When the blind leadeth the blind...

Today I was kind of pissed, for whatever reasons… and I kind of looked scary as well with a generous dose of kohl smudged in my eyes. So I was walking furiously towards the station (when I am mad, I walk really fast)… then I noticed a guy in a red Tshirt walking in front of me: he kept bumping into people, he kept slipping off the footpath. Then I noticed that he had a stick in his hand, but can’t say he was making much progress with it. I caught up with him easily: he was a young chinky guy (I am ashamed of myself, but I really didn’t know whether he was from our very own north east or from a different country: Nepal, China or Japan or whatever). Now I didn’t know what to do: yes I was in a hurry, but more importantly I didn’t want to show unnecessary pity on him like he was some kind of invalid or anything, I didn’t want to hurt his pride but then again I didn’t want him to get hurt either… so I just discreetly followed him, alert and ready just in case he tripped or bumped into something/ somebody. As usual, the typical Mumbai pedestrians were just too busy to take notice of a blind chinky guy stumbling along with a stick. Then as he brushed past yet another car, I had had enough. I grabbed his arm roughly, and dragged him on the footpath like he was my kid and led him furiously (I forgot that I was walking really fast), my iron grip still holding on to him. At first it was awkward, but then I think he resigned to my determination. Everybody was rushing towards the station, I was walking towards the station and I assumed that he also wanted to go the station. So when we reached the station, I asked him (by now, I was a little less pissed, so I was not quite as rude) which train he wanted to catch. Then he politely informed me that he wanted to go the bus stop and catch bus no. 165. I stared at him in disbelief, and then kicked myself. He didn’t seem too upset though, so I again walked him back to the bus stop and waited till the bus arrived. I asked him whether he will be able to manage, but by now he was advising other passengers about different bus routes, and seemed extremely confident (misplaced as it was). He replied “yes madam, thank you madam” and I made my way back to the station, by now a little humbled by the young man, who seemed to have taken his misfortune in his stride (literally). Here I was, complaining about little things, getting caught up in trivial “problems”, taking things for granted which that poor guy would have killed for….as I made my way back to the station, I sobered down considerably and decided I was the blind one:
Blind about how lucky I was
Blind about my privileges
Blind about my plethora of choices
Blind about things that matter…