Swim Your Way To Life!

Caught in the whirlwind of frantic mesmerism, I decided to jump. Into the deep waters from the cliff I had happily climbed - not knowing how to swim. With music running in the back of my mind, its loudness hurting my brain, I tried to speak to myself. But truly unable to hear all the gibberish my lips were mumbling, I closed my eyes and launched myself off the cliff, expecting gravity to do the trick and get me down. Sink me deep into the blues of the ocean so I could never get up from the vastness of the waters into which I would lay engulfed and never see survival again.

But I did. Though my right leg dashed badly against one of those rock forms projecting outside, I survived. Though I lost a lot of blood because of the deep cut that ensued, I lived. Yes, again. I wonder how I managed to come up from within the seas and reach the surface of the waters - the warmth of the afternoon sun caressing the parts of my body seen floating outside. Truly I have no clue. Some things in life cannot be reasoned at all. The occurrence of such incidents solidly reaffirms the belief humankind has in God. Again, and again!

I waved my hands, moved my legs and swam for the first time. I did it well, because logic whispered into my ears that I should follow the current that was hitting the shores. Somehow I reached. It was tiring, took a little longer than the usual. Obviously, I am no Michael Phelps. But when I touched the sand in the shore, I kissed it. Kissed it again. And kept kissing it as long as I could, allowing my face to be thoroughly splashed in the slimy mud and dirt. After a while, the froth from the next strong wave that hit the shore cleansed me whole again. I got up, limped my way back to where I truly belong, to the simmering little things that add meaning and beauty to life, to the voice of the little children, to the burdensome tears of the shelter-less, the poor and the old that weep for comfort and relief, to the cold blanket-less nights and the nomadic run under the scorching sun, to the smiles that are genuine, to the butterflies that swarm around you making music as they flap their light feathers against the wind, to the meauing cats that lovingly scratch themselves against your legs and the barking stray dogs that you befriended with biscuits, to the hunger of the stomach that calms the hunger of the soul, and to my mum, dad and brother in the end.

Speaking For The Disabled!

                               

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around!"

- Leo F Buscaglia

After much pressure, one improperly framed question on disability was hurriedly included into the 2001 census - in the very last moment. It was a given that a considerable chunk of the enumerators did not even ask the question in the households they conducted the survey. According to the data released then, there were 2.19 crore disabled people in the nation - which accounted to 2.1% of the population. However the 11th Five Year Plan admitted that the figure could be anywhere between 5 to 6% of the total population. That certainly is worrisome statistic!

Undoubtedly, it is great news that the nation takes strides in development, but we need to ensure that - in the process - we do not end up creating more and more barriers to the disabled people. Because they comprise one of the poorest and most vulnerable sections of the society. It is no understatement if we mentioned that they are the invisible minority in the policy realm. Reason, budget analysis from 2008-12 reveals that we have spent only 0.09% of our GDP on disability.

We cannot really disregard the strong association between poverty and disability. Various studies confirm the high incidence of preventable diseases causing impairments. There are fundamental issues in relation to how differences are understood and responded to in Indian context, but one cannot overlook the contemporary hard realities of Indian poverty. So it imperatively falls on the State to up the ante in providing proper health care to the poor. It is only when we truly begin to develop deeper appreciation of the context and make efforts to understand individual and collective stories of the pain the disabled people go through everyday, we can open up the moral and political space for effective reforms - rather than putting in place fragmented solutions.

We need a new progressive paradigm to address the matter without any room for neglect or marginalization. We need to work out a framework that would - go beyond charity and acknowledge that disability is a cross-cutting human rights issue. We need a solid setup that screams out loudly for inclusivity which could only be achieved by careful re-structuring of culture, policy and practice - so individual differences are no more seen as problems to be fixed, but as opportunities to enrich harmony and embrace change. The era of being able to muster only a minuscule space in the minds of the policymakers concerning real pressing issues should come to an end - only then would the nation put its money where its mouth is! If we do not seize the opportunity to create an equal and just society, it would be a huge failure for a country that is on its way to become a global leader.

In Search Of The Moon!

The night goes in search of its moon; the moon searches for its sun; the sun doesn't have anything to go searching for, so it looks within to see if it could find those hurting black holes. No respite, so it hangs in there burning bright and brighter - waving its coronal tentacles, trying its best to not derange its demeanor. Quests are necessary, they give meaning to lives lived without taste and vigor. But dear, in this dark rainy night - tell me what has your troubled heart gone in search of?

Why do you always want to build your nest right above those deadly flames of fire? Why is that your thoughts run amok flowing like a flooded river? Just tap your heart gently and ask for yourself! Do you still not know that the reasons you keep feeding your mind to back all your actions are not really the reasons! Oh poor you, I see the precious side of it - how you have the heart of a small child! If only I could understand the search in your eyes, and the mysterious trail of your nomadic mind, I would gladly shoulder you all my life through the thick and thin, the bad and worse. For you are my lifeline, the taproot that holds my life's balance and the dew that could sorcerize every gaping portal of my inner being and then completely burn me down!

But this - I cannot bear! Why do you have to shed tears in the night - when no one notices? Why would you allow grief to grip your soul? Why don't you just rest your head on my lap? Am I not also your mother? Come, let me tell you a sweet story, sing you a lullaby and put you to sleep - so I could find peace - seeing how your eyelids give in to night's gravity and droop, and how your chest gently heaves as you enter your dreams - and thereafter find my sleep too.