I know a Superhero. I have known him since childhood. I have played with him, ate with him, argued with him and learned from him. I have witnessed his transformation from a normal human to a superhuman. I have done all that without ever realizing the true meaning of it until the superhero called timeout and decided to move on. He was my uncle.
I have heard hordes of childhood stories from my mother about how my uncle used to make umpteen trips for water every day, each time carrying two big water-pots from the community pump a few yards away from home to cater to the needs of a family of eleven; also about how my uncle used to have a ravenous appetite, easily downing ten jowar rotis with equally astonishing amounts of curry in a single meal. I have never been able to eat more than three of those. All this activity groomed him to grow a tall and sturdy frame perfectly suited to a person of sports. My mother, being the eldest daughter, helped my grandmother raise her younger siblings and so considers them her sons. No wonder she brags about how my uncle got chosen into the state hockey team and traveled the length of the country playing countless opponents, winning matches and accolades. He used to wear one of his gold medals all the time.
Maybe being an avid sportsman gave my uncle his never-surrender body and mind which were able to withstand the flurry of hardships life threw at him. His transformation into a superhuman germinated from an unfortunate event when the vehicle carrying him and few others back from the holy Sabarimala shrine met with an accident in 1991. Quite a few friends were consumed by the accident considering which it was a miracle my uncle survived the crash albeit with crushing wounds. He suffered multiple cranial fractures among other major injuries. After the accident he had to go through a brain surgery and an open heart surgery among a few other major medical procedures which demanded regular hospital visits and constant medical attention at home. I guess that was when he found his inner strength. He quit smoking but he also had to stop any rigorous physical activity. The amounts of time he had to spend in the hospital beds made him stronger and resilient and also oblivious to life's petty troubles which otherwise could easily consume a happy family.
Amidst those countless bills and medical frustrations, I have never seen him complain or cry about the injustice that God had meted out upon him. He had the same smiling, warm and a slightly arrogant demeanor as before, never wavering from his routine and never failing his duties. He never missed his daily walks. He even walked to office everyday. Although his brain surgery meant that he suffered seizures every now and then, all they could ever do was pause his routine for a couple of days and he was up and about again, new as ever.
It would only befit his story if there was a happily-ever-after ending around now. But in another twist of fate, his son met an untimely end to his fruitful life in an accident. That was the first time I saw my uncle sit eerily silent for a long time. I thought he was mourning his son silently, afraid of letting the tears out. My mom thought he was suppressing his sadness which may not be good for his health. Others thought he was unable to digest the fact that his son was no more. We never knew what storm was brewing behind his silence but now I like to think that he was mustering all his strength to face a rather void life, which otherwise would have centered around his son. He still went about his routine without much change except that his gusto was slightly missing.
Punctuated by his daughter's academic achievements, her wedding and the birth of his grandson, my uncle's life was almost back to normal which itself by my standards is nothing short of heroic. He never missed a family gathering or an event. But his boat was yet to withstand more jolts. His wife was diagnosed with cancer a couple of years ago. Although she valiantly fought it off and is better now, I couldn't fathom how my uncle was going through pain after pain without much ado. I, with the umpteen "unsurmountable sufferings" of every day such as traffic, tasteless food in the office cafeteria, bangalore's base auto-wallahs, not enough salary hike, and what not, can't help but quetch at every opportunity. And that I think is why I take my uncle to be a superhuman.
Perhaps he was fed up with fussy people around him; Perhaps he decided this world is no longer a worthy place for a fighter like him. Or maybe he just wanted to move on to greener pastures. Further to all the extraordinary days he had lived through, my uncle chose the festival of lights and victory as the day to stop living. For all the tough nuts he had cracked over the course of his life, he let a fever and seizure to overcome him.
Perhaps he was fed up with fussy people around him; Perhaps he decided this world is no longer a worthy place for a fighter like him. Or maybe he just wanted to move on to greener pastures. Further to all the extraordinary days he had lived through, my uncle chose the festival of lights and victory as the day to stop living. For all the tough nuts he had cracked over the course of his life, he let a fever and seizure to overcome him.
You need not be a saint or filthy rich to inspire people. You need not climb mountains or move governments to be deemed successful. And you need not be able to fly or crush aliens to be a superhero. Things as simple as not giving up in the face of life's adverse challenges and going about your duties and responsibilities without blaming and complaining are attainments enough. Everyone hopes for the best, few prepare for the worst and fewer face the worst without flinching. And for that, I am proud to say, I consider my uncle to be a man of steel.
