Blind Sight

A man passed by me close, I asked my way; he said

`Come follow me, my friend` - I followed where he led.

He rapped the stones in front, `Trust me,` he said, `and come`

I followed like a child - A blind man led me home – William H Davies

I was feeling marginalised at home. I was feeling marginalised at work. It’s horrid to be marginalised as a woman (that’s a serious disability – the worst “caste” you can belong to, because you are counted as being lower than the meanest, most “loser”ish, and most misogynistic man!). It’s awful to be considered an “over-the-hill” woman, who has lost the elasticity of youth.

My mind is very elastic (thank you) and is always mulling on new ideas and helps me to get new insights and skills, I think rebelliously. In fact many youngsters are rigid in their ideas, on their way to becoming excellent bureaucrats who worship rules more than the rationales that give rise to those rules! They are just a bunch of constipated stuffed frogs, I fume. Talk of the fence eating the crop!

Back to the scene his morning – I got off the bus at Sony signal, as it was turning off towards Viveknagar. An adolescent boy nonchalantly occupied a “ladies” seat. The conductor refused to ask him to give me the seat. “Misandry, thy name is PDK”, thought I, as righteous anger and contempt at that mean, miserable worm flooded my disgruntled mind. There was one more of that misdirected species, standing there at the stop. He wanted to know if the bus would go on to Domlur. It would, said the conductor, but in a roundabout way. Misandrous thoughts notwithstanding, I decided to enlighten this much-mistaken man!

“Excuse me”, I tapped him on the shoulder, “But the most direct route to Domlur is from the stop across the road, opposite Oasis mall”.

“Where is it?” asked the man – and turned his sightless eyes on me. This was no loser! He had a briefcase and was obviously on his way to work at the early hour of 8:00 AM. I led him to where I wanted to catch my own bus. I chided myself for my earlier disgruntlement, “There, but for the grace of God, go I!”

My new friend said he was getting late and would prefer to go by auto. I hailed him one and saw him into it safely, when he suggested that I should get a drop too. My office was en route to his destination – ISRO, where (I learnt) he was a techie. He phoned his colleague correctly to inform him that he would be a few minutes late. When the auto stopped for gas, he correctly and confidently counted out the fifty-rupee change that the auto-man wanted to borrow.

Soon we came to the Domlur flyover and I wanted to pay my share of the fare. “No”, said the gentleman, “You showed me the way. You took time off for it. This is the least I can do for you! ‘Bye”. The auto sped off.

A blind man led me to my office; cleaned the cobwebs of my brain; and filled me with positivity.