Today is Memorial Day in the US and some other countries.
Most of the commemorations that mark this day--the parades, airshows, ballgames and other gatherings--have been cancelled because of the COVID-19 pandemic. I am sure many events are being held online and that, where restrictions have been lifted, people are having picnics and barbecues in their yards, in parks and on beaches. In that sense, at least, this Memorial Day is like earlier ones.
Another way in which this day is similar to earlier Memorial Days is that the word "heroes" will be used a lot. Most of the time, it refers to those who fought, and sometimes died, in the nation's wars. Now, while I believe that the only true advance the human race could ever make is to get rid of war and beat swords into ploughshares, as the book of Isaiah implores us, I believe that those who gave their bodies, and lives, in service of human dignity deserve to be celebrated as heroes. They include, among others, those who fought against Hitler (who, I believe, came closer than anyone else to embodying pure evil in this world) as well as those who are experiencing the trauma of treating people who are sick and dying from something we can't see. Also included are those who are helping communities function, whether by making or delivering whatever goods or services people need, or helping others access those things.
The other day, I heard about another real hero. She (Does anybody use the word "heroine" anymore?) hasn't worked in a hospital ward or nursing home because, to be fair, in most places she's not even old enough to get the education or training she'd need to do such things. She also hasn't brought food to 90-year-olds languishing alone in their apartments or educated people about hygeine. In fact, her courageous act had nothing to do with her larger community, although she has been feted as the "Lionhearted" throughout her country.
Jyoti Kumari is a 15-year-old girl from Sirhulli, a village near the Nepalese border. Its state, Bihar, is one of the poorest in India, which is saying something. Her father, Mohan Paswan, like many men from the area, is a migrant laborer who found himself out of work and stranded near New Delhi, about 700 miles away.
He might've tried what many in his situation have tried: walking back to his home village. Younger and healthier men have perished in their attempt to return to their families and friends: They have been run down by trucks or trammeled by trains. Or, they have simply collapsed in the brutal heat of the countryside.
Jyoti's dad was injured and barely able to walk--in addition to being out of work, almost out of money and without a means of transportation. He could have been another casualty of the pandemic and, being of a low caste, some of the world's worst economic inequalities. But, as it turned out, his daughter possesed qualities--ingenuity and sheer grit--that were more powerful than anything that he was suffering.
For the equivalent of $20--the last of their savings--she bought a purple bike. She jumped on it and he perched on the rear. Along their 1200-kilometer journey, she borrowed cellphones to deliver this message: "Don't worry, mummy. I will get Papa home good."
(I think that should be an inscription on a medal: The Purple Bicycle?)
That she did. To say it wasn't easy would be an understatement: While Jyoti is strong and confident on a bike, having done a lot of riding in and around her village, she was hauling her father, a big man with a big bag, through unrelenting sun. Just as daunting, perhaps, as the weather and terrain were the taunts she endured from locals who believed it was ridiculous or just wrong for a girl to pedal while her father sat in the back.
But there were also strangers who helped them. Also, by the time they got home, the news of their journey had spread all over the media--and Onkar Singh, who called her while she was resting up.
Mr. Singh is the chairman of the Cycling Federation of India. He's invited her to New Delhi for a tryout with the national team. "She has great talent," he said.
She said she's "elated" and really wants to go.
Jyoti Kumari has certainly earned the opportunity. And, I believe, Onkar Singh knows a hero when he sees one.
Most of the commemorations that mark this day--the parades, airshows, ballgames and other gatherings--have been cancelled because of the COVID-19 pandemic. I am sure many events are being held online and that, where restrictions have been lifted, people are having picnics and barbecues in their yards, in parks and on beaches. In that sense, at least, this Memorial Day is like earlier ones.
Another way in which this day is similar to earlier Memorial Days is that the word "heroes" will be used a lot. Most of the time, it refers to those who fought, and sometimes died, in the nation's wars. Now, while I believe that the only true advance the human race could ever make is to get rid of war and beat swords into ploughshares, as the book of Isaiah implores us, I believe that those who gave their bodies, and lives, in service of human dignity deserve to be celebrated as heroes. They include, among others, those who fought against Hitler (who, I believe, came closer than anyone else to embodying pure evil in this world) as well as those who are experiencing the trauma of treating people who are sick and dying from something we can't see. Also included are those who are helping communities function, whether by making or delivering whatever goods or services people need, or helping others access those things.
The other day, I heard about another real hero. She (Does anybody use the word "heroine" anymore?) hasn't worked in a hospital ward or nursing home because, to be fair, in most places she's not even old enough to get the education or training she'd need to do such things. She also hasn't brought food to 90-year-olds languishing alone in their apartments or educated people about hygeine. In fact, her courageous act had nothing to do with her larger community, although she has been feted as the "Lionhearted" throughout her country.
Jyoti Kumari is a 15-year-old girl from Sirhulli, a village near the Nepalese border. Its state, Bihar, is one of the poorest in India, which is saying something. Her father, Mohan Paswan, like many men from the area, is a migrant laborer who found himself out of work and stranded near New Delhi, about 700 miles away.
He might've tried what many in his situation have tried: walking back to his home village. Younger and healthier men have perished in their attempt to return to their families and friends: They have been run down by trucks or trammeled by trains. Or, they have simply collapsed in the brutal heat of the countryside.
Jyoti's dad was injured and barely able to walk--in addition to being out of work, almost out of money and without a means of transportation. He could have been another casualty of the pandemic and, being of a low caste, some of the world's worst economic inequalities. But, as it turned out, his daughter possesed qualities--ingenuity and sheer grit--that were more powerful than anything that he was suffering.
For the equivalent of $20--the last of their savings--she bought a purple bike. She jumped on it and he perched on the rear. Along their 1200-kilometer journey, she borrowed cellphones to deliver this message: "Don't worry, mummy. I will get Papa home good."
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| Jyoti Kumar, her father and the bike. From BBC Hindi. |
(I think that should be an inscription on a medal: The Purple Bicycle?)
That she did. To say it wasn't easy would be an understatement: While Jyoti is strong and confident on a bike, having done a lot of riding in and around her village, she was hauling her father, a big man with a big bag, through unrelenting sun. Just as daunting, perhaps, as the weather and terrain were the taunts she endured from locals who believed it was ridiculous or just wrong for a girl to pedal while her father sat in the back.
But there were also strangers who helped them. Also, by the time they got home, the news of their journey had spread all over the media--and Onkar Singh, who called her while she was resting up.
Mr. Singh is the chairman of the Cycling Federation of India. He's invited her to New Delhi for a tryout with the national team. "She has great talent," he said.
She said she's "elated" and really wants to go.
Jyoti Kumari has certainly earned the opportunity. And, I believe, Onkar Singh knows a hero when he sees one.
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