I write wearing her shoes


I am visually impaired and I can’t see. And I want to pour my heart through Shyam’s imagination. She says. And thus Shyam writes wearing her shoes.

I have a human life. I got dreams. I wish for things. I want to live and be happy. But I am not normal like the ones who can live and see life in its totality. I am born just as normal as any one. I got limbs and dreams not so different from any others. I wish to smile and sing, fly on the high thoughtful wings. Life owes me the same touch of mortality that it gifts other souls. I have a heart; I believe can love just the same. My Name is not uncommon within the population of living souls. But am I still alive with the kind of life, I am gifted with?

My friends can boast of having had 10 boyfriends so far. I listen to their gossips during the lunch hours. Their giggling over the description of the most ugly one, she ever had makes me imagine what that “Ugliness” would comprise of? Then they talk about the beautiful walks they had through the woods and gardens, green and serene. The other friend boasts about having rejected 17 boys in her life so far—I imagine what ugliness must have meant. Zangmo then softly says; ‘I love my present boyfriend so dearly that I can’t live without him’. The rest of the girls have all praises for him. I imagine what handsome/smartness would mean.

Back in my bed, all alone, blinking eyes with no vision, I lay. Am I capable of falling in love? I asked myself. Will any one ever be my boyfriend and can I ever dip myself in the vast honey pot of lust and love? Yes I can, for, Love is in the heart and not in the eyes.  I consoled myself. Tears rolled down a vision less pair of eyes. My heart replied; “who does, these days, peep in to your heart for love?” Rare !!

(Author’s note): With due respect and regard to all the physically challenged fellow beings I would like to pray, wish and hope that Love see no distinction. This is purely an author’s imagination. Any resemblance to any one living or dead is coincidental.

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