The colors of god’s kindness are visible only when reflected against His strictness. As a child, I always complained about his unkindness in not delivering me directly as an adult. My mother tried to convince me that, there was fun in growing up, but I remained doubtful. Attending school was the main reason of my anger against god. My antagonism with the school was a source of amusement for the adults. So when it came to electing between NCC or Guides or Social service. I was to choose social service as it involved the least active participation and less attendance should not be the issue. When the NCC and Guides authorities rejected the students, social service people accepted them. Therefore, when I chose social service as my first choice the teachers gave me curious but welcoming looks. Generally, social service students had to visit an old age home and help the aged with some activity just once or twice in the academic year.
However, that year the teacher gave the students a real feel of social service. The students of social service painted the school compound maintained the school garden and many more activities to my displeasure. The appreciation from the school meant we had more activities on card.
“We are going to picnic with the blind students,” declared the teacher one day.
Everybody was happy because picnic meant fun. Nobody understood the responsibility involved in taking blind students along. The day arose our bus proceeded for the blind school. In the bus, every blind student shared the seat with a normal student.
. We were to get down and take charge of one blind student each. With inhibitions in my mind, I got down.
To be abruptly amid abnormalities is shocking. Deadly looking white colored cornea and frightening odd-looking squints scared me; I held the hand of a girl whose eyes looked normal at least apparently. As if my touch put on her button, she said, “My name is Smita. What is your name?” I replied.
“Don’t worry, I will not harass you,” She assured as if sensing my inhibitions.
Smita kept on asking me about many things I kept on answering her curiosity. Her questions irritated me and I rudely asked her to keep quite. She did not speak to me until we reached our destination. I did not sense any abnormality in her silence.
“Come on, let us get down and why are you so quite “I asked
“Because you asked me to”, Smita replied coolly.
“I was watching the beautiful scenery,” I excused apologetically.
“But I missed it because you did not narrate it to me” said Smita.
“Sorry” I said almost in tears.
However, Smita forgave me readily.
“But you will tell me every thing on our way back” she smilingly said.
We were to climb up a small hillock to reach the top where there was a rest house. The way was rough. I offered to hold Smita’s hand so that she did not fall, but confident Smita chose to walk alone. The cool breeze and beautiful weather gave her confidence. She loitered alone in the open space; I kept a vigil on her. A big boulder sat on her way I shouted, “Watch out the boulder Smita”, but before I could complete she was bleeding, there was a small cut on her fore head.
“If only I could see,” she said smiling.
What was easily possible for me was impossible for her but she had no hard feelings. She taught me what even the best teachers could not.