During my visit to an exam center a week ago, an event left me thinking about my life and things I take for granted.
While waiting for the bus at the stop, I saw a man sitting a few feet away from me, waiting uneasily. I didn’t notice it at first, but when I forced myself to take a serious look, I was left numb. He was a blind man. He must be in his late 30s. Before I came to the bus stop, he had somehow recruited two small kids who I am guessing study at the school behind the stop.
The kids were on the lookout to stop any incoming buses for the man. Below is everything that happened to the best of my memory.
The man: “What is this lying here on the side?”
The kids: “They are clothes. Somebody’s clothes.”
“Oh, these are clothes.”
“Yes, they are.”
“Is a bus coming?”
“No, not yet. We are watching, sit tight.”
“Is this a new bus stop they have constructed?”
“Yes, this a new bus stop.”
“This one is so much better than the one on the other side of the road.” (There’s no bus stop on the other side of the road, people have to wait standing on the sides.)
“A bus is coming.”
The man stands up and walks a little ahead in anticipation of the arrival of a bus.
“It’s coming?”
“No, it’s still a little far away. You sit down, we will call out when it arrives.”
The man walks back, and gently takes the seat again, still uneasy waiting for the bus.
A blue color local bus arrived but it was filled to the brim. The kids intelligently recognized that the man would not be able to find a comfortable seat on this one and they couldn’t trust a local bus to drop the man safely to his destination. The man recognizes that a bus has arrived and stands up and walks to the edge of the stop waiting for the kids to help him board it.
“The bus has come?”
“It’s the blue one. Not the red.”
“So it’s a blue one.”
The man walks back and takes the seat again.
The kids move back and forth from side to side, looking for a bus. And they spot one. This time a red colored bus licensed by the state with a defined route.
“A red bus is coming.”
The man stands up confidently this time and walks to the edge of the stop. The bus had seats available and I boarded it. The kids, walk over to the front of the bus to ask the driver if the bus will go to the stop the man wants to go. They run back and ask the conductor of the bus to help the man board the bus and drop him at the destination. He helps the man board the bus and the kids move back as the bus starts moving. The man is unsure where the empty seats are and stands in the middle perhaps hoping somebody would direct him. The conductor helps him sit beside me on the right side of the bus.
After a few minutes, the conductor walks over and asks me for the ticket. I tell him my destination and give him the cash. He gives back the change with my ticket. However, he then moves forward without asking the man for his ticket.
My stop arrived in about 15 minutes. Before the bus stopped, I stood up and gently asked the man to provide me some leg space so I could move out (I was in the window seat). He complied and after a small struggle asking people to move out of the way to the door, I deboarded the bus.
From there, I took an electric rickshaw to my center, took my exam, and went back home. Back to normality.
I don’t know the specific reason why I can’t forget about this particular set of events on a pretty normal day. The moment I got off the bus, I wanted to write about it. Put my thoughts into words. Why does it seem to impact me much?
After that first serious look at the man, I could only gather enough willpower to look at him directly one more time while he was beside me on the bus. His eyes were shut and I couldn’t seem to determine if the eyelids were sewn together or if the man had a completely different set of eyelids I had never seen before.
The man never once made me uncomfortable. There’s no reason. But I felt an immense feeling of guilt take over me for the entire journey.
Why did I never once try to talk to him?
Why did I simply walk past him and board the bus when I knew he was going in the same direction?
How confident was I in the abilities of the kids he had somehow recruited?
Perhaps I was taken over by whatever I was looking at and wanted it to unfold without interfering.
I instantly thanked god for having enough grace and mercy that I have eyesight with which I can not only enjoy the existence of the living but also aid me in fulfilling the menial tasks I take for granted. I cannot fathom the level of struggle the man has to go through daily just to get himself in a position where he fully feels safe and confident that he has done things right.
I don’t know the names or the grades of the kids who helped the man. But those kids are exactly the kind we need more. Empathetic and determined. Intelligent in their actions. The bus conductor who helped the man on the bus doesn’t earn much. Probably just enough to feed his family. Yet he never asked for the ticket. He knew what he had to do and went by it. Empathetic and intelligent.
I wonder how often when people like me come into contact with the handicapped, they drop their usual attitude and try to be nice and helpful. It was beautiful to see. I have never said ‘god bless’ more times than I did in those 40 mins. I hope the man got off where he wanted to and reached his destination safely.
Maybe if we all start to be more empathetic towards one another, we can get meaningful things done and create a better society where everybody feels safe. Next time something like this happens, rather than going numb, I will try to be steadfast in what I am supposed to do.
Lesson learned.
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