THE SYMPTOMS are a peculiar mix. They include sluggishness, general malaise, depression, and an inability to focus or to work. It is sort of like long covid. Except that the victim of this particular form of delayed recovery from the virus is not a person. It is India’s economy.
With at least 2m dead from covid-19, according to The Economist’s estimate of the real toll from the virus, many of them as a result of the fierce second pandemic wave that only waned last month, it may seem no surprise that India is struggling to get back on track. Yet in proportion to its 1. 4bn people, that frightening number does not make the country an outlier: its mortality rate is probably similar to those of America or Britain. Where India does stand out among large economies is in how hard its economy has been hammered. As richer countries begin to bounce back, it finds itself stuck with persistent unemployment and inflation, limp demand and falling savings and investment. Many of those troubles were pre-existing conditions—call them comorbidities—made worse by covid. But with India’s vaccination campaign progressing like an ambulance in Mumbai traffic, its path to better health will be longer and more painful than for many others.
Consider the undramatic story of Neeraj Vora, an appliance salesman in Mumbai, India’s financial capital. In the midst of last year’s nation-wide lockdown his salary was cut from 26, 000 rupees ($348) a month to 14, 000 rupees. This spring his father fell ill with covid. As the cost of treatment mounted, both Mr Vora and a sister broke into their fixed-deposit savings. That proved too little, so he turned to clients whose trust he had earned over the years by going the extra mile, for instance by taking care that a fridge he sold was delivered to a top-floor flat scratch-free. Their goodwill helped him cover the 280, 000-rupee medical bill.
Mr Vora’s family is now fine. But his father’s medication still eats 3, 000-4, 000 rupees a month, which comes on top of the 5, 000 rupees he pays in rent and the debts he now owes. “I don’t even understand when the money gets credited and when it disappears, ” says Mr Vora, who now never leaves home without mask, gloves and sanitiser. “My family can’t afford for this ever to happen again. ”
THE SYMPTOMS are a peculiar mix. They include sluggishness, general malaise, depression, and an inability to focus or to work. It is sort of like long
covid
. Except that the victim of this particular form of delayed recovery from the virus is not a person. It is India’s economy.
With at least
2m
dead from
covid-19
, according to The Economist’s estimate of the real toll from the virus,
many
of them
as a result
of the fierce second pandemic wave that
only
waned last month, it may seem no surprise that India is struggling to
get
back on
track
.
Yet
in proportion to its 1. 4bn
people
, that frightening number does not
make
the country an outlier: its mortality rate is
probably
similar to those of America or Britain.
Where
India does stand out among large economies is in how
hard
its economy has
been hammered
. As richer countries
begin
to bounce back, it finds itself stuck with persistent unemployment and inflation, limp demand and falling savings and investment.
Many
of those troubles were pre-existing conditions—call them
comorbidities
—made worse by
covid
.
But
with India’s vaccination campaign progressing like an ambulance in Mumbai traffic, its path to better health will be longer and more painful than for
many
others.
Consider the undramatic story of
Neeraj
Vora
, an appliance salesman in Mumbai, India’s financial capital. In the midst of last year’s nation-wide lockdown his salary was
cut
from 26, 000 rupees ($348) a month to 14, 000 rupees. This spring his father fell ill with
covid
. As the cost of treatment mounted, both Mr
Vora
and a sister broke into their
fixed
-deposit savings. That proved too
little
,
so
he turned to clients whose trust he had earned over the years by going the extra mile,
for instance
by taking care that a fridge he sold
was delivered
to a top-floor flat scratch-free. Their goodwill
helped
him cover the 280, 000-rupee medical bill.
Mr
Vora
’s family is
now
fine.
But
his father’s medication
still
eats 3, 000-4, 000 rupees a month, which
comes
on top of the 5, 000 rupees he pays in rent and the debts he
now
owes. “I don’t even understand when the money
gets
credited and when it disappears,
”
says Mr
Vora
, who
now
never
leaves
home without mask, gloves and
sanitiser
. “My family can’t afford for this ever to happen again. ”