Never say die

Right In The Middle

More often than not, most unexpected tragic events like the Pandemic strike us in life, shattering our inner strength and wiping out the faith we had reposed all through in something supernatural. Life, at that point in time, looks meaningless with even our near and dear ones departing from us. Some succumb to the impact of the tragedy while the brave manage to brace themselves to weather the storm with fortitude.

I had spent a considerable period of time in the mid-1950s in the then USSR while working at the Bhilai steel plant and also more than three decades in close interaction with my Soviet counterparts at that plant. That was the time when the Soviet Union had emerged as a superpower after overcoming the colossal human and material casualties during the two World Wars. One could not fail to notice their never-say-die attitude, serving as an unfailing pick-me-up. It had almost become a trait among most of them to accept the worst adversity in life befalling them with a philosophical remark: “Nichhevo... Esscho khuzhe bivayut!”( take it easy, it could have been worse)

This simple expression, for them almost a gospel truth, had the power to assuage afflictions ranging from material and personal losses to the worst natural calamity. The remarkable aspect of this positive psyche was that it was not thrust upon them by any political or power dispensation. It was indeed a panacea borne out of their long-suffering during their worst post-war years.

My thoughts go back to a singularly remarkable incident that is indelibly etched in my memory, which glorifies this human trait. I was closely associated with my Russian counterpart, Alexei Fursov, a brilliant young engineer who became a close friend of mine, in the commissioning activities of the plant. That fateful day, while we were engaged in commissioning a coal crusher unit, his right hand got caught accidentally between the jaws of the crusher, and the arm had to be amputated to save his life. Being a witness to this gruesome tragedy, I was stunned to the core and depressed to no end. But instead of me consoling him, it was he who actually pacified me with the magic words: “Take it easy, dear comrade, worse could have happened. At least I have my left hand, and the rest of my body is intact” Though his body had suffered a grievous injury his “inner self’ remained as strong and resilient as steel.

He had to, however, be sent back to the USSR for further treatment. After about three months, I received a letter from him laced with his characteristic touch of humour: “I have written this with my left hand. Don’t you think this is far better than my ‘right’ handwriting?” What he had actually meant was, “I am only crippled physically but not finished.” Destiny favours the ones that are ‘Down but never out.’