“Faith and Fury – Covid Dispatched from India’s Hinterlands”, a book by Jyoti Yadav, as the title suggests captures the on-ground realities during the first and the second wave of Covid. I vividly remember being in my hometown when, around 5:00 p.m. on 22 March, I heard the loud clanging of thalis and bursts of applause. My mother even called me to the terrace to clap in support of frontline workers combating the coronavirus, as appealed by our Prime Minister, Mr. Modi, while announcing the Janata Curfew. What followed soon after was the abrupt nationwide lockdown—and with it, images that are now etched in our collective memory: lakhs of migrant workers walking back to their homes on foot.

We have all witnessed the havoc Covid wreaked on countless lives, particularly those of the poor and the marginalised. So, when this book appeared, offering ground reports from villages and small towns of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, I was compelled to read it. Although the epidemic affected everyone, it was—as always—the poor and the marginalised who suffered the most. I wanted to understand how people, who had neither the privilege of working from home nor the safety net of secure housing—have endured and lost in the pandemic.

The author takes readers into villages across northern India, speaking directly with people on the ground—doctors, government officials, and politicians—to document how the epidemic was handled. What emerges is a picture of confusion and chaos: daily announcements, constantly changing guidelines, and an abrupt lockdown that was poorly thought through. In a country where a majority of the workforce is informal and dependent on daily wages, the lockdown proved devastating.

The stories of migrant workers walking thousands of kilometres back to their villages in Uttar Pradesh and Bihar are heartbreaking. As if the journey itself was not cruel enough, many were beaten or chased away by the police for violating curfew. Only after widespread media coverage—much of it international—did the government announce Shramik trains for migrant labourers, promising to bear most of the cost. In reality, that promise largely remained unfulfilled.

As one reads through the book, the stark disconnect between how the pandemic was handled in cities and how it unfolded in villages becomes evident. With very few reporters on the ground in rural areas, most Covid coverage came from metro cities, effectively cutting off villages and tier-3 and tier-4 towns from the national narrative. Their experiences remained largely unseen, unheard, and undocumented – and this is one of the reasons everyone should read this book.

As the book unfolds, it becomes evident that despite the enormity of the epidemic and the constant stream of government guidelines, the focus often remained on public relations and image management rather than effective implementation. There was a glaring gap between announcements and action. A telling example was the government’s own disregard for Covid protocols—large gatherings continued unabated. During the second wave, the Kumbh Mela was organised, drawing lakhs of people and turning it into a super-spreader event. At the same time, the Prime Minister addressed multiple election rallies, reducing Covid guidelines to little more than empty rhetoric.

The book brings together the stories of countless Indians—the hardships they endured, the loved ones they lost, and the indifference they encountered not only from the state but sometimes even from their own families and communities. Reading these accounts leaves you unsettled and reflective, forcing you to confront the human cost of apathy, mismanagement, and silence.

The book acts as a portal into the villages of Uttar Pradesh and Bihar, revealing how ordinary people—the poor and the marginalised—struggled to survive the pandemic. Each individual story stands as a stark indictment of systemic failure, not only because of mismanagement, lack of facilities, or the sheer scale of Covid, but because the system ultimately stripped citizens of their dignity by failing even to acknowledge their deaths. The author connects with ordinary people on an emotional level and presents their stories with empathy and humanity.

The book is written in simple, accessible language, though it is not always an easy read, often stirring deep emotion. We, and perhaps our present generation in particular—have a short memory when it comes to collective suffering, which is precisely why this book becomes such an important read. It serves as a reminder of what was endured, what was lost, and what must not be forgotten.