An able world!

RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE

The mango and neem leaves I strung together on my door entrance to welcome the Telegu/Kannada new year reminded me of the stories they had to tell. Of the space that they were born and nurtured in.
The Ramana Maharishi school for the blind in JP Nagar is a world in itself — that I visited with my mother-in-law recently. She wanted me to meet her cousin’s son who is its founder. He used to comb her hair and adorn it with flowers when she was eight years old, and he a couple of years younger.
As he took us around inside the world of the blind and the physically and mentally differently-abled that he has nurtured for over five decades, what I saw with the privilege of my sight left me speechless.
All of them were enjoying whatever they were doing. Singing songs, solving an algebra problem, reading Kannada and Hindi, studying history…
A young girl with unseeing eyes read her braille notes with total confidence… “Tippu was called the Tiger of Mysore for his role in beating back the British.”
Another young girl with a hijab around her head smiled to herself in the corner while she was discovering the hidden knowledge on a braille board. She looked up and said “thank you” and “bye” when we wished the class full of students good luck. The little boy with limbs that refused to conform, a mouth that refused to close and eyes that refused to see, refused to stop singing. While the others in the room were joyfully and tunelessly singing sa re ga ma, he went on to sing one shloka after the other.
Another little boy bumped into us as we carelessly walked into his path. He was skipping on shaky feet exploring familiar and unfamiliar surfaces in his search for water. He found the water cooler and quenched his thirst gleefully. He is partially blind and deaf, and communicates through touch and sign language.
Many who grew up and studied here have gone out, have obtained further training and come back as teachers.
A stocky young man glided by contemplating the ground with a sure gait — he is the dance teacher, we were told. A tall one lifted his eyes to see the unseen sky as he walked by with his plate for lunch. He is the computer teacher, we were told.
Coming from homes that could not afford to look after them, they have found not only a home here but also a palpably happy life with themselves and camaraderie with each other.
There seemed no disability here — not only that of the body and mind but also the man-made ones, of religion, caste and class that are tearing apart the world outside.
I took from here the gift of mango and neem leaves that I tied on my threshold and prayed for the ability to embrace all unconditionally.