The Spark and the Sympathy
Our eyes see hundreds of faces every day, reading stories they tell with their expressions. Handful of these faces and expressions linger in mind. And some, so exceptional, that even after a brief 5 minute encounter, they remain etched in the memory forever. I made one such memory for myself on a hot sultry afternoon in.
I had been afor a year now. Acquainting people across the spectrum during the assignments made me believe that I now had better understanding of the eternal chaos that surrounds us, although I was chaos and confusion personified during those days.
My new assignment was about higher studies for. School for blind students, School for students, School for special children; wherever I went, rhetorical answers, laced with and sympathy, filled the room after the questions started. Pride, accomplishment and achievements of both the students and the teachers were in plenty; but not without an undertone of grief, self-pity and silent sigh.
Thefor Deaf and Dumb students summoned Suresh Bhoyare to her cabin that afternoon so I could interview him. He was one of their brightest students, I was told, outstanding at studies and sports. I smiled at him when he entered the room. He flashed back a big pleasant infectious smile to everyone in the room. I first thought it was out of amusement about being interviewed and felt nice about making this chap happy. But when he started answering the questions, I realized, it wasn’t about this interview or any other superficial reason.
“I wish to earn my diploma from. I will work after my 10th, save some money and then finish my studies. It is my dream. I know I cannot accomplish everything that other kids can. But there are things that I can. And I don’t wish to stop before I achieve all that, I will not,” he said it in a language I did not understand. But I did not need the Principal to translate the to me. Suresh’s face said it all.
There was something about the glow in on his face when he talked about his dreams. Childlike innocence and maturity, enthusiasm and calm, passion and detachment, confidence and fear; I could see everything on his face, but not a trace of self-pity, grief or pessimism. Those expressions and the sheer purity on his face kept me dumbstruck all the while that he spoke. The 14-year-old boy sitting in front of me had made sense out of the eternal chaos long ago. Wisdom kept shining on his face all the while we spoke. One part of me wanted to stay and hear him talk all day, other part wanted to run away as I felt as small as grain in front of him. “I have a class now. Can I leave?” he smiled again after a few minutes and left. I gathered my notes and myself and left too.