" Ai chashmish." The voice rang out across the school bus. The little girl with glasses looked up and frowned. "Zara under chal. " The strident voice commanded. The five year old laboring under the too heavy school bag, shuffled forward, glaring at the giggling girls around her. At that age most children are cruel. The one who is perceived as different, smaller, becomes the butt of jokes.
"Ai Batke !" The voice that rang out from behind the little girl, belonged to an older child. The Sports Captain of the school. "Zara tameez se baat kar, samjha !" So saying she drew the little girl onto her lap, taking off the big bag and putting it on the lap of the simpering girl, sitting across. That shut them all up. The bus helper as well as the girls. It also earned her an admirer for life. The little girl whom she had stood up for.
That day, when she returned home and excitedly told me about the episode, I , her mother cringed. I didn't know whether i was sad or angry, or grateful. At the age of five, my daughter had been dianosed with weak eyesight, and prescribed spectacles. As we stood in the doctor's clinic, she was told to read the eye chart across the room. To my bewilderment, she couldn't, though she knew the alphabet like the back of her hand.Ironically, even at that tender age, books were the love of her life. I went home and wept the night thru. At the age of five, my daughter had been condemned to wear spectacles all her life. It was so unfair that at the age of forty, i didn't even need glasses to read. Nor did my husband.
So prescription glasses entered our lives. I had been told that she may require a chain or thread worn around her neck to keep them in place. But she took to them like a duck to water. I still remember the delight on her face when she first, hesitatingly, then wonderingly, wore her glasses for the first time. Then her face lit up as she bent low over her picture book, squealing with delight, as she realised she could see much better with them on. After that there was no looking back, pun intended. Instead of glasses we called them "Mister C" short for see. She would wake up in the morning, her tousled curls framing her little face, her first question, "Where's Mr. C ?" My heart dived somewhere to my toes, as i hugged her close, Glasses and all.
At home we learnt to accept her glasses. School, which she had just joined was a different proposition, all together. The other girls, singled her out, ganging up against her. My mind raced as i wiped her tears. "Nearly twenty five percent of the kids with her will wear glasses before they reach class five," the paediatrician had said.. But class five was seven light years away. So I requested an audience with the class teacher. The next day onwards, she was given the task of minding the class when the teacher left the classroom at any time. Looked up to as the authority figure, they soon gave up their prejudice against her, afraid that she would report them for talking in class. Good in spoken English, she landed most parts in school plays and concerts. Well behaved and mannerly, she soon became very popular with the rest.
Were they a bane, or a boon : her glasses ? I often wondered. As she grew, sometimes, she resented the fact that she was burdened with them, her small face, her beautiful eyes, hidden behind them. But we lived with that. Then in the senior years, she was looked upon as a nerd, or a geek. Until i pointed out to her that all the people she admired wore glasses. Her favorite teachers, as well as the school captain, even I was wearing them by now.
But we all agreed that "Mr. C." was a member of the family, when groggy with sleep, she protested my removing them from her eyes. " But mum ! How will i see my dreams without them?"
"Ai Batke !" The voice that rang out from behind the little girl, belonged to an older child. The Sports Captain of the school. "Zara tameez se baat kar, samjha !" So saying she drew the little girl onto her lap, taking off the big bag and putting it on the lap of the simpering girl, sitting across. That shut them all up. The bus helper as well as the girls. It also earned her an admirer for life. The little girl whom she had stood up for.
That day, when she returned home and excitedly told me about the episode, I , her mother cringed. I didn't know whether i was sad or angry, or grateful. At the age of five, my daughter had been dianosed with weak eyesight, and prescribed spectacles. As we stood in the doctor's clinic, she was told to read the eye chart across the room. To my bewilderment, she couldn't, though she knew the alphabet like the back of her hand.Ironically, even at that tender age, books were the love of her life. I went home and wept the night thru. At the age of five, my daughter had been condemned to wear spectacles all her life. It was so unfair that at the age of forty, i didn't even need glasses to read. Nor did my husband.
So prescription glasses entered our lives. I had been told that she may require a chain or thread worn around her neck to keep them in place. But she took to them like a duck to water. I still remember the delight on her face when she first, hesitatingly, then wonderingly, wore her glasses for the first time. Then her face lit up as she bent low over her picture book, squealing with delight, as she realised she could see much better with them on. After that there was no looking back, pun intended. Instead of glasses we called them "Mister C" short for see. She would wake up in the morning, her tousled curls framing her little face, her first question, "Where's Mr. C ?" My heart dived somewhere to my toes, as i hugged her close, Glasses and all.
At home we learnt to accept her glasses. School, which she had just joined was a different proposition, all together. The other girls, singled her out, ganging up against her. My mind raced as i wiped her tears. "Nearly twenty five percent of the kids with her will wear glasses before they reach class five," the paediatrician had said.. But class five was seven light years away. So I requested an audience with the class teacher. The next day onwards, she was given the task of minding the class when the teacher left the classroom at any time. Looked up to as the authority figure, they soon gave up their prejudice against her, afraid that she would report them for talking in class. Good in spoken English, she landed most parts in school plays and concerts. Well behaved and mannerly, she soon became very popular with the rest.
Were they a bane, or a boon : her glasses ? I often wondered. As she grew, sometimes, she resented the fact that she was burdened with them, her small face, her beautiful eyes, hidden behind them. But we lived with that. Then in the senior years, she was looked upon as a nerd, or a geek. Until i pointed out to her that all the people she admired wore glasses. Her favorite teachers, as well as the school captain, even I was wearing them by now.
But we all agreed that "Mr. C." was a member of the family, when groggy with sleep, she protested my removing them from her eyes. " But mum ! How will i see my dreams without them?"
Yes, cant 'C' without them..
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