Bolla had to battle rigid mindsets to assert his right to education. Bullied in his school in rural Andhra Pradesh, denied entry into an IIT, Srikantha shone his way through MIT in the US. (Source: IMDb)
A review by Shubhra Gupta (‘Touch of the Light’, IE, May 11) of the film Srikanth, based on the inspiring, real-life story of the visually-impaired Srikanth Bolla, who set up an environment-friendly manufacturing industry, revived memories of my association with admirable individuals who had not allowed their lack of vision to come in the way of leading independent lives.
During my college days in Elphinstone, Bombay, I had several classmates who had lost their eyesight because of small-pox. During free periods, some of us read chapters to them from textbooks. I got particularly fond of one of them who stayed in the government hostel for boys, near Churchgate station. After college hours, Namdev would stand at the station selling lottery tickets. On our way home, my friends and I would stop by to chat with him, admiring the way he felt the currency and returned the correct amount to customers. In a split second, feeling the dial of his watch, he would tell us the exact time and we would hurry away to catch our train to the suburbs. On his birthday, we would go to his hostel and celebrate with my home-made cakes. Always genial, Namdev never evoked pity, even though, apart from his physical disability, he was also economically disadvantaged. Sadly, over the years I lost touch with him.
Quite unlike Namdev, was Arun (name changed), whom we also read to. The review carried in this paper also made me remember him in particular. Gupta observes pertinently, “Dispensing with this aspect — that disabled people need to be ‘noble’ and ‘good’ — is the strength of this film. Rao (the actor playing Srikanth) does a solid job of being disgruntled and too smart for his own good, telling us that people with deep challenges are, after all, also human. They can also behave badly.”
Arun was like that. One morning, while I was reading aloud to him, the bell rang and I had to excuse myself to attend an Economics class, promising to continue reading the next day. This upset him. Unreasonably so, I thought. Quoting from Kabir, Arun admonished me, “Kaal kare so aaj kar, aaj kare so ab,” insisting I finish reading the chapter I had started reading. Annoyed, I told him I could not miss my lecture and left. Gupta’s review softened my memories about Arun and also made me feel less repentant about my reaction. After all these decades, I realised that both of us had behaved as two normal individuals in a particular situation.
Things have improved considerably since my college days, and since Srikanth Bolla’s childhood, at least in metropolitan cities. Bolla had to battle rigid mindsets to assert his right to education. Bullied in his school in rural Andhra Pradesh, denied entry into an IIT, Srikantha shone his way through MIT in the US.
The review made me remember one rainy evening, a few years ago, when I saw a young girl alight from a bus on the road and open a white cane to feel her way home. The road was slushy so I asked her if I could help. She said she would manage but, nonetheless, I walked beside her and we chatted till she reached her housing society gate. A chirpy youngster, she told me about the course in mass media she was doing from one of the premium colleges in the country and about her wonderful classmates. She travelled by bus and local train every day to and from college, like thousands of students in this city.
I never saw her again but have often thought about her. After reading about Srikanth, I decided to ask about her from her neighbours. I was told that she was married and living with her in-laws. Silently, I prayed that they were good people and she was in a happy space.
Another visually-impaired person, who has never allowed his handicap to dampen his spirits, is the husband of a very dear friend. Willy lost his vision due to an accident, midlife. Yet, he continues in his profession as a SEBI-certified financial advisor, using the latest aides available to overcome his disability. He is my go-to guide for financial, housing and various other problems. And he hasn’t given up making yummy, plum cakes for Christmas. A complete man!
I came upon another admirable man in a branch of State Bank of India, where, unfailingly, I had an annual showdown with staffers when I went to deposit money in my Public Provident Fund account. One year, to my pleasant surprise, I chanced upon a very efficient member whose help I sought. Without looking at me, he directed me to the right counter where I could do the needful. Standing in the queue, I looked at him again and saw him guiding other customers in the same manner, eyes fixed at some spot in front of him. I realised then that the handsome, efficient staffer was visually impaired. Yet, he knew the topography of his cramped office better than those who could see.
I cannot end this piece without mentioning a treasured gift — a beautiful, leaf-shaped piece of pottery, its veins remarkably realistic, made by one of the students of a remarkable institution, Happy Home & School for the Blind. Every time I look at it, I marvel at a sightless child’s skill in reproducing God’s creation so accurately.
Reading about Srikantha evoked the same admiration.
Chowdhury is the author of Dev Anand: Dashing, Debonair (2004) and Madhubala: Masti & Magic (2003)y
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First uploaded on: 16-05-2024 at 17:47 IST
