THIRUVANANTHAPURAM: “O Say what is this thing called Light
Which I must never enjoy”.
So sang the poor blind boy. The above lines struck a chord in the hearts of a few elderly people including mine who chose not to live relaxing in the comfort of their homes. Instead, they decided to try their best to spread light to those unfortunate few born into the world of darkness.
And for the past fifteen years this sprightly group of senior citizens have been regularly visiting the University Government Hostel for Women in the city to help the visually-challenged, which included graduates and post-graduate students. They have been in need of teachers to help them with their daily lessons after college hours.
These students, who had their schooling in government schools for the visually impaired, found to their dismay that the method of teaching in colleges was entirely different.
In school they could use their braille board to take down the notes. But in college the classes, consisted of students, who could see, along with those who could not.
To add to their woes, college teachers are not trained in the use of Braille. All that the students could do was to listen to what was being taught, but they could not take down the lecture notes.
To overcome this handicap, they borrowed the notes from their classmates and brought the books to the hostel. It was here that we came into the picture.
We would read out the notes. The students, with the help of their Braille Board, would take them down for further use, especially during the time of their examinations. But our duty did not end there.
Difficult passages had to be explained and extra notes had to be prepared. We left only after all their doubts were cleared.
The students called us aunties maybe because we are not only teachers, but act as counsellors, too. We help them with their project works, select books from various libraries and provide them with old magazines and periodicals, the pages of which they need in large numbers while using their braille board.
I cannot forget Dhanya, a blind girl, who was doing her MA in English. She was my first student. I helped her with her project work, for which I had to write more than fifty pages and get it spiral-bound for her.
The book she chose for her thesis was ‘Ancient Promises’ by Jaishree Misra. Dhanya had the rare opportunity of meeting her thesis author in person. Her joy knew no bounds as she clasped the author’s hands, her face lighting up with joy.
Dhanya is one of many girls who made me proud. She is at present working in an IT firm at Bangalore.
As teachers we have to be alert once you start your lessons. I remember the first time I entered Dhanya’s room to read to her. The room was in darkness. Without thinking, I said, “Why didn’t you switch on the light?” She stared at me blankly, but then she immediately got up and switched on the light.
I regret to this day my faux pas. After that incident I was particularly careful to avoid repeating such mistakes. But I am afraid it happened again.
I was reading out a poem, ‘The Rainbow’ to Najulla, a BA English student. I started by explaining the seven colours of the rainbow to her little realising that the poor girl could not see.
I took hold of her hand and made her touch each finger asking her to repeat the colours after me in their order. With a little practice she was able to mention the colours in order without making a mistake. As I am not a trained teacher for the blind, it was my presence of mind and the will to make my pupil understand that made me adapt a method of my own.
This love for doing something for the less privileged must have been inherited from my father, the late Dr A S Narayana Pillai, who was in charge of the Rotary School for the Mentally Challenged in the city for many years.
There were times when I used to visit this school with my father. I was once asked to write an article about this school for a popular daily. My father was also the president of the National Federation of the Blind for more than ten years. So, I had the opportunity to visit the inmates of the Association and was amazed to see the skills and dedication with which they crafted beautiful works of art.
It often flashes across my mind as it did to the poet William Wordsworth when he saw rows and rows of golden daffodils dancing in gay abandon, gently caressed by the breeze.
In my student days I have often wondered how a poet could be so thrilled at seeing such a common sight and more so at remembering it later and again as a flashback.
Today, having grown older and wiser I have learnt that certain things in life, however insignificant and simple they may appear to you at that time, can give you immense joy later on in life.
As for now I am solely committed to do whatever I can for these children of a lesser but more loving God.
Padma Surendran
(The writer was the correspondent of ‘Femina’ and a stringer for ‘Eve’s Weekly’)