Have you ever endured any dreadful incident in your life, which made you feel dismal and decisive? If my estimate is correct, you haven’t experienced it yet. But unlike what you thought, I have withstood that.
A year before I became an author, I was looking for a job in Bangalore. I dwelled in a women’s hostel then. As I am a visually impaired person, I was refused in every interview that I took part in. Although I was sorely confused, I went on to attend daily interviews. I tried everything under the sun, but I couldn’t stop them saying that I was a disabled woman. On one such fine day, I went to an interview held far away. In case I did succeed in that, I would have had a doubt, but as usual, I failed.
I came back to the hostel at night and took a hot bath before I ate. As I felt so sad, I bathed in the nude. I came out of the bathroom, only to see a girl waiting in my room. “I came to have a bath,” she said. “Okay, you can,” I did react. When I searched my plate, the girl came up to me and asked, “Are you on period?”
“Yes, I am,” I said, feeling afraid.
“Then, do come!” she instantly replied. She took me to the toilet. Opening its door, she showed me a drop of blood on the floor. I apologised to her and flushed the water.
“There is another,” said the girl.
“Is it? I can’t see where,” I did mumble.
The moment I searched it in torment, my roommate arrived at the spot and aided me to make it out. What Valluvar said was right after all. This favour done in need was vaster than the world.
My roommate had already told this girl that I was a job seeker. And the girl had assured her that she would talk to the manager. Therefore, the day after, I enquired my roommate what the girl’s answer was.
“No, Reshma. I didn’t get any answer. Instead, she asked me a question,” my roommate said.
“Did she? What was that, Shree?”
“Who would offer a job to the girl who couldn’t even spot her blood drop?”
“Did she ask like this, Shree?”
“Yes, Reshma. I felt very sorry.”
Spilling this out, she went to bed. After hearing it, I didn’t want to sleep, but. You don’t need a sword to cut a heart, but all you need is a harsh word that will slice that. What did chop my heart were the words ‘her blood drop‘. When those words cut it into pieces, tears did splash from my eyes.
You know what? Our heart is the only body part that has white blood in it. Even if science doesn’t evince this, our pains will express this. Saying that tears are spoken by the eyes is like saying that the bulb is a reason for the shine of a torchlight. Yes, just as the torch has a battery in that, so does our body have a heart.
I silently wept under my blanket until I sank it in the water of salt. And at last, I slept, although I didn’t know that I did. When I woke up from bed, I thought that my eyes might have expired. But still, they were alive, whereas I was tired. As I saw my face in the mirror of my cupboard, I realised that it had become red as the drop of blood. Then, I came to sit on my bed again.
When people commented that I couldn’t see a monitor, I didn’t shed even a single drop of tear. But why couldn’t I accept when she said that I couldn’t see my drop of blood? I cried because the words she used were not the words I had already heard. Of course, this experience was entirely different. That was why I cried my eyes out in the night.
Alright, what was the benefit of it? Nothing but pain, wasn’t it? I got up from the bed and took a hot bath in the nude. The entire floor was now cleared out, so were my body and heart. Only after she said what I could not do, I think about what I could. The girl who made me gloom in the bathroom was the one who did compel me to follow my dream.
As we are in the conclusion, I do ask you a question. Even in the word ‘disabled‘, we can find the word ‘abled‘. Is it equitable if we label those people as unable to do all?