Another Shade Of Green

A couple of days ago, I was hanging out with my friends at a popular zone. Somehow on entering that place, I was suddenly struck by that plague extraordinaire : silence. I withdrew into my shell, as I often do, and began to think. Think about about the futility and inevitability of it all. Think about the new detours that our common highway was splitting into. And quietly but unwillingly, I began to sink into the depths of gloom. There, while we waiting at the bowling alley for a free lane, I saw this group of people, all of whom were hearing-impaired. I saw them, gesturing vigourously with their hands, trying to communicate through the Sign Language. They blended effortlessly into the hip, young crowd there and I would guess them to be around 23-25 years of age. There were about six of them, three guys, two women and a small young boy, barely five years old. While I was waiting there with the rest of my friends, I continued to watch them. I saw them gesturing enthusiastically, laughing together, teasing each other regarding their bowling skills or rather the lack of it. You could see the laughter gleaming in their eyes and the absolutely magical joy with which they had embraced life. All of them began to clap and applaud as the young boy (I guess he one of the couple's son) lifted the ball with great effort and staggered nervously towards the lane. They all began to cheer as his father lifted him and helped him bowl. As his ball trotted off into the gutter, they all let out a collective sigh and the two women rushed to hug him. Then, the kid saw his dad bowl and as nine of the pins spluttered away like dominoes, he rushed towards his mom to give her a high-five and began to explain the pins' descent to his mom with pure ecstasy written all over his angelic face. As I watched them, still grappling with my gloom, I saw the joie de vivre that had softly illuminated their life. And slowly, like a ghost, a whisper in my mind came alive.


Hell, I'm the one who's disabled.