Relative Darkness
It was the red and white cane that caught my eye as I swept past.
It was the red and white cane that caught my eye as I swept past.
Right in front of the bus stop at Mahalaxmi Bridge
Stubble. Faded clothes. Sandals down to heel. This wasn’t NAB blind. Not pin-prick Braille blind, not Cumballa-Hill-leisure-lady-dabbling-in-social-work-will-read-to-you-Fridays blind. This was zoppadpatti blind. Bhiwandi blind. Blind and come far the hard way and not obliged to anybody, thank you, growled the body language.
But she was smiling.
No cane for her, just one finger casually twisted around the hem of her husband’s shirt. Standing comfortably at his side and God knows the stony roads she had traveled to reach there.
And I couldn’t.
1 comment:
You know what..very recently through my college network, a case was brought up. A collegemate, a few years senior, is fighting his son's Hodgkin's Lymphoma. He is in Mumbai, getting him treated, everybody rally around and help- said the appeal.
I and another friend went over to Bharat Sevasram Sangha in Vashi where the family was staying. He is an electronics engineer, who renounced conventional engineering career and is teaching in a small polytechnic in a district in Bengal. The son has just appeared in his board exams and is within top fifty students in the state. They have little money, father has exhausted all his meagre PF in the first phase of the treatment. And here in Mumbai they were staying in a one room in a slum. There's no other word for it. We were more embarassed than them. They floored us with their candour, easygoing nature, acceptance of circumstances and their bright smile. They were astounding. I held their hands, sitting on the dirty bed with utensils strewn on the floor, where they were cooking rice and boiled potatoes for lunch. Yes we do have a strong college network, which will eventually raise money for the treatment. But that spirit will win anything. Even cancer.
Later that day I took my children to Just Round the Corner in Bandra. Without any preparation, I broke down in front of them. I could not switch my college friend and his son off. I told them about the non sanitised, difficult, painful, frugal existence, sitting in that bright, modern, glitzy eatery with fashionable folks and mouth watering food. My children held my hands and listened quietly. I thought they understood.
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