Rekindling of hope
The day, 26th November, passed away just like a regular day. I guessed the pain subsided with each passing day. 26th November, thus, came and went without making much fuss. Life continued at its own pace, but with occasional interruptions. I was desperately trying to make peace with the situation around me.
Three days later, on the 29th morning, I received a call from Feng Xiao, my supervisor’s wife.
“How soon can you buy a ticket?”
“I can book it today,” I said, feeling the rush of adrenaline inside me.
“Fine, grab a ticket now. Looks like we can arrange the exit pass for you, and we need a departure ticket for that,” she said.
It had been a week since administrative offices were set up in each block of the Haizhu district. Those who needed to leave the district had to apply to this office with a proper reason. If the administration found the exit reason suitable, they would provide an ‘exit pass’. The pass must be shown to the armed guard stationed under the bridge over the river, and you would be free to leave the district.
We had been trying to get this pass for some time now. In the 3rd week of November, I arranged a medical certificate from my doctor friend in Kolkata, stating that I had a liver condition that had to be treated immediately, and that treatment was only possible in India. But the administration found the disease not serious, for which they allowed me to go to India.
Another chance, and I got my Thai Airways ticket for 3rd December, another Saturday. Thai operated one plane a week from Guangzhou to Bangkok on every Saturday. I had to spend 4558 RMB, or approximately 45000 INR – not much of a sum to buy your freedom, as I thought.
“It’s a ticket for 3rd December,” her call came soon after.
“Yes, that’s the only route I am aware of. I took it last time, too.” I told.
“But if we get the Exit Pass today, it will be valid only till 8 pm, and you have to leave the district by then. When I asked you to grab a ticket, I meant to buy one ticket for today.”
I realised the perilous trick language played. I tried to remain calm, “I can leave today from the district and stay at a hotel near the airport for the next 3 days. I will then catch a flight on the 3rd.”
“There is a problem in that,” she said, “The hotels near the airport are not allowing accommodation to people going from the Haizhu district. Besides, you are a foreigner. Not all hotels here accommodate foreigners.”
Before I comprehend the severity of the situation completely, she asked, “Can you please check if you can get a ticket for today? If the pass is available, it will be valid only for today. I don’t know if we will get another pass…”
“But”, I had to stop her midway as I remembered something, “I have to submit a negative Covid-19 report of 48 and 24 hours to enter India.” At that time, passengers coming to India had to upload negative Covid-19 reports on a Delhi airport portal, along with the information on the airline’s number, origin, and destination of the passenger.
“Understood. Okay, I’ll see what the office says. You pack your bags.” She said. I already started feeling that I would have to cancel the tickets again.
And it happened, but this time, it turned out to be good.
Exit, but with a condition
I still remember the minutes of those days. So much so, I could tell you that our conversation ended at 10 am, and it was 4 pm when a casual check of the Delhi airport’s latest guidelines revealed that no documentation was required before entering India. They would only test 2% of people, randomly chosen, for COVID-19 upon entering. Suddenly, I would no longer need to get tested here.
I immediately started checking if any plane tickets were available for tomorrow. I knew Thai Airways was not possible. But I was desperate to find anything else. Any route would do; I just needed to leave the country. I found one route:
- 30th November: Cathay Pacific, Guangzhou (11 AM) to Hong Kong (12 PM)
- 30th November: Cathay Pacific, Hong Kong (4:05 PM) to Bangkok (6:15 PM)
- 1st December: Indigo, Bangkok (3:45 AM) to Kolkata (4:50 AM)
Not a perfect one, as I had to stay awake for two nights – 29th at the Guangzhou airport and 30th at the Bangkok airport. The fare was 3850 RMB, or about 40000 INR. I bought the tickets.
But I did not cancel the previous Thai Airways ticket- if anything happened between my departure from my apartment and taking off the plane, I could not rule out any possibility. From then on, everything was more uncertain than before, except my urge to return home at any cost.
The next thing I did was call Madam.
“I will come right away. I will also print your ticket from my home. Take your passport and come downstairs. We will go to the office together”, she said.
Within two minutes, I was downstairs. I never thought the office would be so close to my apartment. They gave us a form, everything was in Chinese. Madam filled up the form, and I just signed. Within 10 minutes, the exit pass was in my hand. I still remember the time – 5:30 in the afternoon. I had two and a half hours to get out of the Haizhu district.
Madam asked, “How far is your packing?”
“Done. Nothing much to take.” I just packed my cameras and laptop. And that was enough.
“Okay, I’m going home now. I’ll be here at 7. I have talked to a taxi person. He will pick you up from the other side of the quarantine barrier and take you straight to the airport. But, there’s only one thing left to think about.”
“What?”
“When you go out of the Haizhu district, your QR code will turn yellow. At least that’s what I’ve learnt from others. It’s because the district you’re leaving has a bad COVID-19 situation. So the yellow code means you have to get tested, and when the results come back negative, your QR code will turn green again. But the problem is, you will not be allowed to enter the airport with the yellow code.”
“So what should I do?” I asked.
“I don’t know for sure. It’s a risk. But if that’s the case, you’ll need to get tested somewhere near the airport. Wait until your code turns green, then enter the airport.”
She observed me closely for a few seconds and then assured me, “Nothing may happen. You travel with a green code, and enter the airport with that. But yellow code is a possibility.” She chose her next words very carefully, “But whatever happens from now on, you have to handle that alone. Can you do that?”
As I was trying to hold myself together, I could manage to answer in one of the smallest words in the English language, “OK.”
I called Chi before leaving for the airport. I asked her not to tell anything at home yet. We would wait till I boarded the plane for Kolkata.
Adios, Haizhu district
Madam came exactly at 7 pm. My supervisor accompanied her. They checked whether I had switched off all the electrical appliances. I did a lot of grocery shopping a few days ago and stored the items in the fridge. I could not plug out the refrigerator in that condition. They agreed.
And on the other end of my tiny apartment, my supervisor was busy checking the dustbins. The dustbins were full, as I was supposed to clean them the next morning. He collected the bin bags in one place, wrapped them, and disposed of them as we three were leaving the apartment. It was 7:30 pm. He bade me goodbye at the apartment gate. I handed over the keys to my apartment and promised him that I would come back soon.
We had to travel to the river bridge, and there was no transport. So, we took my electric bicycle. Madam took charge of driving it. The suitcase was placed between her knees and the front handle. I managed myself in the back seat. The clock was slowly moving to 8, and we were moving fast to the bridge. The road was empty and dark, except for the sudden flashes of the police vans and ambulances.
I never thought I would see Guangzhou like this. The city I knew came to life at night, when the lights along the Pearl River made the dark water golden, the lights in the skyscrapers formed stories, and on top of everything, the Canton Tower welcomed the visitors with its slender seductiveness. On that winter evening, the city was reeling under fear, without knowing when and how it would come back to its vibrant original self once again.
The bridge stood dark at a distance, yet welcoming to give a passage to freedom. We parked the e-bike where the shadow of the bridge met the road. Madam called the taxi driver. He had already arrived and been waiting for me on the opposite side of the quarantine cordon. We approached the guarded checkpoint and showed the exit pass and my passport to the officer on duty. He checked the documents and then asked me to remove my mask to match my face with the passport. Two more officers joined him. A few minutes passed. They asked to see my QR code, which I did. It was still green. Satisfied, they ordered to open the gate. Madam was not ready to see me off. She requested the officers if she could go outside the quarantine boundary to drop me off in a taxi. They agreed. It was exactly 8 o’clock when I crossed the quarantine barrier.
The whole process took less than 2 minutes, but I could tell you exactly how I felt for those 120 seconds. Standing in front of an armed cavalry in a pitch-dark winter night under a gigantic bridge and anticipating the worst that could happen at any moment, I could never forget that evening, even if I wanted to.
Before getting into the taxi, we shook hands. And her parting words: “Be careful. Please take care of yourself. Don’t get infected there, and come back soon. We will wait for you.” I could be wrong, as we were standing in a dark alley with yellow street lights peeping in very faintly, but I probably saw her eyes glistening – perhaps a brief moment of weakness or the revelation of her true self.
The moment stayed with me as the taxi rushed off to the airport. It took a little less than 40 minutes to reach Terminal 2 of Baiyun International Airport. I did not check the QR code the whole way. In fact, I did not refresh the app, hoping it would remain green. Two guards stood in front of the gate 5A, monitoring the incoming crowd. They did not ask me anything, no code-showing, no temperature check – I entered the airport, just like I had done many times before.
Flight CX983 of Cathay Pacific was right on time – tomorrow at 11 am. The clock showed 9 pm; I had nothing to do but wait for the next 12 hours. I chose a chair farther away from the gate to spend the night. Then I tested my luck – refreshed the health app, checked the QR code, and it was still green. I looked around to find some food, but was surprised to see the conditions of one of the busiest airports in the world. The food court was closed; no food stalls were open. I had no other option but to starve that night.
