Almost Unseen

 An almost verbatim transcript of the TedX format delivery done at work, under 'SPEAK' program on 27/01/21 

   like those white flowers on the lone plant in a vast desert, are the little beautiful learnings we get from sources otherwise unseen

Almost Unseen

I will be talking about few of my experiences which I have not shared in any public forum so far, but those which I feel have helped me beyond any article, any speech, or any book I have been across.

An early evening on a Saturday in 2017, I walked home to a cranky preschooler who was waiting for me to get his lunch. Any other day, I would have been irritated that the child has to wait for me to be given his lunch. That day I surprised myself being a little numb/ mechanical, while I silently went about my duties as a mother. An hour earlier from then I was at the mortuary of the Trivandrum Medical College dressing two lifeless bodies that had just undergone a postmortem procedure. The task was tough for a petite-framed me to be lifting two stiff bodies to clothe especially since this was to be done at a verandah with an open window grill. There I felt an urge to protect them against the curious eyes of the strangers tiptoeing across a wall thirsting for a glimpse. Seeing me struggle in shifting this way and that to block those onlookers, a nurse found a coffin cover to block the window. One of our colleagues from Facilities came in to lend me a hand. I had no experience of doing such a task. Nobody pushed me into it. The deceased were our colleagues. One of whom I was just familiar with, as a friendly face in the next wing. The other was a total stranger. I had accompanied my friend that day to pay my respects, since one of them was in his team and belonged to the same unit as I and was a familiar face. We were waiting a little far from the 20-25 colleagues, mostly their sorrowful close friends from work. Then came in few uncles and cousins of these kids (that is what they were, at 25 years of age). The relatives were requesting, almost pleading (carrying white outfits) - asking any lady to help clothe these young women. Rules of the hospital does not allow men to do this. I was disappointed to find the sorrowful friends suddenly transform to scared feeble beings and, taking steps backward. The accident that took these lives could any day be anyone’s reality, could be mine or any one of theirs. I volunteered. I got them into the outfits with great difficulty. Then I waited to help (read ‘hold/ console’) few mourning close relatives who were allowed inside. I was offered water by a colleague when I came out after this ordeal. I did not need any. I was not gasping for breath in spite of all the formalin and smell of decay I inhaled.

It was not the task that made me feel blank and exhausted few hours later. What hit me hard more than the trauma of the task was the superficiality of people; they may have been talking and laughing with these ladies just a day ago. The fact that being lifeless, can scare the life out of people, whom we assumed were life-long friends. May be that is why we say ‘life-long’. Many months later, someone who was asking around to meet me was told surprisingly ‘Oh, don’t you know Indu, she is the bold lady who went into the mortuary’. It was amusing to hear that comment. For me, it was not an act of courage, nor a bravado, nor a dare. When does your friend or colleague become a scary body! It could be me any day. Or I may have been selfish to wish that I would get what I give - that some stranger would help me when I cannot help myself. We may be possessively aware of who and what matters to us but are we aware of what matters as human beings.

Death is a heavy topic. Let me talk about lighter topics. My school and my pre-university. We were a nuclear family with working parents whose work hours did not align with our school closing time. It was common then to employ elderly ladies to pick up children and drop them home. I was helped by a warm-hearted granny with few missing teeth - Subhashini. She helped 3 to 4 kids find their way home. These kids were mostly my age then (all of 6 or 7 years) – who lived along the same route. Subhashini was our GPS. We did nothing but follow her as she took us along lesser traffic routes and shielded us very well at crosswalks. The conversations with her were fun. One day after class I could not find Subhashini or the other co-walkers where she usually waits for us. I don’t recollect whether I was late or whether the others did not have classes that day. There I was - at the school gate- stuck and mentally figuring out the route home and being all courageous thinking ‘oh I know the way; I can make it’. There was only one tiny problem. Subhashini used to take us along a maze of connecting lanes so that we escaped the main road traffic. I was deliberating whether it is safe to take the main road or try my luck at traversing the maze. That is when I hear a grumpy voice behind me ‘Granny not there? You can accompany me; I walk that route and you can get home’. Startled, I turn around to find the kid we were all most scared of in school.

All the stories of fights he had picked up, the repeats he had in every grade and the pictures of him beating up other boys flashed through my mind. I thought up my chances – losing in a maze, getting hit by a well-aimed scooter when crossing the main road or, follow this rowdy. Left without much choice, I asked as a mater-of-fact ‘Do we go by the main road?’ I was not taking a chance, what if he punches my nose when at the deserted maze. The answer was a grumpy ‘Ahh’ .I followed him. Neither spoke a word till we reached my doorstep and, I muttered a thanks and he walked on, not even stopping. While back in school he never teased me (as I expected) nor did he acknowledge the help he rendered. That simple act of kindness from that rowdy stuck with me forever as my earliest lesson on never to judge people.

This school is an English medium state syllabi Girls’ Convent School in town. (I did not make up that kind-rowdy story; the school is co-ed till 4th grade.) We spoke only in Malayalam, other than giggling in English - when the teachers reminded us to ‘speak in English’. I had scored decent at my matriculation. All of us were thrilled looking forward to the colorful college life. It was however bemusing for me. I had secured admission at the prestigious Women’s College in the first rank list. The prospect of pre-university/ pre-degree at a college was not very thrilling for me. My mother has been a professor there for long. She was working at a different college then on transfer. Then what?! Well, every department there had a friend of hers. Which meant I will be watched over. Another college? Not a chance - if you know the network of teachers. I found an option to “better concentrate on studies” -to join an ISC school for Plus Two. They had limited seats for State Syllabi. The admission interview saw a feisty me telling the panel I am ready to take up any challenge that a state syllabi student would struggle with. I got admission. The first day at school for the induction program freaked me out. I walked alone into a large hall of highly accented English-only-speaking crowd, not knowing a single kid around. Everyone else seem to know someone.

I stood alone in a corner awaiting instructions and, a girl walks up to me and asks if I was from a different school and if I was waiting for a friend. I said yes and no, none of my friends here. She immediately led me to most of the gangs around, introduced me and gave me company that whole day and the rest of that first week. I made a lot of friends in school. I have forgotten most of what was taught in the syllabi. Memories of lessons are limited to the Sir who used to say ‘PREpendicular’, the way we used to call Covalent Bonds as ‘Kovalante mundu’ and the Chemistry teacher who sang us lullabies of ‘CH3C-vavo-H’ (CH3COOH is Acetic Acid I think, as colorless as the syllabi). But I will never forget the support from this girl that relieved me from a puzzled state. The almost Unseen power of the simplest ways of support.

Few colleagues have told me subtly that I am haughty. If speaking my mind, not sympathizing, doing what I think is right, taking a needed break, spending my own earning the way I wish to and not falling in line makes me haughty, so be it. Humility and being humane are not defined by the tone of your voice, your way of living, the empathy you express or the way you appear to the outside. There are lot of people around us who have surprised me with their humane actions which they may never speak about. It needs a certain depth of thought, genuine feeling of purpose and may be very simple acts that are possible from us. There are many things we realize when we have our eyes, ears and minds open. Never judge, never fear, support as much and help as and when we can. I genuinely try and am sure most of you do too.

What would you remember as a life well-lived and how would you wish to be remembered? There are many ways in which we can create those otherwise unseen moments of value from & in our life. Wishing you every day of value.