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It’s not fiction, for I didn't make up all of it. Neither is it quite faithful journalizing, nor does it have nothing to do with literature. Well I can possibly call it a letter. Of the sort I used to write to unknown, fictional people I loved to share my feelings and thoughts, before we walked away and became cooler and forgot everything. Well, most of it.

On my trip back from London on the airplane along with the other passengers were two particular passengers who seemed to draw an enormous amount of unwanted and unfavorable attention. A young woman and her child. The child seemed different physically from the “normal” children. Short of stature, a slightly larger head, unique facial characteristics, different from the larger section of “normal” children. Though I did not think so, this difference in appearance mattered to a great extent to my co-passengers as they stared and talked in hushed voices, making pitied sounds very obviously directed at the child. But they seemed oblivious to the discomfort of the mother; she hated this uncalled for attention. She tried to shield her child; took it in her arms. The child did not like it. It burst out in tears. The passengers shook their head and spoke some more. The young mother’s discomfort was evident as she helplessly tried to console her child. The wailings grew louder and the mood of the co passengers changed from pity to annoyance as they complained to each other in muffled voices. They seemed to think the mother could not handle her child well enough and how apt they were themselves when they had a child to handle. This scrutiny unnerved the mother, she struggled to put her child back to sleep. She felt the prick of the critical stares that besieged her from all around, accompanied by the occasional grumble and hissing sounds depicting impatience. She felt as if she had committed a crime, she deprived her co passengers of a quiet trip back to Mumbai, she had tread upon their slumber denied them their very right which would alleviate them from the trauma of listening to the shrieking cries of an abnormal child who demanded little tolerance in this world. That is how she felt and that is what she thought. It was all her fault. They made her think so. They opined, the scrutinized, they judged, they criticized, they denounced her, a few pitied her, yet none attempted to help. Not one among the large number flexed a couple of their precious motor muscles and made an effort to lend a helping hand to the befuddled mother who knew little to do. She needed the help, some assistance in whatever form.

I wondered then as I wonder now - is it the child’s deformity that prevented the passengers from helping or was it generally our attitude to live and let die. In case the latter holds true then it is a sad reflection of what society and its inhabitants have degraded to. But I seem to think it’s not the case. It is more of a self imposed social behavioral pattern that forbids us from walking up to someone and offering to help. It is a trend of self-consciousness that denies us of acts of generosity, that humane touch, the basic foundation of human beings. I question myself and find no answers. Would it have ruined anyone’s reputation or harmed any one in any possible way? I can not think of any such possibilities that should be a palisade to join a movement of mutual respect and human dignity. It would have been a grass-roots effort to raise awareness of the impact of the thoughtless, hurtful actions so often carried out by us. That child was a special child and any implication of the “R” word should have been vehemently condemned and I am sure that certain ominous afflictive word was used in that plane multiple times by multiple people and it had it’s effect on people. This lack of sensitivity is astounding, and even more astounding is the fact that we are satisfied enough with our unnerving ways so as to not check ourselves in front of a poor helpless young woman having a turbulent time already, who would obviously be more than just hurt to hear her own child being called a retard. I firmly believe there should be some measures taken devoted to educating and raising awareness of the positive impact individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities have in our communities and why the use of the R-word is hurtful, even in casual conversation. That would at least to a certain degree symbolize positive attitude change and a commitment to make the world a more accepting place for all people. Maybe that would do away the awkward stares and hush-hush conversations.