I'm felling rather pensive today. It's the weekends and I've curled up with a Miranda Lee novel, which is about as non-thriller a book as I'm ever going to read. The afternoon heat seems to have got to me and I'm feeling pretty drowsy at the moment.
I just thought of something I saw the other day, which made me feel really weird for a long time afterward. Living as I am in a rather crowded part of suburban Aluva, I've seen my fair share of the disabled, or, as I'm loathe to call them, the under-privileged. But every once in a while, you meet one that leaves a deep welt in your heart, and you cannot but respect them for the way they have come to embrace theirs in life, as if they simply wouldn't have it any other way.
With me, it was these two men (let’s call them Tom and Dick), of not more than 25 that I saw at the bus stand. Both of them were blind and were using canes to negotiate their way through the rows of buses lining the place. I watched fascinated, as they walked holding hands, with Tom expertly leading his friend Dick behind him. Every once in a while, Dick would squeeze Tom’s hand as though scared he might let go, and Tom would reassure him with a quick squeeze in return. I marveled at the way he avoided small objects and obstacles on the road, while guiding his friend to do the same. Just as I was about to look away however, I noticed Tom beat a complex tattoo on Dick’s wrist, as though drumming out a code. I then realized that Dick was not only blind, but deaf as well. The two of them had worked out an ingenious system of signing. Dick paused a while as he deciphered the signs; then let out a low short laugh. The idiosyncrasy of their situation almost winded me.
I felt a thrill pass through me as I tried to imagine the symphonic perfection of the way they had architected their lives, each one supporting other and made stronger by the symbiosis. By now, I couldn’t take my eyes off them, rude though it may have seemed. It seemed to me to be almost cruelly ironical, that through the entire proceeding, not once did Tom or Dick ever stop smiling (the blind do it to hear better); as if it were the one way they had of proclaiming how they had defied life itself.
One may talk of how the differently-abled now are more empowered and helped by the community to lead “normal” lives. But one must never forget or underestimate the immense amount of self-will, patience and courage that it takes to pull oneself out of the crushing pit of despair one is in danger of falling into. To do so and, through patience and perseverance, to find the means to work around their setback deserves praise of the highest order. The centuries have given us stellar examples of such achievers, including Helen Keller, Ludwig van Beethoven and Stephen Hawking. The fact that more and more are able to insert themselves into the mainstream of life is an immense motivation. It also poses the question, “What is that we have accomplished that would put us at par with them?” Because make no mistake; they are where we’ve only always had the potential to reach, but never have.
I just thought of something I saw the other day, which made me feel really weird for a long time afterward. Living as I am in a rather crowded part of suburban Aluva, I've seen my fair share of the disabled, or, as I'm loathe to call them, the under-privileged. But every once in a while, you meet one that leaves a deep welt in your heart, and you cannot but respect them for the way they have come to embrace theirs in life, as if they simply wouldn't have it any other way.
With me, it was these two men (let’s call them Tom and Dick), of not more than 25 that I saw at the bus stand. Both of them were blind and were using canes to negotiate their way through the rows of buses lining the place. I watched fascinated, as they walked holding hands, with Tom expertly leading his friend Dick behind him. Every once in a while, Dick would squeeze Tom’s hand as though scared he might let go, and Tom would reassure him with a quick squeeze in return. I marveled at the way he avoided small objects and obstacles on the road, while guiding his friend to do the same. Just as I was about to look away however, I noticed Tom beat a complex tattoo on Dick’s wrist, as though drumming out a code. I then realized that Dick was not only blind, but deaf as well. The two of them had worked out an ingenious system of signing. Dick paused a while as he deciphered the signs; then let out a low short laugh. The idiosyncrasy of their situation almost winded me.
I felt a thrill pass through me as I tried to imagine the symphonic perfection of the way they had architected their lives, each one supporting other and made stronger by the symbiosis. By now, I couldn’t take my eyes off them, rude though it may have seemed. It seemed to me to be almost cruelly ironical, that through the entire proceeding, not once did Tom or Dick ever stop smiling (the blind do it to hear better); as if it were the one way they had of proclaiming how they had defied life itself.
One may talk of how the differently-abled now are more empowered and helped by the community to lead “normal” lives. But one must never forget or underestimate the immense amount of self-will, patience and courage that it takes to pull oneself out of the crushing pit of despair one is in danger of falling into. To do so and, through patience and perseverance, to find the means to work around their setback deserves praise of the highest order. The centuries have given us stellar examples of such achievers, including Helen Keller, Ludwig van Beethoven and Stephen Hawking. The fact that more and more are able to insert themselves into the mainstream of life is an immense motivation. It also poses the question, “What is that we have accomplished that would put us at par with them?” Because make no mistake; they are where we’ve only always had the potential to reach, but never have.
