The Perspective Shift
Updated: 3 days ago
-Asita Ajith
What follows in the upcoming paragraphs is an anecdote about an incident which altogether changed the perception of how I see people with disabilities. Growing up in a small village in Kerala, the community we lived in was a close-knit one, and everyone knew each other. This incident happened two months before my tenth standard board examinations. Our school used to give us mock exams before the main one, which was to take place after the New Year break. The ten-day break went by in a jiffy, and the new year was ushered in with great pomp and splendour in our neighbourhood. However, deep down, the thought of the upcoming mock exam weighed on me. I woke up as usual the next morning, came to the front hall where I used to study in the morning with a hot tea in one hand and my books in the other. Half an hour later, I heard the sound of our house gate being opened. It was 6.30 a.m., and the sun was just coming up. I called for my mother, who was in the other room, to check on the person who was coming inside. He was in rugged clothes with a bag hanging from the side of his left shoulder. I was curious to know why he came to a random house in the wee hours of the morning, since he reminded me of Tagore’s Kabuliwala. I hid behind my mother to listen to what they were saying.
My mother asked him what he wanted, and he gave an answer. I couldn’t quite comprehend the muffled voices of the person standing in our front yard. I gathered some courage and stood beside my mother. It was then that I noticed his cleft lip and wooden prosthetic leg. The realisation of why the voice sounded different dawned on me quickly. The fifteen-year-old girl, unaware of respectful disability language, was quick in commenting about his cleft lip so loudly that he heard what I said, and his face fell silent. My mother gave me a death stare and pinched my shoulder, nudging me to reflect on what I just spouted. She quickly went inside and came back with a fifty-rupee note to give to him. But what happened next shook me to the core, and even today, when I think about it, I feel sunken in despair. He came forward when he was being offered the money, not to take it but to talk to me.
He came near me and first thanked my mother for offering the money, which he politely declined. The words uttered by him were clearly comprehensible to me at this point. He continued, “Do you know what made you talk like that about my appearance?” to which I had no answer. I was filled with remorse when he said—pointing to his wooden prosthetic and cleft lip— “People like me are born like this, with not many options available to us, but what truly makes a difference in our lives is the way we are being seen or treated by others. Kindness costs nothing, and I hope you remember what I said for life.” He left after saying this to me, thanking my mother once again.
This momentary interaction left a deep imprint on my life, shaping my thought process and making me empathetic towards fellow human beings. As an avid reader since childhood, I began including books on disability politics in my reading list, which followed through to my higher studies. The incident changed the trajectory of my life and made me realise that it's not always money that a person wants; sometimes, seemingly little things like a simple smile or kind words can light up a person's life. Fast forward to today, I’m doing my PhD in Disability Studies, engaging with the community, interacting with fellow allies and trying to be a kind human each day. The fifteen-year-old girl would be proud to see the path she has chosen today, and I sincerely hope to meet him again so I can offer a heartfelt apology that's long overdue.
About the Author:
Asita Ajith is a doctoral researcher at the Department of Humanities and Social Sciences, BITS Pilani, Pilani Campus Rajasthan. She has a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree in English Literature. Her areas of interest include the intersections of media, sports and disability in the Indian context. She is also an avid reader who occasionally tries her hand at poetry and flash fiction.
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