THE GLORIOUS HEROISM OF PENG SHUILIN

THE GLORIOUS HEROISM OF PENG SHUILIN

V.SUNDARAM I.A.S.

"It is a waste of time to be angry about my disability. One has to get on with life and I haven't done badly. People won't have time for you if you are always angry or complaining." - Stephen Hawking

"I discovered early that the hardest thing to overcome is not a physical disability but the mental condition which it induces. The world, I found, has a way of taking a man pretty much at his own rating. If he permits his loss to make him embarrassed and apologetic, he will draw embarrassment from others. But if he gains his own respect, the respect of those around him comes easily." - Alexander de Seversky

THE PHENOMENON OF PENG SHUILIN

I am presenting below the inspiring saga of courage and supreme conquest of fear by a Chinese citizen called PENG SHUILIN whose body was sliced into two halves when he was run over by a freight truck in 1995. I have accessed the following information through the internet

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/1575854/Half-man-learns-to-walk-in-China.html which speaks for itself.

HALF MAN - HALF PRICE STORE ~ THE STORY OF PENG SHUILIN

In life we keep complaining about what is or why we don't have. Half the time we seem dissatisfied, though full-bodied and free to choose. Fat people say, “I want to be slim."
Skinny people say, “I want to be fatter." Poor people want to be rich and rich are never satisfied with what they have.

Peng Shuilin’s severed body after the accident in 1995

PENG Shuilin is 78cms high. He was born in Hunan Province, China....In 1995, in Shenzhen, a freight truck sliced his body in half. His lower body and legs were beyond repair.

Surgeons sewed up his torso. Peng Shuilin, 37, spent nearly two years in hospital in Shenzhen, southern China. Undergoing a series of operations to re-route nearly every major organ or system inside his body. Peng kept exercising his arms, building up strength, washing his face and brushing his teeth. He survived against all odds. 

Now Peng Shulin has astounded doctors by learning to walk again after a decade.

Considering Peng's plight, doctors at the China Rehabilitation Research Centre in Beijing devised an ingenious way to allow him to walk on his own, creating a sophisticated egg cup-like casing to hold his body, with two bionic legs attached. It took careful consideration, skilled measurement and technical expertise. Peng has been walking the corridors of Beijing Rehabilitation Centre with the aid of his specially adapted legs and a re-sized walking frame.

RGO is a recipicating gait orthosis, attached to a prosthetic socket bucket.
There is a cable attached to both legs so when one goes forward, the other goes backwards. Rock to the side, add a bit of a twist and the leg without the weight on it advances, while the other one stays still, giving a highly inefficient way of ambulation.

Oh so satisfying to 'walk' again after ten years with half a body! Exclaimed PENG SHUILIN

Hospital vice-president Lin Liu said: "We've just given him a checkup; he is fitter than most men of his age." Peng Shuilin has opened his own bargain supermarket, Called the Half Man-Half Price Store.

The inspirational 37-year-old has become a businessman And is used as a role model for other amputees. At just 2ft 7ins tall, he moves around in a wheelchair giving lectures on recovery from disability. His attitude is amazing, he doesn't complain. "He had good care, but his secret is cheerfulness. Nothing ever gets him down." You have a whole body. You have feet. Now you have met a man who has no feet. His life is a feat of endurance, a triumph of the human spirit in overcoming extreme adversity. Next time you want to complain about something trivial, don't. Remember Peng Shulin instead. 

What is strikingly unique and astonishing about Peng Shuilin is that he always endeavours to be joyous and happy, blissful and cheerful, despite the dark and grim tragedy that overtook him in 1995 when a freight truck cut his body into two parts. He seems to declare with an unshakeable resolve and unbending determination all the time that "I am neither an optimist nor pessimist, but a possibilist. Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced."

In this context, the following beautiful words of Helen Keller (1880-1968) are very relevant and worth quoting:

"If I regarded my life from the point of view of the pessimist, I should be undone. I should seek in vain for the light that does not visit my eyes and the music that does not ring in my ears. I should beg night and day and never be satisfied. I should sit apart in awful solitude, a prey to fear and despair. But since I consider it a duty to myself and to others to be happy, I escape a misery worse than any physical deprivation."

We cannot expect to live always on a smooth and even plane. We all face insurmountable problems, unabating worries and monstrous fears. We get tortured by setbacks, sorrows and misfortunes. There are deep rivers and deeper valleys to be crossed along the stormy path of life. They are a challenge to human endurance. But indomitable courage conquers all these hurdles. Down through the ages poets and philosophers in both East and West have been telling us so in a variety of ways.

“The things courage can do”

Long ago an Eastern Monarch, plagued by many worries harassed on every side, called his wise men together. He asked them to invent a motto, a few magic words that would help him in time of trial or disaster or distress. It must be brief enough to be engraved on a ring, he said, so that he could have it always before his eyes. It must be appropriate to every situation, as useful in prosperity as in adversity. It must be a motto wise and true and endlessely enduring, words by which a man could be guided all his life, in every circumstance, no matter what happened.

The wise men thought and thought, and finally came to the monarch with their magic words. They were words for every change or chance of fortune, declared the wise men…..words to fit every situation, good or bad…..words to ease the heart and mind in every circumstance. And the words they gave the monarch to engrave on his ring were:

“This, too, shall pass away”

Century after century, from the beginning of time, this old legend has survived to this day. They have survived because these words are wise and true and endlessly enduring. They have proved their power over and over again through the centuries, to uncounted number men and children, in every land in every age and every conceivable situation. Thy have given comfort to the afflicted, courage to the frightened, hope to the worried and distressed. “This, too, shall pass away”. Poets and philosophers have stressed these five (5) magic words over and over again, each in his own fashion but always with the same inspiring influence.

Paul Hamilton Hayne (1830-1886)

One day, about a 100 years ago, an American editor came across the above legend and was impressed by this ancient wisdom. He was Paul Hamilton Hayne, distinguished also as a writer of light verse. He was so enchanted by the legend that he published a brief story about it, and was astonished by the tremendous and lively interest it created. So he decided---as many had before, and many have since---to write some verses about the famous phrase . By some strange and mysterious alchemy, his simple lines of verse made an enormous appeal to the public. For many many years “This, too, shall pass away”, by Paul Hamilton Hayne, were carried around in purse and pocket by thousands and thousands of common people in America and England---getting enshrined in the hearts of people as their most favourite inspirational poem. I am giving below the full text of Paul Hamilton Hayne’s poem

        'Art thou in misery, brother? Then I pray

        Be comforted. Thy grief shall pass away.

        Art thou elated? Ah, be not too gay;

        Temper thy joy, this, too, shall pass away.

        Art thou in danger? Still let reason sway,

        And cling to hope: this, too, shall pass away.

        Tempted art thou? In all thine anguish lay

        One truth to heart: this, too, shall pass away.

        Do rays of loftier glory round these play?

        Kinglike art thou? This, too, shall pass away!

        Where'er thou art, where'er thy footsteps stray,

        Heed these words: This too shall pass away!

As I have already stated Paul Hayne’s poem won wide popularity in his own day; and it has kept circulating ever since, continuing to have its influence on the afflicted, the distraught, the discouraged. Every now and then it makes a tour of the newspapers or feature din magazines. Sometimes it appears with a different title, or with lines changed to suit the times, or with new verses added or subtracted.

Many other poets have also used the same theme and title, before and since. But the philosophy is always the same, and always helpful to the troubled or the despairing. I came across another poem which is as inspiring as Paul Hamilton Hayne’s poem cited above. I am presenting below this poem

This, Too, Shall Pass Away
 by: Lanta Wilson Smith, Source Unknown

When some great sorrow, like a mighty river,
Flows through your life with peace-destroying power
And dearest things are swept from sight forever,
Say to your heart each trying hour:
"This, too, shall pass away."

When ceaseless toil has hushed your song of gladness,
And you have grown almost too tired to pray,
Let this truth banish from your heat its sadness,
And ease the burdens of each tring day:
"This, too, shall pass away."

When fortune smiles, and, full of mirth and pleasure,
The days are flitting by without a care,
Lest you should rest with only earthly treasure,
Let these few words their fullest import bear:
"This, too, shall pass away."

When earnest labour brings you fame and glory,
And all earth's noblest ones upon you smile,
Remember that life's longest, grandest story
Fills but a moment in earth's little while:
"This, too, shall pass away."

Very much like the soothing and comforting inspirational poems of Paul Hamilton Hayne and Lanta Wilson Smith, is another poem by Grace Noll Crowell.

Grace Noll Crowell (1877-1969)

Grace Noll Crowell was an American poet and the author of 36 books of inspirational verse and 5,000 poems. Her work has appeared in hundreds of magazines and newspapers. Given an opportunity, I would very much love to chant the following poem sitting by the side of PENG SHUILIN.

This, too, will pass. O heart, say it over and over,

Out of your deepest sorrow, out of your deepest grief,

No hurt can last forever—perhaps tomorrow

Will bring relief.

This, too, will pass. It will spend itself—its fury

Will die as the wind dies down with the setting sun;

Assuaged and calm, you will rest again, forgetting

A thing that is done.

Repeat it again and again, O heart, for your comfort;

This, too, will pass as surely as passed before

The old forgotten pain, and the other sorrows

That once you bore.

As certain as stars at night, or dawn after darkness,

Inherent as the lift of the blowing grass,

Whatever your despair or your frustration—

This, too, will pass.

WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY (1849-19O3)

Seeing the unflinching, unswerving, indomitable, inflexible and irrepressible spirit of PENG SHUILIN, I am reminded of another heroic character called WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY who fought against a fell bodily disease for over 3 decades, undergoing a series of operations one after the other in almost interminable succession. Once when he was recovering from a dreadful surgical operation done by the pioneering English surgeon Dr. Joseph Lister(1827-1912), he wrote one of the most moving, inspiring and sublime poems in the English language called INVICTUS.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Out of the pain and suffering of his own personal life, out of the courage, and faith, and fortitude with which he accepted the cruel blows of fate one after the other, came “INVICTUS”—one of the most emotionally powerful and uplifting poems ever written. Today in English speaking schools all over the world, children learn to memorise and recite this inspiring poem. Though they may not entirely understand the meaning of its words, they feel the unmistakable impact of its force and power. And to countless thousands of men and women faced with sorrow, pain or fear, it has brought the courage to accept the blows of fate, to triumph over physical handicaps, and carry on with head unbowed.

William Henley wrote many poems in his lifetime, but on the strength of “INVICTUS” alone he has won immortality. ‘Invictus’ has brought new hope and the will to live to many who nearly lost their way, many who werer on the point of giving up. ‘Invictus’ belongs to mankind, now and for all the ages to come. Of all the poems ever written, this one perhaps typifies man’s rich inspirational heritage. If ‘Invictus’ has attained immortality and belongs to all mankind, so is the heroic example of PENG SHUILIN, THE SAGA OF WHOSE LIFE ALSO BELONGS TO THE AGES.

The best tribute I can pay to PENG SHUILIN for the spectacular victory of his indomitable spirit over his flesh can only be in the soaring words of WALT WHITMAN.

WALT WHITMAN (1819-1892).

O joy of suffering!

To struggle against great odds! to meet enemies undaunted!

To be entirely alone with them! to find how much one can stand!

To look strife, torture, prison, popular odium, death, face to face!

To mount the scaffold! to advance to the muzzles of guns with perfect

nonchalance!

TO BE INDEED A GOD!

ODE FOR THE UNKNOWN COMMON CITIZEN-HELPLESS VICTIM OF TERRORISM

V.SUNDARAM I.A.S.

10th Anniversary of 9/11

September 11, 2011 marks the 10^th anniversary of the savage terrorist Islamic attacks on the World Trade Centre in New York USA. The commemoration of the 10^th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks began on 11-9-2011, led by President Barack Obama, with the roll call of the dead being read out during a ceremony in New York. Few events have called forth a greater range of emotions: sorrow, courage, fear, pride, but – most of all – perseverance, hope, and resolve.

President Obama joined former President George W Bush, both shielded behind bullet-proof glass screens, and quoted from the Bible, reading from Psalm 46:4.

Michael Bloomberg, the Mayor of New York, then quoted Shakespeare, saying: "Let us not measure our sorrow by their worth, for then it will have no end."

The names of the dead were then read aloud by relatives of some of the victims. The readers had the opportunity to add a personal tribute to their relatives, some even held up photographs of their loved ones, and this formed the most poignant part of the service.

The simple ceremony - without any speeches - built a cumulative weight of loss as the names were counted and generated a sense of the ongoing sadness which has affected so many. The reactions among the thousands of people gathered at the memorial varied between grim dignity and quiet grief.

In his weekly radio address, President Barack Obama called for national unity as he attempted to reassure the nation in these words: "We are doing everything in our power to protect our people. And no matter what comes our way, as a resilient nation, we will carry on. The terrorists who attacked us that September morning are no match for the character of our people, the resilience of our nation or the endurance of our values."

On this sad and solemn occasion, I recall distinctly the following words of the former President George W Bush spoken on November 11, 2001:

“Time is passing. Yet, for the United States of America, there will be no forgetting September the 11th. We will remember every rescuer who died in honour. We will remember every family that lives in grief. We will remember the fire and ash, the last phone calls, the funerals of the children.”

Again on December 11, 2001, President George W Bush spoke as follows:

“Now, we have inscribed a new memory alongside those others. It’s a memory of tragedy and shock, of loss and mourning. But not only of loss and mourning. It’s also a memory of bravery and self-sacrifice, and the love that lays down its life for a friend–---even a friend whose name it never knew.“

Nearly 3000 people were put to sudden death by unforeseen terrorist attacks on the Twin Towers in New York on that fateful and frightful day of 9/11. There is an old beautiful English Proverb which says “DEATH CANCELS EVERYTHING BUT TRUTH.” The tragic truth of sudden traumatic death shook up the minds hearts and souls of the kith and kin of those 3000 people who were overtaken by sudden death on that day. How do I describe the convulsed feelings, emotions and sentiments of those near ones and dear ones of the victims? The very beautiful words of the great Welsh poet Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) are worth quoting here:

                       “Do not go gentle into that good night….

                        Rage, rage against the dying night”

Death is not anything. Death is not…it’s the absence of presence, nothing more…the endless time of never coming back….a gap you can’t see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound.

In my view the three thousand people who lost their lives on the morning of 9/11 in the Twin Towers have not died in vain. In support of this argument I would like to quote the solemn and sublime words of Dag Hammarskjold (1905-1961):

“Do not seek death. Death will find you. But seek the road which makes death a fulfillment “.

The spiritual observations of Herman Hesse (1877-1962) are also very relevant here:

“To die is to go into the COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS, to loose oneself in order to be transformed into FORM, PURE FORM.”

The most beautiful poem on the seismic and cataclysmic impact of sudden death on humanity as a whole is the one by W.H.Auden.

W.H.AUDEN ON ‘DEATH’

I
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crępe bows round the white necks of the public
    doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

II
O the valley in the summer where I and my John
Beside the deep river would walk on and on
While the flowers at our feet and the birds up above
Argued so sweetly on reciprocal love,
And I leaned on his shoulder; 'O Johnny, let's play':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O that Friday near Christmas as I well recall
When we went to the Charity Matinee Ball,
The floor was so smooth and the band was so loud
And Johnny so handsome I felt so proud;
'Squeeze me tighter, dear Johnny, let's dance till it's day':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

Shall I ever forget at the Grand Opera
When music poured out of each wonderful star?
Diamonds and pearls they hung dazzling down
Over each silver and golden silk gown;
'O John I'm in heaven,' I whispered to say:
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O but he was fair as a garden in flower,
As slender and tall as the great Eiffel Tower,
When the waltz throbbed out on the long promenade
O his eyes and his smile they went straight to my heart;
'O marry me, Johnny, I'll love and obey':
But he frowned like thunder and he went away.

O last night I dreamed of you, Johnny, my lover,
You'd the sun on one arm and the moon on the other,
The sea it was blue and the grass it was green,
Every star rattled a round tambourine;
Ten thousand miles deep in a pit there I lay:
But you frowned like thunder and you went away.

Eric Hoffer (1902-1983) was right when he wrote in 1954: “Death has but one terror, that it has no tomorrow.” One cannot live with the dead; either we die with them or we make them live again. Or else we forget them. That is why I am having recourse to my knowledge of history and literature to make the 3000 people who died on 9/11 live again.

In the aftermath of the tragedy on 9/11, there was a continuous outpouring of great poetry. Many poets came forward not only to find new emotions but also to use the ordinary ones and, succeeded in working them up into very evocative poetry. Here the words of the great poet T.S.Eliot come to my mind: “A gret poet’s mind is in fact a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings, phrases, images which remain there until all the particles which can unite to form a new poetical compound are present”.

The world is so great and rich, and life so full of infinite variety, that you can never lack occasions for poems. As to the pure mind all things are pure, so to the poetic mind all things are poetical. A great poet succeeds in seizing the PARTICULAR and if he finds anything sound or timeless in it, buoys himself up to represent the UNIVERSAL. Somerset Maugham (1874-1965) was absolutely right when he said in 1957: “The crown of literature is poetry. It is its end and aim. It is the sublimest activity of the human mind. It is achievement of duty and delicacy.”

As an instance of beautiful post 9/11 poetry, I would like to present the following poem by Nicholas Gordon

Nicholas Gordon

SO MAY A TINY, CLEVER ENEMY

So may a tiny, clever enemy
Wield more power than the greatest states.
Inventive, mutant, merciless murderers,
Now they plot as the world prepares and waits,
Each moment shadowed by catastrophe.

For us, the only road to victory
Lies through the valley of the sufferers,
Unified in love till death abates.

The above poem had a convulsive impact upon my thoughts, my feelings and emotions. In 1960 Dylan Thomas (1914-1953) wrote a beautiful essay titled “On Poetry”. In this essay he wrote: “A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape and significance of the UNIVERSE, helps to extend every man’s knowledge of himself and the world around him”.

In short, great poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess about what is seen during the lightning flash of a moment .

Wisława Szymborska

Nobel Prize-winning Polish poet Wisława Szymborska has given a graphic account of the 9/11 tragedy in her following poem “PHOTOGRAPH FROM SEPTEMBER 11.”

They jumped from the burning floors—
one, two, a few more,
higher, lower.

The photograph halted them in life,
and now keeps them  
above the earth toward the earth.

Each is still complete,
with a particular face
and blood well hidden.

There’s enough time
for hair to come loose,
for keys and coins
to fall from pockets.

They’re still within the air’s reach,
within the compass of places
that have just now opened.

I can do only two things for them—
describe this flight
and not add a last line.

By not adding a last line and by not giving the poem its expected (and easy) closure, Szymborska keeps the work open, the wound fresh.  

Del “Abe” Jones

Let me now present another poem titled ‘A DAY TO REMEMBER’ by Del “Abe” Jones

Anniversary is not a proper word
To mark the meaning of that day
And now, five years from that date
Is not nearly far enough away.

Too many families and loved ones
Still feel that pain down in their Soul
From the Towers to the Pentagon
To those who heard those words, “Let’s roll!”

Hearts still ache and tears still flow
On the eleventh of another year
Those who lost will always miss
All those People they hold, dear.

There are still unanswered questions
For those who ask the reason, “Why?”
Was it really necessary
For all of those folks to die?.......

…………………………………..

………………………

So as we celebrate the lives
And mourn all of those who died
In all their names we must try
To regain our Nation’s pride.

“By and for the People”
Is the way that it should be
And whether it will or not
That is all up to you and me.

The above poem was written in 2006 five years after the 9/11 attack. Del “Abe” Jones’s poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings. It takes its origin, shape and form from uncontrollable emotions recollected in tranquillity.

The sudden death of hundreds of men and women in a matter of less than one hour on 9/11 left the families of the innocent victims desolate, lonely and forlorn.  This grim tragedy made me suddenly aware of the following immortal lines of Laurence Binyon from his great poem during the dark days of the First World War. Whatever he said about the fallen soldiers in that poem, can well be adapted and made applicable to the 3000 or more victims who laid down their lives on 9/11.

LAURENCE BINYON (1869-1943)

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.

They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.

But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;

As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.

Millions of lives were lost during the Second World War from 1939 to 1945. When the War broke out on September 3, 1939, W.B.Yeats

William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

       THE SECOND COMING

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

Words of Remembrance

PERICLES (495-429 BC)

The following deathless words were written by PERICLES well over two thousand years ago, long before the first ANZAC Day---long long before 9/11.

“Each has won a glorious grave ---- not that sepulchre of earth wherein they lie, but the living tomb of everlasting remembrance wherein their glory is enshrined. For the whole earth is the sepulchre of heroes. Monuments may rise and tablets be set up to them in their own land, but on far-off shores there is an abiding memorial that no pen or chisel has traced; it is graven not on stone or brass, but on the living hearts of humanity. Take these men for your example. Like them, remember that prosperity can be only for the free, that freedom is the sure possession of those alone who have the courage to defend it.”