The heroes we do not name
At a recent literature festival, I was invited to speak on a panel that explored the idea of "after-hours heroes"-those who pursue writing after completing the demands of a long professional day. It is an appealing phrase, yet as I reflected more deeply, I began to feel that it captures only a small part of a much larger reality.
Most writers live such lives, working to sustain themselves while writing in the margins of their day, driven by an inner necessity-an act of persistence; and in that sense, the after-hours writer is not an exception but the norm, yet even this does not take us far enough, because when one looks around, one notices another kind of heroism-far quieter, far less visible, and almost never acknowledged.
I have seen this within my home. My wife has been a steady and grounding presence through life's fluctuations, holding together an emotional balance that often goes unnoticed because it is so constant. My daughters, in their own ways, reflect a similar strength, revealed not in display but in continuity.
Beyond the home, too, there are stories that remain largely untold. There is a woman in our residential society who was the first girl in her village to be sent to school. She lives in Gurgaon, often away from her husband who serves in a transferable government job, while she anchors her children's education. Alongside this, she serves on the governing body of the society, contributing to improving living conditions for others. There is no narrative, no formal recognition, and yet she is managing multiple roles, each carried out with a quiet sense of purpose.
These are not after-hours heroes, because their work does not begin after the day ends. It runs through the day, and beyond. My wife, without formal training, has immersed herself in environmental work and teaching underprivileged children. She helps shape a future that is more conscious and responsible.
I have often spoken about a young boy whose education we supported from Class 7, and who has appeared for his Class 12 examinations. It is easy to recognise his journey as one of determination, but behind that journey lies another story-that of his parents.
For a self-respecting parent, the act of seeking support is not easy. It involves a negotiation with one's sense of dignity, a willingness to step beyond discomfort for the child's future. That decision, though rarely acknowledged, is an act of courage.
When one begins to look at the world through this lens, such stories seem to appear everywhere-parents making difficult choices, individuals contributing quietly, women holding together multiple responsibilities without pause. These are not exceptional lives; they are simply lives that have not been named as such.
Perhaps, then, the question is not merely about identifying heroes, but about recognising the role we can play in enabling them. Often, it is not a grand intervention that alters the course of a life, but a small and timely act of support-a decision taken, a hand extended, an opportunity created. In doing so, we do not simply support one individual; we contribute to the creation of many more who carry forward that possibility.
And perhaps that is where the idea of heroism must be expanded-not limited to those who create after hours, but inclusive of those whose hours are never truly their own, and yet who continue, without pause, to create, to sustain, and to give.
The writer is founder of Kala - Krazy About Literature And Arts, is an author, speaker, coach, arbitrator, and strategy consultant ; views are personal
