The Freedom of Expression

The Freedom of Expression

If you have ever been acquainted with a visually challenged person you will relate to what I am about to write about. For all of us more fortunate than the 7.8 million Indians who live with the challenges of being blind it is difficult to fully grasp the struggles they face on a daily basis. 

My eyes were open to this reality when one of my visually challenged friends who came to Chennai to write an exam asked if I would be his scribe for a bank exam he had to give. My first reaction was, he already has a job why can't he be happy. I was immediately ashamed of the fact that I thought, that while its okay for me to pursue bigger dreams, he should be happy with the fact that he 'at least' has a job. To atone myself I immediately joked and asked him if I should also study for the exam, he was only overjoyed that I had agreed. 

On the day of the exam I needed to locate where he was waiting for me. In general, giving directions to people is not my strongest point and that day I was at a loss of words and thoughts. How do you give directions when you can't give landmarks? how do you explain a building or direction of the road you are standing at? Would it be rude to ask him to pass on the phone to someone else who could help better? I was meeting him after 6 years but I could still remember how fiercely independent he preferred to be back when we were in the university. In the end we managed to find each other just in time for the exam. 

At the exam hall they were three other candidates who were using scribes and were put in one room. The ratio seemed very skewed considering that were around 500 students writing the exam in that building. I was already tired with all the running around and the Chennai heat was getting to me and so I collapsed onto the seat assigned to us little realizing that my friend was waiting for me to direct him to the bench. Once again shame washed over me and the examiner looked at me with a puzzled look wondering why I was not helping my friend out. I realized then that his every move must be a question, am I going in the right direction? is the room filled with a lot of people? when will I sit? where do I sit? what is the other person doing? ...all these questions which our eyes answer for us in seconds are questions they have to constantly ask themselves. 

I immediately helped him and then the grueling exam began. His thoughts kept flowing and I was finding it hard to keep up. I was constantly asking him to slow down, he would quietly smile and  patiently wait for me to signal that I was ready for him to continue. At one point I could see him eloquently making a point on the issue we were writing about and I couldn't keep up, it was almost 6 years since I wrote my last exam and I could see his frustration that he himself couldn't pen down the thoughts his mind was pouring out. In one of the many breaks we were taking, as he once again thanked me for being his scribe, I understood that it must be frustrating to accept support and always be grateful, even poor quality support like mine. He had to be nice no matter what, even if he tried his level best to be independent he at no point could be truly independent, the thought saddened me. I immediately prayed that God would give me the strength to write faster. 

Two hours into the exam I had begun to wear out and I was tempted one too many times to skip a line or two of what he was saying. I was constantly chiding myself for entertaining the thought and then it finally dawned on me, here was this man who was hoping that I would help in achieving his dreams and I was thinking what he doesn't know wouldn't hurt him. How many people in every moment of his life would have openly cheated him? how many would have sneered at him not bothering to hide their reactions knowing he wouldn't know? how many people would have happily stole glances at each other or shared their thoughts through expressions and gestures right in front of his face without him being part of the moment? With every passing hour I was more and more grateful for that day, it may be realized that I was also no different from the others. The only way I could make up for it if I wrote faster and so we went on for another two hours. 

For every moment of his dependency I decided to write two extra words for every time he hopefully asked me if we had done well, I prayed that he would get through the exam. After seven hours of writing my hand was numb but my spirit elevated that I had been part of someone else dream. At the end of the day as we waited for his brother to come and pick him he made a comment, "Debbu, we were the only ones in the room and that was so convenient we could discuss openly", the now familiar guilt was about to take over. I should have been more vocal and described the hall to him. I stopped myself from correcting him as I realized one thing, the same eyes that give us the ability to measure our surroundings and make fast decisions also restrains us from being open.

As I said bye to him and was riding my scooter I asked myself, if my friend knew the number of people sitting in the room would he have been so passionate with his thoughts? would he have constantly tried to lower his voice and refrain from expressing the ideas and points he needed to convey to me? As with many other realizations that day there was one happy thought that brought a smile to me, our eyes stop us from liberating our thoughts, it chains our actions and makes us think twice as we try to sum up the situation. For my friend he walks bravely into life without a care because though he cant see many of our reactions, it doesn't stop him from the freedom of expression.