It was a regular morning in late April.
I had just gotten off a work call, ticking through my long to-do list, when I received a WhatsApp text from my younger brother, who lives with my parents in New Delhi.
It was the time when India's devastating COVID-19 wave with the Delta variant had hit its peak.
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The country was going through its worst phase, with social platforms screaming about oxygen cylinders and blood plasma.
I'd felt blessed every morning not waking up to some emergency text or call from home, except that day I did.
When my brother texted around 9am asking me to call him as soon as I got his message, I knew something was not right. I immediately called him to hear what I feared - dad had contracted the virus.
My mum and dad had gotten their first jab and were waiting for the second dose when the uncontrollable second wave emerged in India.
Dad had started to show the early symptoms of a rough cough and fever - symptoms of the same monster that had been killing people close to me.
So many people I knew are now no more - five in our own circle. There was no chance we were going to take this lightly. My dad has Type-1 Diabetes and has been a heart patient as well, so you can imagine my horror when you attach these two conditions to the deadly virus.
The odds were pretty much unimaginable. Without wasting time waiting for his Covid test results, my dad was immediately asked to self-isolate.
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