu region have been declared a "red zone" area, the most critical zone in terms of the severity of the coronavirus pandemic, by the Jammu and Kashmir administration.

“To cut off people’s Internet, mobile services, during a lethal virus outbreak is nothing but criminal,” tweeted Mirza Waheed, a Kashmiri novelist and journalist based in London, on May 9.

The importance of proper internet access in the midst of a global pandemic is pivotal, especially as information about the virus is subject to constant changes and updates, say all the doctors BusinessLine spoke to.

Mobile and internet is also the only way to connect with friends and family when social distancing and self-isolation have become the norm to curb the insidious spread of the coronavirus. Despite the availability of full-fledged internet and mobile services, the internet is abuzz with literature on how difficult it is to cope with the ravages of social distancing.

At a time like this, Irfan, a doctor treating coronavirus patients yearns for at least the bare minimum access to make calls, despite the many impediments he faces due to the lack of proper internet. Maybe because Kashmir is no stranger to lockdowns and communication blockades, as they are inured to this, especially post the abrogation of Article 370. This stripped Kashmir of its long-held constitutional autonomy, imposing direct rule from the central government of India.

The denial of proper internet access has other ramifications, beyond those associated with the global pandemic. The internet provides access to banking and financial services, educational resources, information on government directives and tele-medicine services, apart from also enabling one to order food, groceries and medicines.

The latest clampdown on mobile and internet services in Kashmir happened on May 6, post the killing of Riyaz Ahmad Naikoo, a senior leader in Hizbul Mujahideen, a banned militant group.

When this happened, 25-year-old Malik Aabid, a Kashmiri student residing in Delhi, feared Kashmir was teetering on the brink of yet another endless abyss of communication blockade. He found himself inundated with a disconcerting feeling of deja vu, as memories of the communication blockade from August 2019 came flooding back.

“Back when we faced a communication blockade post the abrogation of Article 370, we were told it would last for only a short while. But, I couldn’t speak to my family in Kashmir for 45 days! Every time I think about it, it sends shivers down my spine… So, it’s hard to even be hopeful,” he had said. “At least calling services should be restored - we are in the midst of a global health emergency, for crying out sake!” he added, exasperated.

Luckily, just half an hour after he spoke to BusinessLine, the mobile network was restored in Srinagar, his hometown, leaving him feeling happy.

Aabid can now resume his daily evening phone calls with his parents to make sure they stay abreast with the latest guidelines and precautionary tips from the World Health Organisation and other portals, as the meagre 2G and broadband services in Kashmir thwarts his parents from doing it themselves. “With 2G, it takes a couple of minutes to even load a page. And information is so important at a time like this,” he explains.

Currently, even 2G and broadband services, except post-paid BSNL, stand banned in Kashmir. It remains to be seen if this would be restored in Kashmir, as assured.

In a tweet on May 10, Faysal says, “I call my family in Kashmir. My father asks if I have heard any news if the Indian state will restore the 2G internet. I tell him that there's no word, a continent away.”

As Irfan notes, “It was a double blow, with one lockdown after the other.” For Kashmir, it is a lockdown within a lockdown, which is further fraught with a lockdown on communication.

Aabid says with a sigh, “My family tells me: You are a Kashmiri, you have two identities, and that makes you more vulnerable. They often tell us this, which is very sad.”

Fawad*, a 27-year-old resident doctor attending to coronavirus patients at a hospital in Srinagar, points out that with no internet available, contact tracing, an essential tool to curb the spread of the virus, faces added hurdles. Those few days with a complete clampdown on mobile services was a nightmare, he recalls. There was no way of contacting the seniors in the hospitals for any guidance whatsoever, he says.

“This is a virus that has rattled countries like the US and Italy. And here we are, being denied proper internet access to know about it,” he fumes.

Contact tracing is riddled with difficulties due to the lack of proper internet, affirms Mariam*, a 29-year-old resident doctor treating coronavirus patients in another hospital. In addition to all the tasks they are faced with, they have to write down the details of the whereabouts provided by the patient and then convey it over telephone to their seniors, instead of sending it quickly over mail or so, she says ruefully.

The administrative job is another ordeal, she says. “Every positive case is to be notified. Every detail about their contacts or residence etc has to be shared for effective contact tracing. This all is really difficult without a good data connection.”

Mariam also recalls how a patient had found out he had tested positive for coronavirus at a time when there was a clampdown on phone calls too. “He was so desperate and helpless that he could not inform his family that he was admitted to the hospital. He just wanted to contact them somehow so that they would just know that he is fine. Is this not cruel?” she probs.

“As a doctor, having a 2G network or no data network are actually both the same. I feel that somehow we are slightly behind the rest of the world in terms of the knowledge of recent advances taking place. Medical science is such a challenging science - that on a day, you would be in favour of a theory, and the next day, you will have a scientific criticism to it. So, do you expect that we would be having access to such advances? No. Except for some texting, nothing else works on a 2G network,” says Mariam.

Hassan*, a senior psychiatrist at a mental health institute in Kashmir, says that very few people in the valley have access to BSNL and broadband connections. “I am one of those privileged ones now with access to at least minimal internet services,” he quips wryly.

He draws attention towards the ‘Save Heart Initiative’, a WhatsApp group which emerged as a saviour for heart patients in Jammu and Kashmir. It was started by a group of three cardiologists in 2016, with three more doctors joining in 2017. He recalls an instance where a plea for assistance in the middle of the night helped save a patient’s life, as a doctor on the group immediately provided help via a video call. Such groups also can’t function properly now, he points out.

Azza*, 36-year-old surgeon working at a hospital in Srinagar, says that though she doesn’t treat coronavirus patients, the lack of proper internet means being denied access to webinars that are important for doctors. “As healthcare professionals, we constantly need to learn and evolve, and that has also been crippled,” she says.

In an affidavit dated April 14, 2020 filed by Revati Laul of the Foundation for Media Professional in the Supreme Court seeking restoration of 4G internet in Jammu Kashmir - of which BusinessLine has seen a copy - she has detailed the struggles faced by doctors there because of the lack of proper internet.

“There are conferences all over the world in which we would like to take part in, but we don’t have 4G. We need 4G because of the COVID emergency...doctors always need to be updated,” a doctor is quoted saying in it.

Disseminating safety precautions to people, especially those living in far-flung areas and who do not read or write, has become very difficult with the mobile speed restrictions, another doctor is quoted saying in the affidavit. “Video is the easiest and most crucial ally in fighting a pandemic. How do we ensure that the knowledge that we have (on the basics on the virus) is disseminated to the common people?”

An eye surgeon also shares in the affidavit the impediments he faces. “I am an ophthalmologist and we have to see patients very far away. With video conferencing it makes it much easier to tackle issues of the eyes. It gives us 90 per cent of the diagnosis. In this scenario we are suffering a lot.”

The mental health implications of limited internet access are also dire, says Hassan, the psychiatrist mentioned earlier in the story. The crude irony is not lost on him, when he talks about the advisories meted out by his institute, detailing how to cope with social distancing amid the pandemic - to keep in touch with people through digital and virtual mediums so that emotional distancing also doesn’t happen. “It’s unfortunate that this right has also been snatched from us,” he laments.

“This is said to be the worst crisis that mankind is going through, and when the right to internet access is taken away at a time like, how will people remain sane?” he asks.

Fawad has encountered coronavirus patients breaking down, utterly helpless, as they are confined to hospital beds, with limited communication. This means no seamless video calls with their family and any other form of reprieve online, like for patients elsewhere.

In an article in the medical journal The Lancet, dated March 14, 2020, on the psychological impact of quarantine and how to reduce it, it says, “... providing those quarantined with mobile phones, cords and outlets for charging devices, and robust WiFi networks with internet access to allow them to communicate directly with loved ones could reduce feelings of isolation, stress, and panic (that quarantine brings about). The ability to communicate with one's family and friends is also essential, it added.

Sana*, a clinical psychologist, at a mental health institute in Srinagar, says that mental health practitioners like her have been witnessing a spike in people seeking help in recent times in Kashmir, though no hard data on the same is available. In a 2015 survey of 5600 households conducted by Doctors Without Borders, it estimated that nearly 1.8 million Kashmiris - or nearly half of all adults - have some form of mental disorder.

Survivors are spending more time in closer proximity to their abusers, people contemplating suicide are at higher risk of attempting and completing suicides, relationships are witnessing virus-enforced domesticity or distance, and people with pre-existing mental health conditions are relapsing, says Sana. “These are some of the problems which will only worsen with the communication gag since the services have come to a halt... Also, dissemination of information has been hindered, which is leading to unnecessary speculations, adding to the uncertainty and anxieties.”

Even though video conferencing would have been more effective in attending to patients, mental health practitioners could not put that into practice with the restricted internet speed to just 2G, adds Sana.

Apart from its importance at a time of a global pandemic, the internet is a source of solace too, Azza points out. “We also need something to engage with ...A lot of people who were working actively have now been confined to their homes. If you give them at least the basic internet, they will keep themselves busy and mentally, it would be healthier for them.”

“Imagine - when you are allowed no communication with the rest of the world, while being asked to lock yourselves up at home. Can you imagine the sense of fear and the sense of insecurity that a common Kashmiri, a common human being, will be facing in such a situation?”says Azza, her voice quivering with emotion.

Another worry she is facing is because of her kids’ access to online classes getting hampered. Though she describes the Zoom classes that had replaced school for them as a nightmare, now even that has fizzled to a stop post the latest clampdown on the internet. “Our kids also deserve education, they also deserve to learn,” Azza avers.

Meanwhile, the harrowing implications of limited internet access do not escape Kashmiris living elsewhere too. “In Kashmir, a lot of people have moved out. At least 2-3 people in every family are living elsewhere and they are left unawares about what is happening in Kashmir during times like this,” says Sana.

Aabid couldn’t go back home before the lockdown, like other students did, because he wouldn’t have been able to do his assignments and meet his academic obligations properly with the kind of internet access there. He couldn’t take a risk too as it’s his last semester of college, he explains.

Sameer Rashid Bhat, a 23-year-old postgraduate student from Kashmir studying in London, was in a state of panic for those few days last week when there was a complete communication blockade in Kashmir. He recounts how he could talk to his father in Srinagar all the way from London (owing to his BSNL connection), but his father was unable to know the fate of Bhat’s uncle, a coronavirus patient on a ventilator, who was merely a few kilometers away. He is also old, with several comorbid conditions, making matters more worrisome, he points out. His own children in the valley were unable to contact him.

“These are the sort of things that get difficult, especially when there is a public health crisis going on,” he says.

Bhat says that when his family is scattered across different parts of the valley - some in hospitals and some quarantined at home - it’s very distressing to not be there for each other, even if it means virtually. “And that too...because of a policy of the state, which is, fundamentally, in my opinion, anti-people,” he says grimly.

Restoring the calling services offered some respite, but even if they do restore the internet facilities, it will just be 2G, which is as good as nothing, Bhat says wryly. “The fact that an entire population has to survive on 2G is problematic. The right to access the internet is not a lot to ask for, in the times we live in."

Fawad still harbours hope. “We are living on hope, continuously waiting, when we don’t have anyone thrusting their opinions on us… where we get to decide whether we want to use the internet or not, or make a phone call to our families or not. Nobody has the right to deny me the right to call my parents - how can anybody actually do that?”

His question remains hanging in the air.

Note : Names with a * next to it have been changed to protect their identities.

 

comment COMMENT NOW