The hues of my life....

"Life is like a rainbow.....you need both the sun and rain to make its colours appear."

- Anon

It was a cold and dismal day, the continuous rain making it even worse. Days like this remind me of our judicious (??) decision to move interstate where the Victorian weather is as finicky and unpredictable as my moods. After a long day at work, especially being on my feet and the monotony of the work hardly offering any respite to my unwelcome train of thoughts, I was glad to be out of the workplace. Thankful that the rain had finally eased, I get into my car hastily turning on the car-heater on full blast. As I drive past the gates, still struggling to shed off my gloomy thoughts, I look up at the sky to see the most beautiful sight. Rainbows are still capable of producing that wonderful jolt in my system and this particular one, a huge complete semicircle of vibrant hues was a top contender for the most perfect one I had seen in years.

Almost close to breaking the speed limits, I rush to pick up Mugil hoping that the rainbow would last till he gets to see it as well. Perhaps something to cheer him up while he misses his sister who is away spending her school holidays with her cousins. I pick him up and drive nearby to an open field and park the car and show him the plethora of colours in its resplendent glory. I watch him, at a loss for his usual babble, awe-struck at the beauty and we both spend a few minutes of silence while the liquid sunshine bathes us with its feeble setting rays.

Inevitably, as if I could already foresee what his next words would be, he asks if we can climb the rainbow and see what is beyond it. Of course, the child within me rushes to answer him with the fairy tale of the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. But I bite down the garrulous flow that threatens to spill out of me and wonder how to explain the phenomenon of rainbows in simple words to a kid who strives so hard to be on equal footing with his sibling despite their differences in age towards understanding the mysteries of science and nature.

At around the same time my mind wanders to the biblical explanation of the rainbow. It symbolises the Lord's promise to mankind and a sign of the covenant that God would never flood the earth again. I let my imagination run wild and can almost visualise pictures of Noah's ark tossed by the tempests of the flood and in the end, the majestic rainbow, bringing promises of new land and new life. How many of us wait for one such rainbow to materialise in our own lives - with no signs of the storms abating, left adrift in a rudderless raft tossed by the tempests of life, with no shores materialising on the horizon, perhaps we too wait for one such divine sign to be the harbinger of glad tidings and hope.

With all these thoughts clashing within me, I proceed, rather contritely to give a watered down version of dispersion and refraction from the rudimentary physics lessons of ages ago. I watch him trying to understand my words as I strip the magic of the rainbow and present it to him without any trimmings. As he tries to pronounce "refraction", I hear the uncorrected lisp, a harsh reminder of the time I had been away from him. He giggles at his own attempts, his tiny face, a miniature version of my own unflattering features transformed with that heartwarming smile of his - the sight sure did warm the cockles of my heart. Was I searching for my own rainbow when I had the pot of gold beside me the whole time??

The glint of his smile, my own unshed tears.......perhaps Mugil and I have created our own rainbow, who knows.......the glimmer of a faint hope and smile touches me while I try to take strength from the hues of my life !!!!

The New Beckham kid !!!!

“Some people think football is a matter of life and death. I assure you, it's much more serious than that.”

- Bill Shankley

When I saw the school weekly magazine advertising sports practice for all graders (after school hours), I was quite elated. Apart from gaining a few more hours of respite from nagging kids, I was also happy that my offspring cast in the same mould as her couch-potato mum would really benefit from a bit of intense action. Both Anna and I made up the crowd of spectators at any sport right from our own school days - him given his rather dense myopic eyes and I being the only child of overprotective parents. Frankly said, most days I believed my shadow was made up of three figures - I could not even compete in 50m races without their chants of "be careful baby", "don't trip", blah blah so much so that I considered physical education to be more mentally stressing than physically exhaustive :)

So right from the day Madhu started school, I was intent on getting her started in some kind of sports but never got around to doing it given my own absence from home and other zillion things to take care of. Like most of my plans with respect to health and fitness regime, this one too never got to see the daylights. So it was indeed a blessing to see that the school had organised sports sessions and that too free ones ( as part of the state's student health awareness programs) for their students.

I signed her up for football and netball and the day I take her to the football session, I see only two girls (including Madhu) at the turnout. With slight apprehension gnawing at me seeing several boys milling around, I hastily look around for their sports instructor for some reassurance. To the contrary, I see him chuckling at the girls and asking me "so your girl wants to play football?" I then confess quickly saying she wasn't too keen but that I would like her to have a try at the game. I then leave the playground to come and pick her up an hour and a half later.

Later, I sense a slight prickling of guilt when I see her dejected form at the gates and her rather sullen reply that she was finding it hard to kick the ball. As we enter the garage, I tell her that I will buy her a football and we will take it from there. She then rushes inside the house, rummages some boxes in her closet and I hear her crowing winningly "we already have it". I peek into the room to find her brandishing a rugby ball and look at her questioningly as I was expecting to see the familiar spherical shaped ball. She answers quite laconically "the football" and then realisation dawns on my rather embarassed face.

Having grown up in a country that always labelled soccer as football, I was having daydreams of my girl becoming the new Beckham kid in the block. Little did I realise my adopted country with all its terminology reversed, had me sending my very feminine looking and delicate Barbie girl to Australian football, fondly called "footy". Not that soccer would have been any better but footy was very much a contact sport and no wonder the instructor was having a chuckle behind my back when Madhu turned up at the session with an equally sports ignoramus for a mother :(

I look at her sheepishly and tell her I thought it was soccer that she was playing - she then explains the game to me and though I wonder why the name football for a game that uses all parts of the body to pass the ball around, I keep my musings to myself lest she gets annoyed at any interruptions from me. Later that weekend I narrate the incident to some of our Aussie friends and despite their attempts to explain the game to us and the difference between its close-cousins rugby and soccer, Anna and I, with eyes glazing over, ruefully shake her heads and give up on understanding Aussie sports.

Meanwhile my daughter still continues to plod in her footy sessions and despite being her mother in most games happily standing at the bleachers than actually playing, she sometimes comes home excitedly chattering about the kicks she had done or the wins she helped her team achieve. I look at this very sensitive and dainty girl who has started enjoying her footy sessions and could not but help feel proud when she recounts incidents where she had grudgingly won the admiration of her fellow players. I feel an overwhelming sense of achievement knowing that I have gotten her started into sports, something that I never managed to do for myself.

Sometimes as parents, we do tend to live our dreams through our kids. Though I know from my own experiences, the enormous pressure it places on the kids, in this instance I am willing to make a concession for myself knowing that I am making the right decision by getting her interested in sports. If nothing, atleast decades down the track, she won't be blaming us in her blogs, fair enough :)

Gym write-offs :))

"The word 'aerobics' came about when the gym instructors got together and said: If we're going to charge $10 an hour, we can't call it Jumping up and down."

- Rita Rudner

- “So how much is it for the membership?”

I wait for a figure…..er, a numerical one in this case that would cause my innards to shrink notably.

-"33.50$ for a fortnight”

- “Really? Whereas it is 12.50$ for one visit??”

- “Yes”

I should have wondered what the catch was but then I rushed in as the proverbial quote “Fools rush in…”. Even for someone with very little mental agility when it comes to calculations, I do the math and figure out the membership would work out better if I were to make two visits a week to the sacred site.

- “So do you have any cancellation fees?”

- “Nope, just 14 days notice.”

Boredom is starting to set in the tones of the junior serving me…..perhaps at least here, I should have stopped and asked myself twice……but no, I was too taken in by Dame Providence and also anxious that the 17 year old might hike up the prices if I keep pushing her buttons of ennui.

- “Allright, I will take the membership, you are sure about the fees right?”

The teen just catches herself in time from doing an eye-roll and gives me a grimace which I interpret as a polite smile and am sure if DaVinci had been around, he would have made billions titling it the “Mona Lisa – II” or perhaps better “The Return of the Jaconda”.

I hurriedly fill the application form and sign my long scrawl with a flourish. The girl fills in the amount and then slowly enunciates the figure for my benefit.

- “75$ for a one-off admin deposit along with the fortnightly deduction – total amount comes around to 120$”

As I am still digesting the news of the 75$ sprung upon me, I dont fully understand the extra 11.50$ she has tacked on – perhaps fleecing me for the indubitable service she had provided.

I try to summon the right dosage of anger, but incredulity is still reigning high in my voice :

- “Should you not be telling me about these fees before I signed the registration form?”

- “Yeah I should have, I am sorry – are you still interested in the membership?”

I am starting to palpitate, even without stepping into my bodypump classes that are due to start any minute. I eye at the clock and the girl at the reception – I know I am going to regret the new few minutes of my life where I go against my common sense and my financial radar and with an imperceptible nod of my head, wilfully become the sacrificial goat at the reception of the town’s (perhaps sole) fitness club. I enter into the classes, the enthusiasm that I had a few minutes earlier all dissipated and in its place a sour aftertaste left by the monetary transaction.

An hour passes by quickly and though less enthralled by the audio tracks for the bodypump routine, I am not disappointed by the class and am hoping to frequent these sessions more in the future. With a pounding heart and quaking legs, not all as a consequence of the rigorous drill that I had subjected myself to, I drive home. No sooner had I entered the house, did I bemoan my gullible nature and render my narration with the right amount of indignant anger and histrionics to Anna, my better half (literally in all matters, especially fiscal) and the financial comptroller of the family. Contrary to my hopes, I fail to evoke any sympathy in my audience……..the end result, temperature within the house falls further by a few more degrees despite the double heating provided by the reverse cycle air conditioner and the fan-heater propped next to me.

Blessed with a metabolism that even His Maker would envy and a bevy of friends willing to play badminton almost every day of the week, Anna does not understand my need to bequeath a substantial amount of money every once in a while on gym memberships. By far, Anna is the most unconventional and broad-minded Indian husband I have seen amongst my circle of friends, with a healthy respect for his equal, despite my exasperating and futile attempts at maturity. However, given my past history with fitness programs and sporadic visits to gyms, Anna is of the opinion that the only toning that these expenses have sustained are that of our bank balance L He firmly believes that any weight loss that I might have gained is more out of guilt with all the money I throw away on these sessions rather than attending them.

A few years ago, I would have bristled at the slightest excuse despite the validity of his accusations but lately I have been seeing the error of my ways and so I rather dejectedly but solemnly give him my word that I really would see this membership through. I have always been a couch potato, never one for stringent exercises or fitness regimes, but lately I realise I am not getting any younger and hence the serious and much-needed closer look at my health. Given that my food intake has reduced quite drastically lately and I am reaching emaciated standards (according to my family), I am resorting to rather painful attempts to incite my hunger pangs. Hopefully my exertions might pay off but still that has not stopped my family from wagering against my gym visits J

Anyone else wanna place a bet on my fitness expeditions ?????

PS: It has been three days since my last gym visit as I am still crawling around like the house like an octogenarian painfully aware of every muscle in my bodyL

I, the living.......

"When you see a man casting pearls without getting even a pork chop in return--it is not against the swine that you feel indignation. It is against the man who valued his pearls so little that he was willing to fling them into the muck and to let them become the occasion for a whole concert of grunting."

-Ayn Rand

I discovered Ayn Rand when I was 19 - does seem like centuries ago now :) Perhaps too late to discover a good author, but still way too early to read her books I guess. There are people who swear by her books, her principles, especially her philosophy of "Objectivism" which rapidly gained a lot of momentum and publicity....er, perhaps the latter laced quite liberally with negative criticism and censure. Despite everything, her books are widely read and even claimed to be most influential, second only to the Bible. In layman terms, she stands for individual rights and freedom, any form of collectivism is hugely frowned upon by her.

A few days ago, I wrote one of her quotes as my Facebook status message and this brought a lot of comments from two of my buddies who had read her as well. Like most philosophical works, Rand is not an easy read and I sometimes wonder I perhaps keep revisiting her books more out of a lack of total understanding of her philosophy than for her appeal as a writer. In all my 35 years of life, I have come across only handful of people in my circle who have read her and have been in a position to debate about her. Lately I avoid being caught in such arguments, as I realise the blinkers that I always wore for her writings are slowly coming off and I am unable to concede fully with the absolutism of her philosophy. Perhaps, in moments of self-awareness, in those rare moments when I can afford to be candid to myself, I am aware of my own limitations and recognising my own failures in living up to her principles.

As a child and into my teens, I used to be one of those people who would merely comment at the injustice of a system but would hide in the shadows waiting for someone else to take the lead. Perhaps this is where Rand exorcised me out of my fears. I soon saw myself growing into this non-conformist person with the least regard for rules or dogma of the society - in fact I have always been known to be a rule-breaker, a rebel in trying to adhere to what I believed in. I make compromises mostly not out of reverence for the rules but perhaps for the one enforcing it, given my own admiration or belief in the individual or the collective group that enforces it.

One Randian principle I always lived by atleast till recently, was that I do not use people for my own selfish gains. I believed I earned what people chose to bestow me with. I have come across people who exploited others for their own selfish interests and I swore never to be one of those. Likewise when I gave I always measured it based on their worth, the generosity of my own gift was a tribute to the person. Despite the precautions, despite the integrity of my emotions, as with people who are equipped only with half-truths, lately I have been portrayed as a highly manipulative person by people who chose to hide their own indiscretions behind a cloak of morality. But perhaps there is never smoke without fire.

If I had been less critical of myself, I would have swept all these comments under the carpet and proceeded on writing a post on my daughter's newly acquired football skills. But here I am, unable to digest the defamation of the only principle I ever lived by..... so I ask myself have I slackened with respect to what I wanted from people around me? Have I laid "claim" to what I believed people owed me because of what I gave them or am I in reality, a second-hander, "who could not exist except as a leech on the souls of others"? The only conclusion I arrived was perhaps I gave too much given my poor judgement with respect to people. Alas, what are the use of principles if you basically lack good judgement :)

So there I am trying to find my way in the darkness and perhaps a way of extricating myself out of the mess I find myself in. Perhaps as a first step I can start by saying I will not accept any scraps if the altruism is forced. If I take pride in being a free-thinking person, then I better start behaving as one, respecting not just my freedom but others as well.

"I take the only desire one can really permit oneself. Freedom, Alvah, freedom."
"You call that freedom?"
"To ask nothing. To expect nothing. To depend on nothing."

A special thanks to my Randian friends for renewing my interest in her philosophy - it cannot come at a better time in my life than now.

The celestial forecast.....

“If the people were a little more ignorant, astrology would flourish - if a little more enlightened, religion would perish”

-Robert Green Ingersoll

My mother used to dabble in astrology while I was a kid. There is no doubt that the Indian society is truly well under the influence of this branch of science (if I might brave the cynical laughter of my so-called scientist husband, Anna), however I never understood what sparked her interest in this particular field. It would have been easier to comprehend if she had spent her money on knowing her own fortune but instead I used to find books strewn around and she engaged in demystifying the celestial complexities or deciphering their impact on one’s destiny. Besides, this was before the publishing success of "anything for dummies" age, so I indeed pitied her for subjecting herself voluntarily to the tyranny of such a complex field.

She started off by holding court in family gatherings, marriages, but very soon I found neighbours flocking to our house for her parlour tricks. Well, I could never have said this directly to her face…..er anxious of being deprived of our next meal, my dad and I used to snigger behind her back treating it as our own private joke. It was hard to figure out if her predictions came true, but perhaps being a shrewd and smart woman, she probably had her bases covered quite well, so she always had people coming back for more (or perhaps she always read for free :)). I would have supported her probably if she had extended her kindness in reading my fortune but perhaps out of her deep-rooted fears in prophesying the future of her progeny, I was always left out of the loop. Perhaps, call it the "these grapes are sour" syndrome or my own scepticism at this divining art, I soon lost interest in her pursuits and hoped her own interests will fizzle out once she gets caught up in her yen for something else. Does anyone wonder where I got my own restlessness from J

However, to my immense surprise, after I had got married and moved away, I found that she indeed took astrology quite seriously and soon attended courses and became a registered astrologist. I was indeed impressed for someone with very little formal education, she persevered and mastered this art, given its basis for some serious computation. Contrary to her old behaviour, perhaps fuelled by her new found confidence and infallible credentials, I now discovered she was more forthcoming when it came to me. My mother was on a roll here especially when it came to forecasting my future.

To my dismay, I have been finding out her predictions are taking place but sadly with a reciprocal effect. The day she says I will have a brilliant presentation, I find despite my natural skills at excelling in presentations, I fumble and make a very dismal show. A reunion with a long-lost friend almost ends up in a falling-out and silent treatment from a beloved mate; tidings of good news turns out to be a rejection letter from a job that I was almost sure to land with. Last September, towards the last week, she predicted I will be entering a period of emotional well-being and peace and I found quite to the contrary, I hit a big bout of depression and the period can truly be remembered as one of the worst periods of trauma I had encountered in all my 34 yrs of my life. To cap it all, she now has declared within the next few days, my stars will indeed shift position and I am going to be flooded with job offers. I hastily bite a retort, grit my teeth and attempt a dry run at humour telling her the only way I can be employed in this town is if I start my own business.

Sometimes, given the bleak and dull routine my days seems to take lately and no trace of immediate hope in the horizon, I am tempted to dwell on her prophecies and would like to take comfort in knowing if Lady Luck will indeed bestow her kindness on me. But then reality kicks in and I know if anything is going to help me during these dark moments of my life, it is indeed my own self-confidence and the support I am going to garner from my family and friends – and not some haphazard course of the stars. Oh yeah, somewhere all the academic qualifications with outstanding results (that I have collected over the years), my professional experience and my own go-getter personality ought to get a mention......anyway the truth is I make my own destiny.

Meanwhile I still humour my mother and listen to her celestial banter cheerfully, relieved that with her heavenly support system in place, she does not need me to offer her empty words of solace; my own feeble attempts at flippancy and light heartedness in maintaining the mask of well-being and normalcy, atleast where she is concerned, is already stretched beyond limits. Atleast I make her day even if her stars dont make mine :)

Mothers, are they???

"Simply having children does not make mothers."

-Anon

It was a lovely summer evening in Milan (Italy) and I was out enjoying a leisurely walk with a friend. We had just finished having an aperitivo (one of those lovely Italian "happy hour" customs where u pay for a drink and hit the all-you-can-eat buffet) and were walking along the street having a gelato. One of the nicest things about Italy (and most of Europe I believe) is that you can step out of your room, walk a few paces and be enveloped in something to delight your senses.....on this particular day, there was a band playing music and some people dancing in what seemed to be a street square.

While we stood there rooted to the spot, my attention was diverted by this little girl who appeared to be begging. Well, for someone like me given my roots, seeing little kids beg on the street was nothing new, but this was Italy and even though there were plenty of people busking around, I have hardly seen people approach you directly for money. Besides, the little girl did not have a needy look about her, she was indeed a cherub, 6 or 7 yrs old, dressed in a plain but clean frock.......rosy cheeks and a tiny body that still boasted of childish chubbiness.

I soon lost track of her as we continued walking down a few streets but while we were sitting down, waiting for a bus, I saw the little girl again. This time she was hurriedly eating a gelato and trailing behind a lady who was in a terrific temper.....it was clearly evident that the lady was very angry with the child. She stopped and yelled at the child in a language I could not decipher and the child scampered away and I could see her approaching few strangers seated on the other side and again ask them for money. The lady, whom I assume was the mother, given the compelling resemblance, was also standing and watching her. The little girl would turn back, her attention diverted from the dripping gelato, look at the mother and approach another stranger and do the begging act all over again.

It tore my heart practically - I am a mother too, I had left behind two kids back home but was able to relax here in a foreign land, rest at peace confident that they were in very good hands. But here was another kid, practically my daughter's age, forced to solicit complete strangers for money. My friend and I were completely at a loss, not understanding what was happening before us. Was it a one-off incident (as the child looked quite well-tended), perhaps the mother was forcing the child to get busfare? Was the gelato in the child's hands, a gift of love from the mother or just a bribe in getting her to do what the mother wanted? Were we too quick to jump to conclusions not knowing what was the story behind this lady or the child? Not that it would have been acceptable if the girl was put to begging by someone other than the mother, but still a tiny part of me, that believed "bad mother" was an oxymoron, wished that the lady was not the mother.

That night when I called my daughter to speak to her, my heart reached out to this unknown little girl and hoped and prayed fervently to whatever saint that watches over such little kids, that her innocence and childhood would not be ripped out of her prematurely before she reached her adult years.

A couple of days ago, I read that a 41 yr old Tasmanian woman has pimped her 12 yr old daughter to help her drug habits. The mother was a child abuse victim herself, so it is highly probable that the sanctity of the human body is lost to her and perhaps she views sex as nothing but a tool of manipulation or a means of getting money. But still as an abused child herself, the mother should have understood what it means to lose one's innocence at such a tender age. While there are protective and concerned mothers out there unintentionally losing their daughters to such preying monsters, here was a mother who chose to shower on her offspring, what she had endured as a child herself.

What is it that makes some mothers protect their off-springs at any cost and others to preserve themselves at the cost of their children? I see greed, avarice, addictions, societal pressure (I am still reeling in shock over the alleged involvement of the mother in the honour-killing of Nirupama Pathak's case) and in some genuine cases, poverty pushing mothers to play a role that most of us find it not just hard to fathom but given our protective and nurtured upbringing hard to digest as well. What pushes these mothers over the edge; what makes them cross over? Are the rest of us, passing judgement on these women truly different from them or do we (regardless of what culture or upbringing we might have had) have the seed of such perversity dormant in us waiting for an inopportune or weak moment to manifest in ourselves?

It is indeed sad that when people around the whole world are celebrating Mother's day in honour of motherhood, glorifying the traits of mothers and paying tributes to them, some kids will never be able to look upon this day as such. Childhood is such a precious gift and when kids are made to outgrow this early through no fault of theirs and especially by the mothers who are meant to cherish and protect them - what can I say, it is indeed a shameful and pitiable world that we live in.

PS: I do realise the content of my blogs are getting heavier and heavier (and lengthier too:)) by every post......in all likelihood, it is turning out to be a community-watch :) I apologize but sometimes the happenings in the society do influence me greatly and hence my writings too......we do not live in an insular world unfortunately !!!!

Children of a lesser God???

"The message I'll share...is that inclusion is extremely important for kids with and without disabilities."
- Clay Aiken

A week ago, one of my friends had a facebook status about children with special needs and how people need to understand and accept them. Her status triggered a memory within me and even if it was not totally related to her message, it still showed how people, even someone like me who is quite passionate about such causes can easily make mistakes.

During one of my school runs when I was still living in Brisbane, I noticed this little kid stumble and fall in front of me. Despite my immediate urge to pick him up and comfort him, I had to follow the norms of the society that I was living in and approached the little kid and asked him if he needed any help. He shrank back from me and replied in a very curt little tone "No thanks". I was not put off by his behaviour, indeed I was amazed that his parents had instilled in him a strong awareness of strangers - something that I never managed to do with both of my kids. I noticed his mother standing a few yards away - she neither called out to him, nor reached out to him when he stumbled. She was standing with a fixed smile on her face - as I walked past her, I looked at her and told her quite appreciatively that her son was indeed doing great with strangers. She merely looked away - and now that I found quite strange and quite snubbed by her action as most mothers with kids going to the same school share an air of comraderie. Most of us even if we have not met before would have a smile or a wave to share when we look directly into people's faces. I hastily shrugged away the incident, especially not allowing the sour aftertaste spoil the day for me.

Two days later, I spotted the mother at the school office and then I quickly realised why she ignored me the other day. She was in fact miming to the admin lady. She was mute and what I mistook for her snobbery was merely her armour in shielding her limitation from strangers. She probably did not want attention in the form of condescending pity or embarassed politeness when people came to know of her affliction. For a minute, I stood there in deep regret and was indeed kicking myself for hastily jumping to conclusions about people, especially strangers I hardly know.

Around the same time, I watched a movie from the 80's "Children of a lesser God" - quite a touching tale about the relationship between a speech teacher and a hearing impaired ex-pupil of the school (had to grudgingly admit William Hurt into the ranks of Liam Neeson, atleast in my opinion). It was not the movie with its stellar cast or scintillating performances that captured my attention, nor the fact that the leading lady (the youngest female Academy winner, think the record still holds good) was deaf in real life as well or this movie had strong echoes of the tamil movie "Mozhie" but it was indeed the title that got me thinking.

"Children of a lesser God" - perhaps this is indeed how the society treats people with special needs. But who are the society? Is it not people just like you and me and are we guilty of this accusation? Perhaps we are......maybe as parents, have we not cringed visibly when we come across mentally handicapped children worried that something might trigger off the excitement in these kids causing them to act agitatedly and disturb our own kids? In all honesty, despite our sympathies and true feelings towards such kids and adults, do we not prefer to overlook them so we feel less guilty - perhaps similar to survivor syndrome for better comparison. Even in countries where governments and communities do their best to cater for such kids and adults, there is indeed a stigma in the society, preconceived notions when it comes to them. They have somehow unwittingly been relegated to the position of second class citizens in any society.

Having said this, I have to admit I once confused a blind person in the name of offering help and stuffed up his internal sense of radar. Now I think twice before helping (or unwittingly hindering) people in such situations. So is it really our lack of concern for such people - or truly our lack of awareness in learning how to behave towards them or treat them? Could our own limitations towards understanding what is required, our own fears of invoking anxiety or perhaps further difficulties in such people be misconstrued as indifference or unacceptance. I am perhaps playing the devil's advocate here - but there is definitely another side to the coin that offers compelling evidence which cannot be overlooked.

I see in small communities, especially like the ones I live, that several programmes are in place to incorporate such kids and adults with special needs into the society. Perhaps all we need to do is shed our inhibitions and fears and accept them as they are meant to be - equals in our own eyes and that of His.