alone?
This is no travelogue-just a tail piece.
A simple walk with a person with a mental disability can however have many factors of a planned, unplanned or emergency travel.
This part of Chennai has nothing to claim its ‘suburbanity’. Narrow roads, overflowing traffic, of course no pavements to walk….but walk we must, even bathed in pollution, to keep good health.
My son is 30. He has phobias. A hand on my shoulder can indicate that he is nervous. A tug at my blouse is a warning, a pull can be disastrous…
And so bravely we plod along each evening at exactly the same time, to exactly the same destination, passing the same shops, the same vendors and the same beggars. My son is more phobic of the stray dogs than of the huge buses or trucks which brush past us. To live in harmony with traffic is my new mantra. Just ignore the repeated honking, the non-stop highway whirr, don’t look at the vehicles, breathe in the fumes as if they are the purest mountain air…this stretch of road, including the narrow railed pedestrian ‘promenade’ on the Adyar river bridge, has something like walking space-which also doubles up as talking space for many. Some of the ‘cant care less’ citizens who conference on the road move a bit when they see us; others get a piece of my mind. I must look out for cables lying loose, roadside cooking, stones of all sizes and slush…as I hurriedly catch an appreciative glance of the sunset over the sad looking, depleted Adyar river, a motorbike lunges right in our direction, against the traffic rules.
I carry a small notepad with my name and address and telephone number in case of an emergency. What if I suddenly fell off the bridge? The fat woman selling vadas smiles tentatively. Can she read? A skinny mongrel limps out from nowhere and settles down to scratch. and I feel a nervous tug…
“the whole world is there with you and me, don’t worry” I reassure my son.
A simple walk with a person with a mental disability can however have many factors of a planned, unplanned or emergency travel.
This part of Chennai has nothing to claim its ‘suburbanity’. Narrow roads, overflowing traffic, of course no pavements to walk….but walk we must, even bathed in pollution, to keep good health.
My son is 30. He has phobias. A hand on my shoulder can indicate that he is nervous. A tug at my blouse is a warning, a pull can be disastrous…
And so bravely we plod along each evening at exactly the same time, to exactly the same destination, passing the same shops, the same vendors and the same beggars. My son is more phobic of the stray dogs than of the huge buses or trucks which brush past us. To live in harmony with traffic is my new mantra. Just ignore the repeated honking, the non-stop highway whirr, don’t look at the vehicles, breathe in the fumes as if they are the purest mountain air…this stretch of road, including the narrow railed pedestrian ‘promenade’ on the Adyar river bridge, has something like walking space-which also doubles up as talking space for many. Some of the ‘cant care less’ citizens who conference on the road move a bit when they see us; others get a piece of my mind. I must look out for cables lying loose, roadside cooking, stones of all sizes and slush…as I hurriedly catch an appreciative glance of the sunset over the sad looking, depleted Adyar river, a motorbike lunges right in our direction, against the traffic rules.
I carry a small notepad with my name and address and telephone number in case of an emergency. What if I suddenly fell off the bridge? The fat woman selling vadas smiles tentatively. Can she read? A skinny mongrel limps out from nowhere and settles down to scratch. and I feel a nervous tug…
“the whole world is there with you and me, don’t worry” I reassure my son.
posted by meera @ 10:22 PM
2 Comments:
even if Lord comes to earth - there need a strategy to pull the crowd to him. If your writing need to be get big - you should bring people to you - or you should reach the people i do know what will be your answer to this. how ever.. it is your choice
gskumar1998 (12/5/2006 5:45:11 AM): alone? when I read this I left I was walking along with the mother and the disabled young man....! i felt the pain and yet the courage of the mother.... how Lucidly she notices the folks, animals, traffic on the road and pavement and yet is conscious of her dependent son , his tugs of fear and reassurance........ it was an exeprience whcih i wish not to forget so soon.....thankyou Meera.... though it is painful indeed.....but yet for a spilt of a moment you did make me walk with you.....May God bless you and yours is all I wish to say....Amen
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