The Nizamuddin Markaz gathering in Delhi, which attracted thousands of devotees some of whom were carriers of COVID-19, has become an excuse for several sections of India to paint Indian Muslims as bioterrorists. The hashtag #CoronaJihad is evidence.

Rules and Indian citizens don’t exactly go hand in hand, so it will be interesting to see how a nation of over a billion lock themselves in. Everyone keeps saying that we are in this together, but we are also in this as single, solitary individuals who need to channel all our will power and practice self-discipline like never before.

In UP’s Bareilly, authorities were asked to sanitise buses. Instead they used the disinfectant on migrant workers returning home.

If locals in Goa are to be believed, the lockdown has cut off the supply of essentials to the state. They have no access to groceries and those stepping out to head to the market are being punished mercilessly by the police and CRPF.

Yes, coronavirus makes you sick with flu-like symptoms but it also sucks out all the decency out of you. A pandemic that threatens your life as much as it threatens that of others is all it takes for the facade of humanity to slip.

Images from across the country show thousands of labourers attempting to get back home on foot over large distances. The crisis was the worst at Anand Vihar bus station.

With the British Prime Minister, Health Minister, the Queen, and the Prince of Wales all in isolation, two key decision-making ministers in the cabinet right now are Chancellor of the Exchequer Rishi Sunak, and Home Minister Priti Patel. Social media had a field day with the fact that two Indian-origin ministers are now in charge of Britain.

Not all cops are as heavy-handed as the ones currently gaining infamy on social media. While the dominant narrative has portrayed a brutal police cracking down harshly on civilians, there are many who are feeding homeless people and taking care of stray animals.

While Roger Federer and Hollywood stars like Ryan Reynolds and Rihanna have donated toward coronavirus efforts, Indian stars seem notably absent. Barring Sachin Tendulkar and a few other celebrities, most of Bollywood is unusually quiet.

Over 300 migrant workers were found crammed inside two container trucks by the Maharashtra Police. The crisis among jobless migrant workers is getting severe by the day. But Maharashtra CM Uddhav Thackeray has assured that those stranded in the state will be looked after.

The WhatsApp mob is especially active now that we are in the grip of Covid-19. Neighbours are turning against each other. People living in the same area as a 22-year-old Ahmedabad patient, ravaged her social media profiles and circulated her photos. A Chinese man in Greater Noida feared being lynched.

The 21-day lockdown is a difficult time for India. But beating up citizens is not the way to fight this pandemic. Our policemen need to be sensitised now more than ever.

The 21-day lockdown has left lakhs of daily wage workers and migrant labourers stranded across cities. With no trains or buses to board, some have to walk for two days to get back to their villages, carrying children on their shoulders, others are cycling home.

The paranoia of the 21-day lockdown has led to incidents of violence against delivery executives of e-commerce companies and essential service workers. For some of these men and women on the frontlines of the fight against the coronavirus, there are risks beyond the disease.

The coronavirus outbreak will have unpredictable social outcomes, but the strain this epidemic will put on couples is all too real. Already, the divorce rate in China has spiked. Irrespective of what we learn about this novel virus, we’ll learn a whole lot about the people we live with. And not all of it will be good.

Yet another airline crew member was harassed by her neighbours who accused her of spreading coronavirus. Even as pilots and flight attendants face discrimation they continue serving the country, bringing home stranded Indians from across the world

On Sunday, India went from janata curfew to janata street party in no time. Women broke into a garba, men into a bhangra, forgetting all about social-distancing.

In Delhi’s Vijay Nagar last night, a man spat at a Manipuri woman and called her “corona”. As information around Covid-19 swells in India, it has led to an increase in xenophobic behaviour – particularly toward those from North-East India.

When the story of the coronavirus is written, a large chapter will be devoted to how well (or otherwise) we treated those less fortunate than ourselves. For once – and it’s amazing how nature works – how well we do, will depend on how well we treat them. Give your househelp paid leave, offer hand sanitiser to delivery men.

While some choose to sing from their balconies during “Janta Curfew”, others indulge in group workouts in public spaces. India is reacting to the coronavirus in absurd ways. And yes, cow urine is also involved.

Social distancing and self-isolation are buzzwords for urban Indians, possibly the only way to save ourselves and countless others from the coronavirus pandemic. But a large part of our population simply can’t afford to distance themselves from their daily lives. We still expect milk to be delivered and our houses to be swabbed.

From debates over the presence of protesters at Shaheen Bagh, to plans to hold a massive Ram Navami Mela in Ayodhya, the Covid-19 coronavirus outbreak has not created India’s religious and political divides, only highlighted them.

It has taken an imperceptible virus to remind us that the differences we have spent years identifying in each other are, essentially, irrelevant. Unlike humans, Covid-19 does not discriminate or heed privilege and will therefore, inevitably become a humbling equaliser in an unequal world.

Hanging rapists is not a cure-all for India’s rape problem – at this juncture, prevention is ever more important. That will only be achieved by confronting India’s ingrained misogyny, and by creating the social and legal framework where victims can be assured of justice.

No Muslim families lived around my house in Kolkata in the ’90s. My closest reference was the neighbourhood of Rajabazar. A place — it was impressed upon my young mind, was full of delinquents to be viewed with suspicion. A place to be seen from the windows of a bus, not one to be gotten off at. The distinction between “them” and “us” started early.

If there’s one thing the internet is truly designed for, it’s to create an explosion of misinformation when the world least needs it. So you can be sure, as reports poured in of Coronavirus cases being reported in Delhi and Telangana, “miracle cures” started appearing in none other than the home of WhatsApp uncles.

I fell in love with a Dalit woman and wanted to marry her. That’s when my privileged, savarna family came into the picture. Though less educated and less progressive than my wife’s family, my parents considered themselves superior only because they were born in a Brahmin household.

The picture of a boy mourning the death of his uncle, who was killed during the Delhi violence will – and should – haunt us. Hopefully, it will remain one of the starkest reminders that whatever our political opinions are, there’s just no justifying the suffering of children.

When mob violence takes over the streets, like it did in northeast Delhi, the consequences can be completely unpredictable. And the victims are often only guilty of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There are heroes to be found in Delhi, even as parts of the capital burn. Holy texts were set on fire in Ashok Nagar, where Hindus and Muslims gathered and picked up the scorched pieces. Gurduwaras opened their doors to those fleeing from the violence.