“Bhai tested positive,” my brother said one recent morning. Immediately, fear gripped my body.

Bhai, a relative, had visited us on Father’s Day—a day before the prohibitory orders were placed in Kathmandu Valley. Instantly, the happy memories of the celebration were now clouded by fears of Covid-19. The first thing that popped in my mind was: “What if we have it too?”

Despite being slightly rattled, we contacted the concerned authorities and sent Bhai to the TU Ayurvedic Research Center isolation centre. As he left for isolation, with a bag of essentials, other questions struck our minds: “Will he be OK? Will we be OK?”

As soon as he left, we sanitised the whole house. We wished we had known about Bhai’s test—if only he had been a bit cautious, but then again, he had no reason to be. He was asymptomatic and young. I began thinking: “Would I have stayed in isolation if I had been tested positive?” My head was a storm of emotions and thoughts. The stress made me numb.

You always feel you are never going to be affected by Covid until someone close to you gets it.

A day passed, then another. Finally, five days later, as part of contact tracing, we got a call from the municipality that we needed to do a swab test. The days until we got the results were marked with uncertainty. A random cough would make us doubt ourselves. Three days after we got the tests done, we got a flurry of text messages notifying that six individuals (from the 11 family members who took the test) tested negative. We could only guess why the rest were delayed.

Then came the dreaded telephone call. I was in the middle of working. Everyone else was napping—no one had slept well for the past few days. I heard a female voice tell me that the five of us had tested positive. Cold with fear, I stepped into my brother’s room and announced the results. I saw tears in my mom and sister’s eyes. My sister-in-law was also weeping with fear.

Sahas, my nephew who was just 2.5 years old, also tested positive. My first thought was: “Is Sahas in pain? How will he tell us if he is?”

Our family decided to remain in home isolation. And the hardest part of it was we had to separate a mother (my sister-in-law), who had not tested positive, from her baby (Sahas). The first day was the most difficult and emotional for my family—our hearts were heavy with fear and confusion. My brother, sister and I had no symptoms other than loss of smell and taste. Thankfully, my mother had no significant symptoms. But what worried us most was Sahas—would his little body fight be able to fight the virus?

For the next two weeks, we had nothing on our minds other than taking care of each other’s health. Despite being deeply scared and worried, we put on a brave face, pretending to remain strong while becoming each others’ support system. A small cough would put everyone in a panic. I was afraid—not for myself, but for my family. It is strange: in the face of danger, I learnt that we think about our loved ones more than ourselves.

While self-isolating, the virus also made me more aware of the people outside of my isolated walls. I felt like announcing that I have Covid to the world would only invite social stigma. I was afraid. I became doubtful about the relationships I had fostered: would I be ostracised for testing positive for Covid? Thus, I decided to share this news only with my close circle, whom I could completely trust.

But we had to inform everyone in our locality about our medical condition. We were sceptical of how the news would be taken. What followed was surprising. Most of my neighbours did not alienate us and instead showed us support. Their gesture truly kept us stronger.

Having said that, however, there were a few incidents that reminded me that not all are welcoming. There was one neighbour who used to run inside whenever they saw us on the balcony. A neighbourhood shop owner was telling anyone who would listen that “corona could spread through walls” and urged people to avoid our home. These instances did little to harm us mentally, but it did make me wonder how deeply rooted fear and misinformation is in people.

Rather than stay idle and ponder over negative emotions, we opted to keep active and busy. We exercised, we talked, we made plans. I even made my family shoot my videos for a Nepalbhasa tutorial series I was involved in making. Looking at those videos, you could never tell if I was infected with Covid. I wanted to counter the fear people had by being active and productive.

However, I would be lying if I say these moments somehow made the experience better. It eased the anxiety, yes, and there was little physical discomfort and pain but the mental struggle was something beyond explanation—particularly the right days of waiting when we didn’t know if we were still Covid-19 positive or not. Not knowing it somehow was harder for me than knowing it.

Another constant fear was medical expense. Seeing how extravagantly hospitals were charging Covid patients, we had to be prepared financially too—in case anyone needed to be admitted to the hospital.

At times, when I felt my weakest, my friends truly came through. I did not have to ask them for help. A senior coworker left us kitchen supplies right after she learned I had Covid. Dais and Didis called to ask if I needed anything, even offering vehicle support despite the danger of infection. Close friends called me even just to ask how I was—small gestures such as these truly helped build emotional strength. Even neighbourhood shopkeepers who came to our door with the necessary groceries and medicines, they showed incredible humanity and their smiles, free of fear, gave us mental strength.

After nearly a month or so of our diagnosis, my family is now Covid free. But we were the lucky ones. We did not have any symptoms and we were diagnosed early; many others have not been this fortunate.

And looking back at the days of self-isolation, the only thing I remember helping us through was our belief in each other and the positivity of the people I reached out to. Yes, the situation can get dire but we must all ensure that the social links we have are empowering and help us fight the virus, not be scared of it or be ostracised because of it. The need of the hour is being smart, safe and considerate. There are millions of ways one might get infected but if you and those around you practice safety and are positive to those who have gotten Covid-19, you are creating a multiplying effect against Covid-19 infection.

There is no cure to Covid-19 so far. The only thing that can help us fight it is preparation, collective strength and positivity, just like my mother says: “We can’t live in fear. As long as you are not infected, stay cautious. But if you do catch Covid, stay fearless.”

Dangol is a communications professional and a Ranjan lipi advocate currently affiliated with Callijatra, a volunteer-led cultural script promotion initiative.