We had been to our regular walk this evening but we were met with some surprise walkers there. It was a group of school children of varying ages. All wearing their uniform - ruse colour shirt, coffee brown pant or frock or salwar. All holding partner's hand and walking merrily watching trees and bushes around. All chirping in childish, lazy syllables. Some walking too fast, others too slow. Little infighting kiddish. Some tired and sitting like birds in the middle of walking track. It was so pleasing a sight for us to see so many children. But as we approached the last pair from behind and one of them turned back, our pleasure got converted into a sheepish, frozen pleasure. They were all 'not normal' children from a nearby school for special children.
We waded through the flock of them, not disturbing them. We patted on the shoulder of a boy while squeezing through and he gave us a nice smile. We maintained a nice professional smile on our face, but inside it was not all the same. We were shaken to see so many innocent humans with an obvious flaw in their normalhood. They were not at all surprised to see us, so many normal people around, but we were. They were in their normal being, in fact little more comfy being with nature. But we were uneasy with ourselves - we could neither ignore them, nor felt to be part of them. A different crowd that we never have been into. A different crowd that does not allow one to hide and flow. A different crowd that itself is at its normal, but makes one feel very abnormal.
On our way back on the walking track, we again saw these children. Now their caretakers had organized them into a clumsy group and prepared them to run. On the blow of the whistle, they were asked to run. It was a special sight to see these children run, some too fast, some sluggish. Some didn't even try, they were pushed to. The caretakers were trying their best to energize them, enthuse them. One caretaker actually took the palm of a small boy and started running with him to make him 'run'. Yet one another boy simply refused shyly after running a bit. It was not the normal running of the normal children, sure. That running also announced loudly their special mental status. And it was as expected. But watching all this, and unexpectedly, was not so easy to accept.
We didn't speak with each other. We wondered why. Why some 'gifts of god' are made so special? Why do they see, hear and talk but not normally? Why do they smile so innocently not worried about themselves? Why do they run without trying to pass others or without goal of winning? Why one of them goes shy after running a bit?
We also wondered why. Why are we so different from them? Why are we so perfect in walking, talking and hearing than them? Why are we called 'normal' and they 'not normal'? Why are our children so demanding, cunny and cute? Why don't we do something for 'them'? Why do we feel too selfish when we see them? Why do we feel too careless when we see their caretakers? Why do we grumble for small failures or lacunas in our lives and they don't?
A strange, guilty feeling started creeping in our mind. Don't know why? Do you?
We waded through the flock of them, not disturbing them. We patted on the shoulder of a boy while squeezing through and he gave us a nice smile. We maintained a nice professional smile on our face, but inside it was not all the same. We were shaken to see so many innocent humans with an obvious flaw in their normalhood. They were not at all surprised to see us, so many normal people around, but we were. They were in their normal being, in fact little more comfy being with nature. But we were uneasy with ourselves - we could neither ignore them, nor felt to be part of them. A different crowd that we never have been into. A different crowd that does not allow one to hide and flow. A different crowd that itself is at its normal, but makes one feel very abnormal.On our way back on the walking track, we again saw these children. Now their caretakers had organized them into a clumsy group and prepared them to run. On the blow of the whistle, they were asked to run. It was a special sight to see these children run, some too fast, some sluggish. Some didn't even try, they were pushed to. The caretakers were trying their best to energize them, enthuse them. One caretaker actually took the palm of a small boy and started running with him to make him 'run'. Yet one another boy simply refused shyly after running a bit. It was not the normal running of the normal children, sure. That running also announced loudly their special mental status. And it was as expected. But watching all this, and unexpectedly, was not so easy to accept.
We didn't speak with each other. We wondered why. Why some 'gifts of god' are made so special? Why do they see, hear and talk but not normally? Why do they smile so innocently not worried about themselves? Why do they run without trying to pass others or without goal of winning? Why one of them goes shy after running a bit?
We also wondered why. Why are we so different from them? Why are we so perfect in walking, talking and hearing than them? Why are we called 'normal' and they 'not normal'? Why are our children so demanding, cunny and cute? Why don't we do something for 'them'? Why do we feel too selfish when we see them? Why do we feel too careless when we see their caretakers? Why do we grumble for small failures or lacunas in our lives and they don't?
A strange, guilty feeling started creeping in our mind. Don't know why? Do you?
