The street peddler watched the prime minister’s speech on a battered TV with her family of five crowded around her, in a one-room house with no toilet and no running water. It’s squeezed in a shanty town controlled by an obscure Mumbai organized crime family.
Mina Jakhawadiya knew that somewhere in India, the coronavirus had arrived, wending its way through this sprawling nation of 1.3 billion people. But the danger seemed far away.
Then it wasn’t.
“Every state, every district, every lane, every village will be under lockdown” for three weeks, Prime Minister Narendra Modi told the nation on March 24, giving India four hours’ notice to prepare.
As governments around the world try to slow the spread of the coronavirus, India has launched one of the most draconian social experiments in history, locking down its entire population — including an estimated 176 million people. Modi’s order allows Indians out of their homes only to buy food, medicine or other essentials. No going to work. No school.
India’s handling of the lockdown and the ever-spreading virus is a test for the developing world, offering clues to how countries from Bangladesh to Nigeria can fight COVID-19 without forcing their poorest citizens into even worse hunger and destitution.
While India’s economy has boomed over the past two decades, inequality has also grown. Those near the top can hunker down in gated apartment complexes, watching movies on Netflix.
But not Jakhawadiya, who makes a living selling cheap plastic buckets and baskets with her husband on the streets of Mumbai. For her, the order means 21 days in a 6-by-9-foot room with five people, no work, a couple days of food and the equivalent of about $13 in cash.
While India had 469 coronavirus cases and 10 deaths when Modi gave his speech, it’s also one of the most crowded places on Earth, a nation where the coronavirus’ exponential growth means it could hopscotch from the Himalayas to South India, ravaging cities and villages.
Then there’s India’s medical system. Except for private health care for those who can afford it, the medical system barely functions across wide swathes of the country. Public hospitals often have limited supplies, questionable cleanliness and third-rate doctors.
Few people have been tested, so the true scale of the outbreak is unknown. If India’s hospital system was overrun by COVID-19 cases it could collapse in days, leaving untold numbers to die.
As a result, many experts say Modi had to act as he did to buy time to prepare.
The lockdown means India has “probably pushed out the epidemic peak by three to eight weeks,” said Ramanan Laxminarayan, an epidemiologist and economist who directs the Center for Disease Dynamics, Economics and Policy in Washington, D.C.
But that logic means little for the Indians at the bottom of the economic ladder. For these people, three weeks can be an eternity.
“I know we are facing bad days ahead,” said Jakhawadiya, a fierce-eyed 47-year-old woman who, like many in India’s vast slums, is a force of will. But she’s never faced anything like this.
On April 14, the family again gathered around the battered TV to watch the prime minister again.
Three weeks had passed since the lockdown began, and the virus had spread exponentially, from 469 cases to 10,363. Deaths jumped from 10 to 339. Both numbers were continuing to climb.
“You have endured immense suffering to save your country,” Modi told the nation.
Then he announced the lockdown would continue for two more weeks, though some areas could be reopened next Monday.
Mina and her family were stunned. That day, the rent collector had shouted at her and demanded payment. They still had received no government food handouts.
“We will die if people stop giving us food,” she said.
For the poor, hunger had become a worse enemy than COVID-19. People feared the virus — but the larger fear was about simply surviving the next two weeks.
