Finbarr honoured for his caring nature

A man who has spent 40 years tending to the graves of the victims of the Air India disaster was honoured in Cork.

Finbarr Archer, the Lord Mayor’s driver, has quietly devoted much of his life to caring for the resting place of Annu and Rena Alexandra. The mother and daughter were among the 329 people killed on 23 June 1985, when a bomb ripped through Air India flight 182 as it flew off the southwest coast of Ireland. It remains the worst aviation tragedy in Irish history.

Most of those who perished were of Indian descent. While the majority of the victims’ bodies were repatriated, Annu and her young daughter Rena were laid to rest in St Michael’s Cemetery in Blackrock. Their family could not be there, and their bodies were never claimed.

At the time, Finbarr was working for a local undertaker. His job was to help document the remains of the 132 victims brought ashore. It was a harrowing task, one he has never forgotten. Among those remains were Annu and Rena, buried together in a single grave.

There was nobody in Ireland to tend their grave, nobody to leave flowers, nobody to remember them. Quietly, Finbarr decided to take that role on himself.

For four decades, he has returned again and again to their graveside. He has cleared the grass, left flowers, and kept watch over the resting place of two strangers. Each year, on the anniversary of the bombing, he has organised a small commemoration to ensure Annu and Rena are never forgotten.

Last weekend, that lifelong promise was recognised. The Cork Sarbojonin Durgotsab, a cultural group celebrating Indian traditions and contributions to community life, presented Finbarr with its first Shamrock Lotus Award during their Durga Puja celebrations in Ballincollig.

The group described his actions as showing “extraordinary compassion, humanity and service to society,” adding that his dedication proves kindness has no borders and remembrance has no end.

In Cork, Finbarr is best known as the Lord Mayor’s driver — the man who spends long days ferrying the city’s first citizen from one engagement to the next. But away from the public eye, his quiet devotion to two strangers has spoken just as loudly as any public duty.

Forty years on, Finbarr still feels the same responsibility he did in 1985. “I just couldn’t let their graves go untended,” he said. “They deserved to be remembered.”

This article was produced with the support of the Local Democracy Reporting Scheme funded by Coimisiún na Meán.