The last time Rithaika Sri Omtri spoke to her mother, she complained of a headache. It had started a few days earlier. Persistent, unusual and easy to dismiss. Then came the tingling in her fingers. Soon, she was in a coma.
“Her head was constantly hurting,” Omtri’s mother, Rachana Gangu, recalls in an interview with The Independent. “She was throwing up, it wouldn’t stop.”
By the time doctors at a hospital in the southern Indian city of Hyderabad performed an MRI, it was too late.
“She had a massive brain haemorrhage. The stroke was so intense that within hours she was slipping away,” Gangu says. “The doctors couldn’t do anything.”
Omtri fell ill at the start of June 2021, as India rolled out its first vaccine against Covid-19. Her symptoms began a couple of days after she received the jab developed by Oxford University and AstraZeneca, marketed in India as Covishield. A few weeks later, on 20 June 2021, Omtri was gone.
Severe adverse events like Omtri’s were incredibly rare across India’s gargantuan Covid vaccination drive. Of the 2.2 billion doses administered in the country, there were only 2,782 reported cases of side effects that developed into severe illness – the equivalent of roughly one in 800,000. The number in which a person died following immunisation was even smaller – just 1,171 cases.
But those figures are no consolation for the families like Omtri’s consumed not only by grief, but also a years-long struggle for recognition, answers and accountability – one that finally culminated this month in a landmark order by India’s Supreme Court.
The court has directed the Indian government to create a system for patients or their families to receive compensation for serious adverse events following Covid vaccinations. The “no-fault” framework would not require families to prove negligence, or for the state or healthcare providers to admit wrongdoing.
“India does not appear to have any uniform or structured policy mechanism to provide redress to individuals who suffer adverse effects following vaccination,” Justices Vikram Nath and Sandeep Mehta observed in their ruling.
“This gap cannot be lightly overlooked, particularly when vaccination programmes are undertaken as public health measures under the aegis and authority of the state itself. The concern becomes all the more pressing in the context of the Covid pandemic, when immunisation was carried out on an unprecedented scale as a collective societal necessity.”
For families like Gangu’s, however, the key question remains unresolved: even if compensation is eventually paid, can it be enough?
In early 2021, as India emerged from the first wave of the pandemic, vaccination was presented as the main path back to normalcy, away from lockdowns, loss and uncertainty.
Gangu’s daughter had just turned 18 at the time. She had finished school and was deciding between studying architecture in India or in the US. “She got into Georgia Tech,” Gangu says, referring to an American university. “She wanted to become a big architect. Just a normal girl with big dreams.”
Vaccination was technically optional, but in practice it would be necessary for Omtri to pursue her education. Colleges required it. Travelling abroad depended on it.
“At least three physicians told us the vaccine was completely safe, that there would be absolutely no problem,” Gangu says. “Being a healthy child, we never even had a minor thought that there could be any side effects.”
Gangu says Omtri received her first dose of Covishield on 29 May 2021. When she felt unwell a few days later, Gangu says, even doctors were unaware that what she was experiencing could be linked to the vaccine.
“At first they said it was not vaccine-related,” Gangu recalls. “None of them even knew it could be vaccine-related.”
As Omtri’s symptoms worsened, a blood test showed that her platelet count had dropped sharply, far below normal levels. The doctors suspected dengue but her condition continued to deteriorate rapidly. Then came the stroke that would eventually kill her.
It was only later that studies emerged to put cases like Omtri’s in context.
An Oxford University study published in the British Medical Journal in August 2021 confirmed that certain Covid vaccines were associated with an increased risk of rare blood-related conditions including potentially dangerous clots, known as a thromboembolism.
The study revealed a higher incidence of venous clotting and low platelets due to the AstraZeneca vaccine and a higher risk of arterial clotting due to the Pfizer shot.
That study noted that contracting Covid itself posed a significantly higher risk of dangerous blood clotting than from the vaccine, and public health experts emphasised that the benefits of receiving protection against the virus far outweighed the risk of an extremely rare adverse event.
At the time, AstraZeneca said the vaccine had saved more than a million lives around the world, preventing about 50 million cases of Covid so far. A spokesperson for the firm said clotting was an “extremely rare side effect” and that the company was exploring ways to remove the risk altogether.
A University of Oxford spokesperson told the BBC in late 2021 that it was “follow[ing] with interest any new developments and investigation into potential causes for these very rare side effects associated with the vaccine, whilst being reassured by real-world effectiveness data that the vaccine remains a highly effective tool for combating this pandemic”.
Yet even earlier in 2021 the blood clotting concerns were enough for some European countries, including Germany, France, Italy, Spain and Denmark, to restrict or order reviews into vaccines similar to Covishield.
In the Supreme Court of India, government lawyers said the vaccines approved in India had all undergone a rigorous process involving multiple expert bodies, and that systems for monitoring adverse events were robust, decentralised, and transparent.
They also emphasised that serious side effects were extremely rare, putting clotting events at a fraction of a case per 100,000 doses.
Studies conducted by national health agencies, the lawyers further claimed, had found no direct causal link between Covid vaccines and sudden deaths.
Gangu’s daughter never regained consciousness after the stroke, and after receiving the devastating news that she had been declared brain dead the family were left to make a difficult choice.
“The doctor said if we could donate her organs, somebody else would live,” Gangu says. “My husband told me, you’re the mother. You decide. If she can’t be with us, at least let her provide life to others.”
They agreed, and an autopsy was conducted as is legally required before organ donations. According to the family, it confirmed cerebral venous sinus thrombosis, a rare type of clotting linked to the vaccine.
For Gangu, that confirmation brought clarity but not closure.
What followed was a different kind of struggle. “We asked the hospital for records but they wouldn’t release them,” she says. “We went to the district immunisation officer but [received] no information.”
It took multiple right-to-information requests for the family to obtain the records. “In November, we got a reply saying yes, her death was caused because of the vaccine,” Gangu says.
Health authorities don’t publicly confirm causation findings in individual cases and the classification of adverse events remains complex.
The Independent has contacted AstraZeneca, the Indian health ministry and the Serum Institute of India, the manufacturer of Covishield, for comment.
The court too refused to look into the scientific determination of causality in individual cases, leaving the matter to “domain experts” – specialists in their field who are involved in scrutinising pharmaceutical products before granting manufacturers approval.
It argued that extensive studies conducted by the Indian Council of Medical Research and the All India Institute of Medical Sciences “on sudden deaths among adults post Covid have conclusively established no linkage between Covid vaccines and sudden deaths”.
For families like Gangu’s, however, the distinction can feel abstract.
“Why are we hiding the facts?” Gangu asks. “Don’t people have the right to know?”
That question would become central to a broader legal challenge extending beyond a single case.
Hundreds of kilometres further south in Coimbatore, another family was asking similar questions.
Below is the link for the full judgement.https://t.co/Gr8NR2FS3e
— Venugopalan Govindan (@gvenugopalan) March 11, 2026
Below are my first impressions as a petitioner and as somebody who is sufficiently well versed with the relevant facets of this issue. I intend to write a detailed article sometime later on this.
-----------… https://t.co/6Uk12pmNo4
Venugopalan Govindan lost his daughter, Karunya, 20, after vaccination. The data science student and musician had been building what her father would later describe as “an accomplished life”.
“She was very charming, everybody remembers her fondly,” he says. “Now I know what she would want. She would want this to be prevented from happening to anybody else.”
Like Gangu, Govindan found himself navigating an “opaque system”.
“Try registering an adverse event,” he says. “You won’t be able to. Even if you do, it’s like a black hole.”
The government submitted to the court that any adverse event could be reported through official channels and it would be reviewed by expert committees. The petitioners argued that, in practice, the system was inconsistent, with cases underreported, misclassified, or delayed. Their experiences would form the backbone of the joint petition that culminated in this month’s ruling.
India’s vaccination drive was humungous. According to government data cited in court, nearly 2.2 billion doses were administered by late 2022. Around 92,000 adverse events were reported, with 1,171 deaths.
Most of the recorded events were classified as minor and only about 2,700 as serious or severe.
The petitioners pointed to the fact that other countries were limiting vaccines like Covishield over blood clotting concerns in 2021. “Our question was simple,” Gangu recalls. “Why didn’t our government inform the public?”
Government lawyers told the court India-specific data supported the safety and efficacy of Covid vaccines. They also argued that differences in population, genetics and epidemiology made direct comparisons with other countries difficult.
Authorities insisted that decisions were driven by domestic data and expert reviews. The court ultimately declined to adjudicate on scientific causation, making a distinction between medical debates and legal remedies.
Instead, it focused on a different aspect.
The court noted that India lacked a uniform structured system to compensate individuals who suffered serious adverse events following vaccination, particularly in a programme conducted nationally and under state authority.
The absence of such a mechanism, it said, could not be ignored.
So the court directed the government to create a framework for affected individuals or families to receive financial compensation without needing to prove negligence or liability.
At the same time, it was careful to clarify what this did not mean.
The scheme, the court said, should not be interpreted as an admission of fault by the government or any authority. It also refused to establish an independent body to investigate adverse events, saying existing expert systems should continue.
Individuals, the court added, would still be free to pursue other legal remedies, including consumer courts.
Gangu isn’t satisfied. “We were prepared that they would not say it was the government’s fault, but we were hoping at least there would be direction on informed consent,” she says.
The idea of compensation itself, she suggests, raises questions. “What does compensation mean?” she asks. “Do people have the time or resources to go to consumer courts if they are not satisfied?”
The no-fault framework is still being designed. It remains unclear how claims will be assessed, how compensation amounts will be determined or how accessible the system will be for families across socioeconomic backgrounds.
Govindan is more direct. “It is too little, too late,” he says. “In the absence of a functional system, this is not going to serve all people.”
For both families, the issue is not merely financial, it’s about recognition, transparency, and trust.
At the heart of the matter lies a tension that defined the pandemic years: the gap between public messaging and individual experience.
The affected families argue the government’s communication created “effective compulsion” where vaccination was officially voluntary but practically necessary for travel, education, and participation in public life.
“When we were vaccinated, the only thing they said was you could have a mild headache and fever,” Gangu says. “Take paracetamol.”
That didn’t help her daughter.
Govindan frames it as a question of transparency, saying those getting vaccines should have had a clearer picture of the risks. “Don’t give only the rosy side and hide the negative side,” he says. “Tell people the risks. Even if they are rare. And let them decide.”
Both families say they would have made different choices with fuller information.
“Absolutely not,” Govindan says when asked if he would have vaccinated his daughter if he knew then what he does now. “Zero per cent chance.”
Public health officials have argued that clear and confident messaging is essential during a crisis to ensure widespread uptake, and that ultimately the scientific evidence backs using vaccination at scale to reduce instances of severe illness and death.
Irrespective of the Supreme Court’s ruling and what it may ultimately lead to, the affected families continue to grieve.
Gangu can’t get over the fact that her daughter planned a life that never began.
The legal battle, she insists, was never about money. “I couldn’t stay silent,” she says. “If I don’t take action, who will?”
“It feels like a bad dream that I wish I could wake up from.”
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