The Stories We Celebrate—and the Questions We Ignore
By Priyobrata Bara (Development Journalist)
Rayagada: When survival becomes extraordinary, society must ask why ordinary rights remain out of reach.
Stories of extraordinary endurance often move us.
A job seeker runs barefoot, a grieving man carries his sister’s skeletal remains to a bank, and a villager carves a passage through a mountain. Their determination inspires admiration. But admiration alone is not enough.
The more important question is why ordinary people must endure extraordinary hardship to pursue a livelihood, access their own entitlements or overcome geographical isolation.
From Kavita Kumari to Jitu Munda and Dashrath Manjhi, these stories reveal a troubling tendency: society celebrates individual courage, often without examining the circumstances that made such courage necessary.
Resilience deserves admiration. But it should never become a convenient excuse for institutional failure.
The struggle for a livelihood. Kavita Kumari, a widow from Soso village in Jharkhand’s Ramgarh district, reportedly ran 1,600 metres barefoot in a saree during a Home Guard recruitment-related practice trial. The run was intended to familiarise candidates with the stadium, not to determine final selection. Her determination is undeniable. Yet the image raises a question beyond the recruitment exercise itself: what does the pursuit of a livelihood demand from someone for whom employment may be a lifeline?
News reports indicate that Kumari supports her family and has worked as a labourer. Her circumstances are individual, but the wider reality is familiar. In places where secure employment is scarce, government vacancies can attract overwhelming competition because they promise not merely a job, but stability and a measure of security.
The issue is not that people aspire to government employment. It is whether the economy offers enough alternative opportunities for people to pursue livelihoods without having to place their personal hardship on public display.
In April 2026, Jitu Munda carried the skeletal remains of his deceased sister to the Malliposi branch of Odisha Grameen Bank in Keonjhar district after reportedly facing difficulties withdrawing money from her account. The amount involved was ₹19,402.
The incident triggered public outrage and an administrative inquiry. Subsequent action included the suspension of the branch manager. The money was eventually settled in favour of Munda and two other legal heirs. The Union Department of Financial Services also issued an advisory to all 28 Regional Rural Banks, emphasising responsive and compassionate customer service.
These developments matter. They demonstrate that the episode prompted administrative intervention. But the central question goes beyond the suspension of an official or the eventual release of the money.
Why did a grieving man have to reach such an extreme point before his difficulty received the attention it deserved?
Banks have legitimate procedures to verify claims and protect deposits. But procedures are not meant to become barriers that leave citizens helpless. When people struggle with documentation or institutional requirements, officials have a responsibility to explain the process and guide them towards a lawful resolution.
The Munda episode exposes the distance that can exist between a service being formally available and a citizen actually being able to access it.
The settlement of the money resolved the immediate claim. The deeper test is whether the institutional response will prevent another person from facing a similar ordeal.
Dashrath Manjhi’s extraordinary effort to carve a passage through a mountain remains one of India’s best-known stories of determination. Using simple tools, he spent years cutting through rock to improve access between his village and surrounding areas.
His achievement deserves recognition. But the story also raises a question: should access to essential services and opportunities depend on an individual’s ability to overcome geographical barriers through extraordinary effort?
Roads and connectivity are not merely matters of convenience. They determine whether people can reach hospitals, schools, markets and public offices. For communities in remote, hilly and forested regions, geographical isolation can deepen existing disadvantages.
Manjhi’s personal struggle does not, by itself, establish negligence by any particular authority. Its wider significance lies in the responsibility of the state to ensure that communities are not left to overcome isolation on their own.
His achievement changed the landscape around him. The larger responsibility of governance is to ensure that ordinary citizens do not have to undertake extraordinary labour simply to reach the opportunities and services others take for granted.
These three stories are different, but their underlying question is the same.
One person runs barefoot in pursuit of employment. Another carries the remains of a deceased relative while seeking access to money. A third spends years cutting through a mountain to improve connectivity.
We remember them because their actions are extraordinary. But should admiration be the end of the conversation?
A society must look beyond the courage of individuals and examine the conditions that make such courage necessary. A job seeker’s determination cannot substitute for adequate livelihood opportunities. A grieving man’s anguish cannot replace accessible public services. A villager’s extraordinary labour cannot absolve society of its responsibility to connect remote communities.
Nor does every instance of personal hardship automatically establish institutional negligence. Each case deserves factual examination. But the absence of established culpability in an individual case should not prevent society from asking broader questions about access, dignity and institutional responsibility.
The danger arises when human suffering becomes a source of inspiration while the circumstances behind it remain unexamined.
Development is not simply the capacity of individuals to overcome deprivation. It is the ability of society to remove the barriers that make such struggles necessary.
The true measure of governance is not how many extraordinary individuals emerge from extraordinary hardship. It is how few ordinary citizens are forced into extraordinary situations merely to exercise their basic rights.
Before celebrating survival as a virtue, we must ask the question that matters most: why did survival demand so much in the first place?
