Sick in Delhi - Feverish in bed but fully taken care of

Why being sick in New Delhi is actually more pleasant than in Germany – and what your phone has to do with it.

I still shudder when I think back to what it was like being knocked out by a virus in Germany. Lying in bed, sick as a dog, didn’t mean the world stopped turning. The kids still had to be taken care of, and chauffeured to school. Which meant that, feverish and shivering, I had to drag myself out of the house. As if that weren’t bad enough, if I wanted that restorative chicken soup, I had to hobble into the kitchen, chop vegetables, and cook it myself. And heaven forbid I didn’t have all the ingredients – then there simply was no soup.

Thankfully, my husband would step in and take care of the kids and me. Absolute meltdown mode kicked in if he got sick too. Then I just had to pray that my mother would feel sorry for us and make the trip to help out.

But here in Delhi? Everything is different.

In the morning, my husband helps get our little one ready for school, then we hand him over to the driver. He makes sure he gets to school and back home safely and soundly.

Our maid arrives, tidies up, cleans, and the only effort I have to make is occasionally brewing myself a cup of tea. Since I’m luckily not too sick, I toy with the idea of doing a bit of work. But typing in bed with a laptop is just not cozy. So, I order an adjustable bed table on Blinkit. Delivery: 15 minutes. Cost: around €15. Comfort level: instantly upgraded.

My new workplace.

By lunchtime, hunger strikes. I open Zomato and pick a soup – chicken, vegetable, or Thukpa, a Tibetan variety that seems to make you feel better with every spoonful. The hot meal is delivered straight to my door within 20–30 minutes, and I’m beyond grateful I didn’t have to set foot in the kitchen to make it myself. And because the kids are hungry too, we order for everyone – whatever they’re craving. With Zomato’s overwhelming selection, no one’s left wanting.

Later in the afternoon, I realize I’m out of Tulsi tea. Tulsi, or Indian basil, is a magical herbal cure-all and pretty much the health tea over here. No worries. Thanks to Blinkit, a fresh pack arrives in 8 minutes.

And once again, I ask myself – how is this even possible? If I had gone to get it myself, it would have taken twice as long, not to mention the effort. It’s one of Delhi’s many paradoxes: loud, chaotic, dirty – but the logistics? Absolutely dreamy.

So, thanks to these wonderfully convenient services, I can stay in bed, rest, and recover without my husband being overworked. There's just one thing that must never happen: my phone must not die. Because without it? No soup. No tea. No bed table.

In Delhi, the smartphone doesn’t just replace a trip to the store – it’s practically a nurse or my mother in digital form. Instead, I FaceTime my real mother and get her warm wishes for a speedy recovery – sent from 6000 km away.

Because that, not even Delhi’s magical service culture can replace.