Moms, Unsung Heroes, and The hole of Capitalism

 My house was resonating loud with the speeches of Ravi Lamichhane as usual. My mom, a big stan, cannot help but nod her head with peace to his words while she cooks breakfast for us. This is a daily routine — my mom wakes up at 5 AM, listens to Ravi speak, and patiently waits till I wake up to tell me that I should be as great as the Majestic Ravi. But this morning, something different happened and it told a lot of hidden stories. I heard my mom whisper to herself, ‘Oh, I see people or should I say heroes of my age changing the world, and here I am, stuck and struggling’. Melancholy struck me like violent storms in an ecstasy rally. 

I felt a sudden unfairness, similar to the feeling you get when you truly realize how unfair this world is, a similar feeling to the one you get when you see starving people sleeping on the cold roads outside the President’s bungalow. I hated it. I hated how the unsung songs of unsung heroes were barely heard. Tonight, I want to write about it. 

Moms are simply amazing. If you observe a typical Nepali mom, most times under the shackles of patriarchy and typical dis support, she fights to save her children. My single mother has been working days and nights to make sure that I reach the place we aspire to reach. These are all the nights of hidden sacrifice, like the extra late hours she worked at our family store, the Lalmon piece she gives me from her portion knowing how much I love it, the early morning Jwano Pani when I get sick, the random jokes and love — all while her own existential path continues, she chooses to sacrifice that for what she values. 

Such actions need sacrifices that are tougher than the worst of life. Why is this sacrifice any less than the sacrifices billionaires make? In the end, isn’t human life subjective? Aren’t the situations you are put through in life unique? Why is the worth of sacrifices based on external possessions and not the human spirit? 

I share similar sentiments for the millions of unsung heroes society deems unworthy. Why isn’t a drug addict, trapped inside years of Heroin’s hope,  trying their best to fight addiction a hero? Why isn’t a child whose small street shop has more cigarettes than chocolates to pay for her mother’s medicine heroic? Why isn’t someone with mental illness working tirelessly to not let disease ruin their life seen as struggle and effort? Why do we only glorify heroes on the basis of what is visible and socially acceptable? 

I believe this is one of the deepest holes of capitalism that eats humans inside out. Success is socially pre-defined and is based on certain models contingent on external factors like fame, consumerism, and hierarchies. Work is work whether it be a CEO cramming for 10 hours a day or a potter spending sleepless nights to make the best flower vase. It’s just that some form of work is more appreciated than others. While it makes sense to glorify doctors on the basis of how much they help people, the same analogy and corresponding sentiment are often found missing for taxi drivers, sewage workers, and vegetable vendors. 

Where it gets even worse is when the definition of satisfaction and a good life is contingent on these very external factors like status, prestige, material and experience-based consumerism, etc. It could be seen in presumptions like if X is a doctor, they probably have an amazing life as compared to a struggling artist. While financial security is crucial for a good quality of life, it isn’t the only factor that defines it. This could explain why a lot of millionaire singers sing about how they have all the money in the world but aren’t still happy. What it, therefore, leads to is the emptiness of the human soul — a life based on constants and comforts, the nullification of one’s desires and dreams. (more on this thought on a different blog)

Life and experiences are subjective. My mom is a bigger hero for me than any person at top of the world right now. Unsung heroes have always been there — we just have been too blinded to see it.