Sometimes I notice my eyes tend to get fatigued by the time it's evening. I wonder whether it is due to spending too much time staring into the laptop's screen, or whether it is due to the rather too bright glare from the windows of my cabin.Anyway, even as I reach home and realise that my eyes have begun to ache, I also realise how much of our lives depend on our eyes.
Speaking for myself, the typical routine - on reaching home each evening/night - goes like this. After having washed, refreshed etc (how "polite" a word to avoid describing bodily functions!) etc, I settle down with either a newspaper (yes, I didn't have the time to read that all important "Change of Name"!) or the crossword puzzle or a novel - while having my coffee. Or else, after a while, I switch on the TV and spend some time getting idiotised. And, maybe, every once in a while, here I am, plonked in front of my computer at home - rambling along to myself (and you!).
So, it strikes me, even the things that one enjoys doing, one tends to use ones eyes. Fatigue, where comes the relief? At this rate, failing eyesight, dimming vision et al only reinforce that earlier thought of mine about ageing...
A year or so back, driving back home one evening, near the old Passport Office at Worli I was stopped by the sight of a blind woman leading a blind man, crossing the road at a traffic signal there. A not uncommon sight, one might say, but yet a sight that for a fleeting moment registered in my brain. I moved on, not really conscious of the seed that had been planted in my mind.
Waking up at dawn one day after that, while it still was dark I was overcome by a sudden impulse to try and live for a few moments at least, a blind life. So, I walked with eyes closed the few feet of familiar space from my bed to the bathroom. A mere few feet became a perilous minefield of protrusions that my knees unerringly found. Creeping quietly, so as not to wake my still sleeping wife, I bump into the exercise cycle's pedal, cracking my shin - biting down on my lips, eyes still tightly closed, I negotiate the distance to my bathroom, bang against the wall with my shoulder and somehow, soundlessly, manage to enter the bathroom - deliberately, I have refrained from switching on the light. In darkness now, I venture to open my eyes and grope around to get a feel of a once familiar place.
The washbasin - aha, gotcha. Turn the faucet on and wash my face. The towel is here, to the left, hanging from its holder. I take it and dry my face. The toothbrush and toothpaste are to my right, I get them one by one. Open the cap of the toothpaste and squeeze out the stuff onto the brush. That sounds easy. It ends up on my thumb and fingers.. messy, icky stuff. Scrape it off with the brush, not sure whether the quantity is right.. it's just a wee bit too less but I don't have the heart to risk squeezing the tube again. Brush brush brush, right, left, up, down - there, my teeth are ready for another day. Gargle, mouthwash and I'm through. What next?
Comb my hair. Where's the hairbrush? There, on the shelf just above the toothbrush holder, where it always hangs. SImple! Oops!! It IS there but just a wee bit to the right or left or wherever of where I assumed it to be. Plop, splash - the ruddy thing has fallen into the bucket of water and now my hand is wet up to the elbow, groping for the brush. Got it, now! Shake it dry, wipe it on the towel and finally I comb my hair. Now, I am ready for another day.
Gingerly I switch on the light and open my eyes - my combed hair is a just memory of the well groomed head that I am finicky about. The parting is awry, rebellious clumps of hair have refused to obey the dictates of my comb, standing up in defiance of my attempt at playing blind. Now, with seeing eyes I beat them down into submission, within a few seconds and meekly they fall in line.
I step out of the bathroom with a slightly better understanding of the power of sight - and, however brief my experiment was, I emerged with a marginally better insight into the life of the sight deprived....
Waking up at dawn one day after that, while it still was dark I was overcome by a sudden impulse to try and live for a few moments at least, a blind life. So, I walked with eyes closed the few feet of familiar space from my bed to the bathroom. A mere few feet became a perilous minefield of protrusions that my knees unerringly found. Creeping quietly, so as not to wake my still sleeping wife, I bump into the exercise cycle's pedal, cracking my shin - biting down on my lips, eyes still tightly closed, I negotiate the distance to my bathroom, bang against the wall with my shoulder and somehow, soundlessly, manage to enter the bathroom - deliberately, I have refrained from switching on the light. In darkness now, I venture to open my eyes and grope around to get a feel of a once familiar place.
The washbasin - aha, gotcha. Turn the faucet on and wash my face. The towel is here, to the left, hanging from its holder. I take it and dry my face. The toothbrush and toothpaste are to my right, I get them one by one. Open the cap of the toothpaste and squeeze out the stuff onto the brush. That sounds easy. It ends up on my thumb and fingers.. messy, icky stuff. Scrape it off with the brush, not sure whether the quantity is right.. it's just a wee bit too less but I don't have the heart to risk squeezing the tube again. Brush brush brush, right, left, up, down - there, my teeth are ready for another day. Gargle, mouthwash and I'm through. What next?
Comb my hair. Where's the hairbrush? There, on the shelf just above the toothbrush holder, where it always hangs. SImple! Oops!! It IS there but just a wee bit to the right or left or wherever of where I assumed it to be. Plop, splash - the ruddy thing has fallen into the bucket of water and now my hand is wet up to the elbow, groping for the brush. Got it, now! Shake it dry, wipe it on the towel and finally I comb my hair. Now, I am ready for another day.
Gingerly I switch on the light and open my eyes - my combed hair is a just memory of the well groomed head that I am finicky about. The parting is awry, rebellious clumps of hair have refused to obey the dictates of my comb, standing up in defiance of my attempt at playing blind. Now, with seeing eyes I beat them down into submission, within a few seconds and meekly they fall in line.
I step out of the bathroom with a slightly better understanding of the power of sight - and, however brief my experiment was, I emerged with a marginally better insight into the life of the sight deprived....
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