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Wars Wreck Human Spirits

The French Open, the second Grand Slam tournament of tennis concluded on 11^th June 2023. Jubilation, exhilaration and disappointment were all evident amongst the contenders. 

What stood out was the Ukrainian players not shaking hands at the end of a match with their Russian or Belarusian opponents as is the norm. That protocol was done away with! Historically the handshake characterized peace, since empty hands hold no weapons.

The bitterness of war between Russia and Ukraine has wormed its way into sports and surely the echoes of wars are felt far and wide. 

I am not new to war. My first exposure to war was during the 1971 India-Pakistan War. I was a little girl then. 

My classroom in school had five rows of benches. All students were moved away from the benches near the windows leaving the first two rows empty. We were crammed into the remaining three rows. As children, fear was alien to us and we did not think much of it. 

Volunteers patrolled the neighbourhood. Sheets of brown paper were distributed, and everyone had to cover their apartment windows with the brown paper so that no light seeped out of the windows. One evening as we sat down to dinner, with a small light on in the kitchen, we heard shouts of, “Switch off the lights! Switch off the lights!” We quickly switched off the light and waited for further instructions. Perhaps enemy planes were nearby. We had read that the enemies main targets were the airport and the atomic research centre. The airport was near our home.

One evening we saw some colourful sparks floating down from the skies and then cries from volunteers for everyone to rush and take refuge in bomb shelters! 

We did not know what was happening. We thought those colourful sparks were bombs! Dad had not returned home; it seemed like a long time that we were huddled in a dingy hole, when I heard Dad’s voice! He asked us to come out and told us that it was not a bomb, but flares sent forth by our Air Force to deter the enemy planes that had ventured too close for comfort. Phew! Joy! Jubilation!

I have read and heard numerous horrendous stories from people who were affected by the partition of India. They lost everything in the partition and reached the nadir of their fortunes!

Then the Iran-Iraq War that raged from 1980 to 1988 saw me sail on blacked out ships with nary a navigation light, and portholes covered with brown paper. Ah ha! Déjà vu moments!

We are emotional creatures. The stand taken by Ukrainian players to show their displeasure over the war is understandable and commendable too. 

War causes untold damage! Haven’t we shared enough stories? Is that the reason wars are waged again and again? I am sure the ones calling for wars are someone’s children, parents, uncles, aunts, siblings. Don’t they feel the pain of loss?

This real story below is that of a little boy and his family and community, and lives lost brutally to war.

Shin’s Tricycle

Nobuo Tetsutani’s family lived in a small house near a quiet river that flowed through Hiroshima, Japan. Hiroshima was a fan-shaped city, lying mostly on the six islands formed by the seven estuarial rivers that branched out from Ota River. 

Nobuo’s family comprised of his wife, son, Shinichi (Shin), a three-year-old boy, and his two sisters, Michiko and Yoko.

Shin’s best friend was Kimiko (Kimi), the girl who lived next door. They played together and looked at picture books, especially the one that had a tricycle that Shin longed to have. 

One day Shin begged his parents, “You will buy me a tricycle, won’t you? Please, Mama, please, Papa, please!”

Shin’s mum, with a heavy heart told him, “We are sorry Shin, you will just have to learn to be patient. We all have to learn to live without the things we want right now.” 

You see, there weren’t any tricycles anywhere in Japan. In 1941 war broke out, and after four years of war, bicycles, temple bells, even pots and pans were melted down to build tanks and cannons. There were no new toys anywhere for any of the children. It almost seemed like an impossible dream. 

What a heart wrenching way to teach patience to a three-year-old! 

One day, Shin’s uncle, a sailor in the Japanese navy came to visit them. He had presents for the kids. The two girls received a pretty doll each, and he had a huge package in his arms. Shin came rushing and stared wide-eyed with excitement and asked his uncle if that was his gift?

Just then Shin noticed a little red handle poking through the wrapping. “Is that a tricycle?” Shin squealed; he could not believe what he saw.

Shin hurriedly tore away the rest of the wrapping and thanked his uncle. 

Just then, Shin’s mother asked her brother where he got a tricycle from? “I found it hidden in the back of my closet. Remember the one chichi (dad) bought for me when I was Shin’s age? It was a little worn out and rusted. I worked a bit on it and repainted it red. It looks as good as new now.” He then whispered to his sister and said, “Duty calls, I have to enlist and am sailing out soon and I will not be around for Shin’s birthday and hence decided to give it to him before I leave.” Shin’s mother said nothing. She stood quietly with tears welling up and brother and sister stood there hugging each other a little longer than they would otherwise do.

Shin, oblivious to the obvious, jumped on the bike, turned to his father and said, “Look Papa, dreams do come true!”

From that day on, every day Shin would ride the tricycle, it was impossible to separate Shin from his red tricycle.  

The morning of August 6, 1945, was a beautiful one. The morning was filled with sounds of birdsong and cicadas. The gentle breeze cooled the day and trees swayed in the morning breeze. In Japan cicadas were the sound of summer. They were a Symbol of Rebirth. 

Nobuo was getting ready for work. Suddenly, the serene beauty of morning was shattered by another air raid siren warning of a bomb attack!

People by then were so used to the sounds of siren and just went about their work. When the siren stopped, Shin and Kimi ran to the backyard, giggling as they jumped on the tricycle and rode around the yard. 

Some soldiers who were repairing the road in front of Nobuo’s house laughed as they watched the red tricycle speed by with Shin and Kimi beaming with joy.

Then there was a deafening sound, a blinding light, and an explosion! In a flash, there was darkness all around! 

Hours later when Nobuo woke up, all he saw was darkness! He seemed trapped! He did not know where! He could not move. As he squinted and looked around, he saw a faint light coming through a small hole above him. He moved his hands and felt the huge wooden beams that had pinned him down. He then reached up and touched something that felt smooth. It was the ceiling of his house. The entire house had collapsed on him! Slowly he crawled out. He stared in disbelief as he saw nothing around, no houses stood, no people, no temple, no Hiroshima! 

He cried out into the wind, “Is anyone around?” 

“Help!” he heard his wife’s scream, “Help me, Nobuo!”

He stumbled over their fallen house, and helped his wife out and then began digging frantically in the rubble. There was Shin, pinned under a big beam.

Quickly he lifted the beam while his wife gently pulled Shin out. His face was bleeding and swollen. He was too weak to talk but his hand still held the red handlebar grip from his tricycle. Kimi was gone, lost somewhere under the house.

Then he spotted the edges of two little dresses trapped beneath the roof. Behind them, a wall of fire raced toward their house.

“Michiko! Yoko!” He screamed. He rushed towards them. With all his strength, he tried to lift the roof beams, but he couldn’t. The fire was very close, and it was so hot he feared his clothes would start burning. Suddenly, the beams on top of Michiko and Yoko burst into flames.

“Michiko! Yoko!”, he cried in horror. He was helpless and could not save the girls. There was nothing he could do. But Shin still had a chance, so Nobuo and his wife rushed Shin away from the raging fire to the river. 

They encountered a horrendous sight by the riverbank! The survivors from the attack had gathered there, they were burnt, some were in shock, many were weeping, yet others screaming. 

Screaming for their loss!

Screaming for water!

Screaming with pain!

“Water, I want water,” pleaded Shin in a faint voice. Nobuo wanted to help him so much. But all around, people were dying when they drank the river water, so he did not dare give him any.

“Papa,” Shin whispered so quietly that one could barely hear him, ” My, my…tricycle. “

Nobuo squeezed his hand that still held the plastic grip. “Shin,” he said, “You still have the handle in your hand.”

His swollen face seemed to brighten, and a little smile spread across his face. But that night he died, ten days before his fourth birthday.

The next day he went back to where his house stood. There he found the little bones of Michiko and Yoko lying together. He burst into tears. “I’m sorry, my precious ones. Please forgive me.”

After he buried them, he cried for a long time, remembering how happy they had been just the day before.

The next evening, Nobuo and his wife dug a grave in their backyard for Shin, but before they buried him, Kimi’s mother arrived with the remains of her body. “They were such good friends,” she said sadly. “We should bury them together, Nobuo.” So, Shin and Kimi were buried together holding hands, along with Shin’s treasured tricycle which was found in the rubble.

Every evening thereafter, they stood by the river and called out to their kids, “Shin, Michiko, Yoko, Kimi!”

It is said time and tide wait for none. It was forty years after the atomic bomb turned Hiroshima into a graveyard. There was new life all around the city. Trees and shrubs sprouted everywhere. Children laughed and played in the parks. 

Nobuo and his wife remembered the laughter and chatter of their own kids. They were pained with memories of a happy time.

Nobuo and his wife were comforted that their kids were nearby, but they always wanted to give them a proper burial in a cemetery.

Finally, one day they began digging in the backyard and exhumed the remains as Kimi’s mother joined them.

Nobuo found the tricycle first and said, “Look, it’s the tricycle! I had forgotten it was there.”

“Look Nobuo, there is something white.” said his wife and Kimi’s mother in unison.

They all stared at the little white bones of Kimi and Shin, hand in hand as they had placed them. 

With sadness they buried the remains of the four children.

Nobuo gently lifted Shin’s tricycle and with tears streaming down took it home.

During dinner that evening, “This should never happen to children,” he said. “Maybe if enough people could see Shin’s tricycle, they would remember that the world should be a peaceful place where children can play and laugh.”

The next morning, his mind made up, Nobuo took the tricycle to the Peace Museum in Hiroshima in the hopes that Shin’s story would spur everyone on to fight against the brutality of wars. 

I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, “Mother, what was war?” Eve Merriam

References: Shin’s Tricycle by Tatsuharu Kodama

Wikipedia