Thiruvananthapuram: The death of a 10-month-old infant, Alin Sherin Abraham, in Kerala last week represented a deep sorrow for the parents, who transformed their grief into remarkable grace by providing life to four other children.
After the infant was declared brain dead at a hospital in Kochi, the parents, Arun Abraham and Sherin Ann John, chose to donate the child’s organs, giving four other children a renewed chance at life.
In a remarkable medical effort, the organs were transported from Kochi to three hospitals in Thiruvananthapuram in just three hours and 27 minutes, a logistical feat that underscored the strength of Kerala’s transplant network.
At normal speed without any police escort, the same distance at peak hours will take more than seven hours.
But what followed has sparked a more uncomfortable conversation.
On Sunday, as the funeral was held in Pathanamthitta, the grieving home and parish church witnessed a massive turnout.
Ministers, political leaders and public representatives made a beeline to offer condolences.
By Monday, Chief Minister Pinarayi Vijayan arrived, announcing that a proposed state organ transplant unit would be named after the child.
The gesture was positioned as a tribute.
Yet, with Assembly elections approaching, questions are being raised about the optics and the timing.
In Kerala’s deeply political culture, public mourning often blurs into public messaging.
Expressions of solidarity from elected representatives are not unusual.
But when condolence visits become near ceremonial events, accompanied by media glare and official announcements, the line between empathy and political signalling can appear thin.
Television channels competed for live visuals and continuous updates on the funeral day.
The presence of leaders, the swelling crowds many with no personal connection to the family and the swift policy announcement transformed what should have been an intimate farewell into a state-level moment.
A state funeral was also accorded, making the infant the youngest in the state to get one. The child also became the youngest donor.
However, the contrast with other crises lingers.
When Cyclone Ockhi triggered waves that battered coastal communities near the Vizhinjam port project, affecting hundreds of fishing families barely 10 kilometres from the Secretariat, the Chief Minister’s much-delayed visit drew public anger. Maybe the optics of urgency then were starkly different.
None of this diminishes the nobility of the parents’ decision or the lives saved. Organ donation deserves celebration.
But the death of a child is not a political stage. In a society that prides itself on compassion, the deeper question is whether collective solidarity must always be so public and whether, sometimes, dignity lies in letting grief remain private.
(IANS)
