I
am just getting used to traveling by the Chennai metro rails. Or any metro
rails for that matter.
We
shifted our house a week ago close to Mambalam and I have learnt that the
easiest and fastest way to commute to office is by the train. By which other
mode of transport can you cover 10 kms in less than 15 minutes, in Chennai?
Moreover
there were no traffic signals. No early morning bargaining on auto fares. A
first class season ticket would cost me a meagre Rs. 320 and I am good to go
for a whole month.
Yet,
I was sulking this morning. It was a morning to get cosy after the heavy
showers. I overslept.
And
was late for work.
As
I de-trained at the Egmore station, cursing the rains, which had turned the
platforms into a dingy, stinking mess – I saw a fellow-passenger.
A
blind man who with the help of his long cane, kept touching the platform every
now and then, was trying to figure out whether the next step was safe. I was
amused.
And
soon, I was following him.
I
wanted to help.
However,
typical of the educated, tech-savvy, value conscious, urban adult I was, I
wanted to make sure he deserved my time and attention.
I
waited to ensure that he was blind indeed.
His
cane went on tapping it’s way into a filthy dustbin and then came out, as if
revolted by the stench.
‘Hmmm…
must definitely be blind then’.
I
wanted to help.
But
then, a website tells me that the train I came in, has the capacity to carry
1580 passengers at a time. So, why me?
As
I was lost deep in thoughts, I saw a good Samaritan help the blind man go up
the stairs. The steep and narrow staircases are a daily nightmare to me in
spite of having a corrected 6 by 6 vision, thanks to my spectacles! However,
the good Samaritan seemed to be in a hurry and left the man half way through.
Meanwhile, the daily conflict between passengers trying to go up and down the
stairs was reaching its climax. People kept pushing or pulling each other as
they held on to their larger-than-life luggage.
I
struggled to keep up.
The
blind man had reached the top of the stairs and climbed on to the bridge, which
connected all the platforms. He continued at a slow pace, tapping away with his
cane. Farther down stood another blind man, begging for his daily alms.
Someone, I was used to seeing and ignoring every day.
The
first blind man was walking right into the latter one, who seemed completely
unaware of the imminent danger. I thought they may collide. So did everyone
else, yet they just walked by.
I
wanted to help.
But,
then the two men somehow knew. They gave a cry of acknowledgment to each other
and the first one stepped to the side. And continued his way ahead.
I
could be a spectator no more. I went ahead and held the man by his shoulder.
And tried to show him the way. He immediately stopped tapping his stick,
trusting me – a complete stranger, to lead.
I
asked him where he was headed to.
‘Anna
Salai. How about you?’
‘Egmore’.
I
kept pressing his shoulder and mumbling to turn left, right, walk straight and
he followed like an obedient student. Suddenly, he offered me his palm and
said,
‘Can
you hold my hand instead?’
The
feminist in me was awakened. Why would he want to hold my hand? Does he want to
feel the softness of my palm and derive some sort of sexual pleasure (is there
any?) from it? Or is he part of some gang which kidnaps, rapes or kills
vulnerable girls like me? Will he drag me into a black mini-van, abduct me and
turn me into a blind beggar myself?
I
shrugged at the thought of it. Yet, I reluctantly offered him my hand.
As
he held on, I noticed that his hands were weak. That hold to him was only an
assurance that I would not let him fall. It told him when to stop and when to
slow down. It told him that I wouldn’t just abandon him half way, but would get
him to where he wanted to go.
‘Where
do I leave you?’
‘Please
take me to the bus stop just outside the station. The bus numbers are 27D and
21A.’
I
guided him out of the station, as amused onlookers stared at us – the unusual
duo.
A
'21A' bus was just pulling out of the bus stop. I desperately waved trying to
tell them that a blind man wanted to board the bus. The driver smirked and sped
away.
I
waited with him, hand-in-hand, until the next bus came in. People swarmed
around the doors, to be the first ones to board and alight. We were lost in the
chaos. I somehow managed to let him get on to the bus and then let go. He was
lost into the crowd of passengers.
No
words were exchanged.
And
I walked on.
I
did not feel bad though.
The
blind man had no privileges.
For,
we all live in a blind world.
