I picked up the telephone when it rang, and the voice at the other end wished me a cheerful good morning. He was a student I read to regularly, and he was having his examinations round the corner. Could he come over for some help ? Of course, I told him, and started to reel off my address – then paused. How will he take it down ? I stopped but he asked me to continue. How will you write it Dharma, I asked him. You tell me madam, I can memorise it, he said. I, suitably humbled at doubting his ability to be independent, reeled off the bus numbers and the address to my place. He thanked me and rang off, promising to be at my place at the dot of twelve the next day. I then remembered how he fed in my telephone number into his mobile the other day, refusing my help to do so, saying he could do it himself. But to make me feel better (!) he showed me the number and asked me to check whether it was correct !!!
I remembered, when I had to read Wordsworth, a very visual poet, to him and his friends, I was constantly faltering for words, which would not convey the usage of the sense of sight. How would they understand? They had never known what it is to see. They would not know the concept of the rainbow across the sky, and how the poet feels when he sees a host of golden daffodils. The poet could reproduce the visual imagery of the daffodils in his mind’s eye, when he was in a vacant or a pensive mood; that is because he had gathered the actual, physical visuals. How do I explain that to these boys ?
I need’nt have worried; They were able to get the essence of the beauty of nature. They could feel it, they said. Their enjoyment of the poem somehow seemed deeper than a sighted person. Rossetti’s bereaved lover from the heaven was able to communicate with them better and convey her sorrow to them better than to any reader, I felt, when one of them remarked “ Madam, how is the poet able to visualize so much about heaven, when he has not even seen the place ?” This was only a poem, I wanted to tell him. You are living your entire life, creating visuals of the world based purely on the other four senses that you have, of relating to this world.
Every time I came back from a reading session, I marveled at these determined boys, who were progressing on the path of education, not letting a mere lack of vision daunt them in any way. They did not even have proper text books to study from; yet I have not heard one of them complaining. I have seen them waiting patiently, for a reader to come over and open the world of knowledge to them. Living without vision was a way of life which we might not even imagine. What we take so much for granted, our vision, is something they too have taken for granted: not having it.
Never though, did they raise a feeling of compassion or sympathy for themselves; you cannot pity someone who is so much stronger than you in strength of character, and in their spirit of determination; you cannot feel sorry for one who refuses help with dignity, but can also accept it gracefully, without a false sense of self-worth.
How many of us even stop to count our blessings ?
Mohana Narayanan
22/12, Ist cross
Shastrinagar
Adyar, Chennai 600020
bhagvati8@yahoo.com
I remembered, when I had to read Wordsworth, a very visual poet, to him and his friends, I was constantly faltering for words, which would not convey the usage of the sense of sight. How would they understand? They had never known what it is to see. They would not know the concept of the rainbow across the sky, and how the poet feels when he sees a host of golden daffodils. The poet could reproduce the visual imagery of the daffodils in his mind’s eye, when he was in a vacant or a pensive mood; that is because he had gathered the actual, physical visuals. How do I explain that to these boys ?
I need’nt have worried; They were able to get the essence of the beauty of nature. They could feel it, they said. Their enjoyment of the poem somehow seemed deeper than a sighted person. Rossetti’s bereaved lover from the heaven was able to communicate with them better and convey her sorrow to them better than to any reader, I felt, when one of them remarked “ Madam, how is the poet able to visualize so much about heaven, when he has not even seen the place ?” This was only a poem, I wanted to tell him. You are living your entire life, creating visuals of the world based purely on the other four senses that you have, of relating to this world.
Every time I came back from a reading session, I marveled at these determined boys, who were progressing on the path of education, not letting a mere lack of vision daunt them in any way. They did not even have proper text books to study from; yet I have not heard one of them complaining. I have seen them waiting patiently, for a reader to come over and open the world of knowledge to them. Living without vision was a way of life which we might not even imagine. What we take so much for granted, our vision, is something they too have taken for granted: not having it.
Never though, did they raise a feeling of compassion or sympathy for themselves; you cannot pity someone who is so much stronger than you in strength of character, and in their spirit of determination; you cannot feel sorry for one who refuses help with dignity, but can also accept it gracefully, without a false sense of self-worth.
How many of us even stop to count our blessings ?
Mohana Narayanan
22/12, Ist cross
Shastrinagar
Adyar, Chennai 600020
bhagvati8@yahoo.com
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