VISIONS..

The flute player and his wife used to sit on a jute mat by the roadside near the bus depot. He used to play old melodies on his wooden weather beaten flute. The melodies would enthral the people passing by, who would promptly throw some loose change in a aluminium vessel on the mat. The sound of clinking of coins would bring a smile on the player's wrinkled face. The songs would vary according to the season and the festivals occurring round the year in our small town. There was hope written all over the flute player's face. During the rains, a large umbrella used to provide shelter to them. The music went on regardless of the rains. After sunset, the couple used to slowly waddle, hand in hand to their home.

The telephone operator was a very busy man, A queue of people used to throng outside his booth with anxious faces, awaiting their turn to speak to their friends or relatives, far and near, with good or bad news. Sometimes, you could see a lone lady chatting with her long distance husband. Her conversations were long and interspersed with sobs and tears. The operator would never eaves-drop and be lost in his own world humming devotional songs being played on a wall mounted antique radio. His daughter would be his sole companion and escort him home with the onset of the night.

The incense stick seller was a very prominent figure standing on our railway bridge. You could encounter the enticing smell of roses, jasmine and lavender around him. He always used to light up the sample pieces to attract the crowds who were in a perpetual state of hurry. The perfume used to slower their steps and give business to the seller. The money would bring a smile to his pock mark ridden face. His son would pack his business bag and take him home in the last night train. They would count the day's earnings in the empty train.

One thing these struggling people had in common was a white cane and a pair of dark goggles !

Their handicap never prevented the smiles on their faces or the songs on their lips.

The flautist used to imagine about the film stars and the dancers who would be performing in the songs he played on his flute. The incense stick seller used to imagine about the flowers and their vivid colours. The operator would long to see the faces of the people who used to throng his booth and speak on his phone. This imagination alone, would make their faces happy.

At least, they wished to see the scenery and sights around in this big world.

We never bother about these common every day people.

We never bother to see their plight. A kind thought for them, eludes our busy minds.

We just move on, marching ahead with our sad harried long faces.

I wonder about our and their vision.

Are they blind ? or Are we blind?

You decide.