Sometimes it comes in a barrage of WhatsApp messages first thing in the morning, and sometimes it lands in the middle of the night, as it did for Mohini Gadre's father. A 3 a.m. call at his San Francisco Bay Area home let him know that his octogenarian mother - who had tested positive in Mumbai - was too weak to say her morning prayers, setting off a mad scramble to find her the hospital bed where she remained for days.
The more than 4.2 million people like Gadre who make up the Indian diaspora in the U.S., according to census estimates, have watched in horror as the latest coronavirus surge burns through India, killing thousands of people a day and catapulting the death toll to more than 200,000 - the fourth-highest in the world.
In the U.K. - home to about 1.4 million Indians - the government has added India to its “red list” of countries, banning arrivals for anyone from India except for U.K. citizens and residents. That adds to a sense of isolation and helplessness for many who feel cut off from loved ones. The problem is twofold and cultural: A certain generational hierarchy means elders are not inclined to heed the advice of their children, grandchildren or outsiders. And misinformation spreads widely through the same social channels that are vital to co-ordinating help and bridging the gap across oceans.
“My cousin was like, `You Americans are so arrogant and look at your own country and you have over 500,000 people who have died.' And she actually told me - she's like, `Indians have herd immunity. We are born with herd immunity,”' Nath recounted.Vijaya Subrahmanyam, 58, typically travels to India every six months to see her family, including her older sister and 91-year-old mother in Hyderabad, in the southern state of Telangana.
In Seattle, Sanjay Jejurikar, 58, is leveraging his connections and using his familiarity with India to connect people to assistance, everyone from a 75-year-old mentor to young employees of his India-based education technology startup.