The Disappeared

 

To the ones who lost loved ones, and to the ones who saved lives, in the summer of 2021

A Splash Quite Unnoticed

Decades ago, I remember reading a poem about a man sitting in front of his house, waiting for the crows to come eat the rice balls kept on a plantain leaf - as part of the Shraaddha ritual for his father's death ceremony. He is devastated by the loss of the person he was closest to. But outside the gate he sees children in uniforms going to school, chatting, laughing, care-free - it is just an ordinary day for everyone else. And he wonders whether the most painful part of grief is how private it is, how intensely lonely.

But should it be? 

It is exactly one year since thousands of Indians lost close family members or friends in the horrific  Covid wave of Apr-June 2021. We even lost perfectly healthy people, fitness enthusiasts, and thousands of our young working population. And thousands nearly lost loved ones, went through long traumatic waiting periods of not knowing, not being able to even see the person who was struggling alone.

The world has moved on. As it must. This summer people have been partying, getting together, making up for lost time. Even as the possibility of yet another wave looms large. But for the ones who suffered the immediate losses, and the rest of us who were impacted by it, this is a horrific anniversary.

It is important to move on. That is part of being resilient. But the brutality of that summer. How does one get over it? What lessons did we learn from it? 

We have never seen a disaster of such proportions, cutting across class and caste. 

We have never in our lives seen our vast medical system collapse to such an extent. Thousands of people died waiting outside hospitals for oxygen and beds. 

We have never been in a situation where thousands had to die without seeing their families. Where families were not given the bodies of their loved ones. 

And the millions who lost their livelihoods, their bread winners, and have never recovered their old lives.

And the doctors and the hospital staff who worked tirelessly across months, without sleep, putting their own lives at risk.

And the ones who went on to suffer long Covid, or died of sudden heart attacks well after recovery.

And the ones who went on to suffer PTSD (Post-traumatic Stress Disorder) and never fully recovered.

And through it all, the thousands of amazing volunteer groups that formed within days across the country, working across cities and villages, forming task forces, war rooms, desperately trying to get oxygen, beds, and medicines for strangers, supplementing what the government struggled to do. So many of us are alive, so many of our family or friends are still around, because someone somewhere struggled day and night and got us help at the right time. 

We saw our worst, but we also saw our best, the incredible amount of compassion and drive there is in this country. 

Remembrance

In Akira Kurosawa's movie "Dreams", there is this amazing scene where  a stranger comes upon a funeral procession in a village. He is astounded to see that everyone is singing and dancing. When he asks why, they say - "We are glad that we got so many years with this amazing man, we are celebrating that!" 😀

It always reminds me of this evening in Toronto, 2006. 

"On a San Juan city side walk, outside the Rawson neighbourhood bike shop, one shoe and a pair of glasses got left behind. Last traces of you."

So read the lines next to one of the numerous photographs at the Steelworkers Hall on Cecil Street, Toronto, that cold evening. The Argentinian immigrants in the city had a week-long program in memory of the 30, 000 people who "disappeared" during the military coup of 1976, that ushered in a dark period of 7 years where countless people were taken away and killed, so many of them so young.

It was a lovely evening of remembrances, music, and dance. An evening to honour the ones we lost so they are not forgotten, and also to remember to be happy and move on despite our crushing losses. An evening of solidarity with those who lost loved ones, and still suffer.  

I remembered that evening today. It was such a befitting celebration, understated but warm and joyous. An affirmation that we are all connected, and we need not allow others to suffer sad anniversaries alone.  

What could we do to honour the thousands who disappeared last summer? 

What could we do to remember the strangers to whom so many owe their lives? 

What could we do for those who are re-living the nightmare on the first death anniversary of their loved ones?