“Nothing in this world is impossible to a willing heart.”― Abraham Lincoln
I am a vial of multiple doses of Covishield AstraZeneca, I was created in the Serum Institute of India, in Pune. After great research and initial trial, we were manufactured with the codename AZD1222. Weakened germs and other ingredients were pumped together to change me into a vaccine. I was then bottled in an elegant glass bottle that measured 10 ml in all. Weakened germs and other ingredients were pumped together to change me into a vaccine. I was then bottled in an elegant glass bottle that was 10 ml in all. The world was getting vaccinated but Indians were waiting for their turns. While a few fostered a fear towards the Vaccine, there were many others who were heedless towards the pandemic as they felt they could manage the new mutant of Coronavirus with their newfound immunity. The vials manufactured that January was sent to other countries, I was waiting eagerly to be shipped.
The rise in the CoVID cases in South Africa made them seek vaccines from India who shared one million doses of it. I was shipped along with others to South Africa. Each one of us wanted to begin our duty of saving lives after we were administered in the human body. We were lined in boxes with temperature control and shipped to South Africa. I waited eagerly as the pretty nurse arranged us on the shelves. It was my turn at the end of the day but they had to stop the vaccinations abruptly. I waited patiently for a new dawn. We were stored back into cold storage and the next day a few of us were injected into South African communities. I was sure to get my turn but it was researched and found that we vaccines provided minimal protection against a new variant of the virus that had become rampant in the world. The South African health workers made a proclamation that they had paid 1 million to the serum institute but the efficacy of the vaccine was less. India accepted the consignment back and paid back the money for the vaccines to South Africa. We were repacked and delivered in India. I was later transported to Hyderabad where the health workers distributed the vaccines to different hospitals. I wondered where they were taking me but later I found myself at the Omega hospital in Banjara hills. The hospital was quick with the vaccines. Each day vials were opened and a little bit was injected into people. That afternoon the young nurse Sushi pulled me out and rested me on the desk. She slowly injected 0.5 ml of me into the people as they entered the vaccination area. A bit of me went into a lawyer’s body and the rest was injected into a housewife, a banker, a miser, an entrepreneur, a businessman and his wife. There were three doses left-back. The next in the waiting area were a couple, a psychiatrist and his mellowed wife.
The psychiatrist gave a questioning look at the nurse, she gently looked up and said, “It is ma’am’s turn first and then yours.” The psychiatrist grinned and moved back. His wife was a pleasant lady, she was fair, thin and tall, she moved a little away after her vaccination and waited for her husband’s turn. The nurse injected the vaccine into the body of the psychiatrist. The couple thanked the nurse and moved to the waiting area. The waiting area was bustling with people, hot tea was being served. People refused to drink it due to the fear of the pandemic. The Psychiatrist who was double-masked looked at the maid and said, ‘Is the tea hot?’ She nodded in affirmation. He said enthusiastically, ‘Please pour out a cup of tea for us’ His enthusiasm brought in the disapproval of the other people who were reliving the Covid 19 disease by magnifying their imagination.
The maid happily poured out the tea. The last 0.5 ml of me was still lying in the bottle. All had left and I feared the last dose being thrown away in the bin. It was late and the nurses were packing for the day when they saw a frail old lady walk towards them. The lady was Maniyaramma, she had a short tuft of hair that was curled into a bun at the nape of her neck. A few strands fell on her tired face. The lady was dressed in a sari, her eyes were sunk in sockets and her lips were parched. She walked weirdly with her body moving ahead while her hands moved backwards. The kind nurse held her and made her sit on the bench. The last dose of vaccine in the vial was actually my soul. I had given away my brain to the Psychiatrist’s wife, my heart to the businessman and my spirit to the Psychiatrist but my soul was as bright as the Sun. It was disheartening to be jabbed into Maniyaramma but I had no say in the human world. The nurse picked my soul was gently injected it into Maniyaramma. The moment I entered the body, I began joining the Maniyaramma’s bloodstream. It was a queer feeling and I could feel her heartbeat grow faster than ever. The weak lungs inhaled quick breaths of air. The kind nurse helped Maniyaramma to the waiting area. She waited there calm and collected.
People left for their homes but Maniyaramma seemed to be in quiescence. After an hour she had a cup of tea, and then she gradually trudged towards her home in the MLA colony. Her house was a large one but Maniyaramma lived alone. She had a quiet supper of gruel and vegetables. The warmth of the food brightened me. I quickly explored Maniyaramma’s bloodstream as it kept flowing to every part of her body. Her internal organs were rapidly degenerating and there wasn’t a hope of living long for her yet she seemed unperturbed. Maniyaramma had paracetamol that night and slept peacefully. She had nothing to fear about and her heart kept beating rhythmically.
The next morning, Maniyaramma woke up tired but she walked gradually to the Brahmanada Reddy park as always. She sat on a bench on the northern end where she could witness the hues of the sky change colours. As the sun began rising she prayed the almighty in gratitude. She was thankful to be able to walk despite the difficulties. The flow of blood in her body seemed steady with her calmness. She kept smiling a great deal but she was feverish and felt the chills jolt her. She kept walking back home with her face mask maintaining a safe distance from people. The fever kept her tied at home for the next few days.
On recovering, Maniyaramma practised Yoga and Pranayam. She began with her usual routine of cooking and cleaning. The peacefulness reflected a joyful self internally making me feel blissful and peaceful. She did wobble many times with her hands moving backwards but she was never unhappy. She had lost many dear friends but believed that that life was transitory and they were on the eternal journey.
A few days later the pandemic returned with vivacity as the second wave in India. It was stronger and more infectious. People began dying in large numbers. There was a shortage of vaccine but Maniyaramma had developed sufficient antigens through her robust routine. She kept herself busy making handmade artefacts. The art brought in a new enthusiasm in her. She also volunteered to cook food for the COVID patients. The local volunteers would inform her when the patients were in her area. They also provided disposable containers. She loved cooking hot food, the good food and the goodness made me feel joyful. It touched my soul, I found that it was one’s goodness and mindset that made one immune to the pandemic. I will be leaving the world when Maniyaramma breathes her last but I will always rejoice in the peaceful life that I have had in a beautiful soul.
The truth is that you can do it at any age. Get up and be willing to leave a mark.” Israelmore Ayivor