Today is World Autism Day. Perhaps it is good to have a day
for women, animals, mothers, fathers, children, sweethearts, a disease and now
autism. It serves to build awareness. It pivots the public attention to an
important issue or cause which would otherwise go unnoticed. It also highlights
the need to do something about the said issue or cause.
I have never been too much of a fan of ‘Days’ however. A day
for a cause seems too pat, too convenient. It makes me think that with the
right kind of marketing, anything can be raised to a cause. Every such cause
then has a day. The other issue I have with ‘Days’ is that it eases the
collective conscience without really getting anything done. It is a hassle-free
way of saying “Oh gosh would you look at that!” and then forgetting about it. I
forget about things that don’t affect me directly too.
I cannot however
forget something that moves me every single day. Autism is a part of my life.
It has been so ever since my son was diagnosed at the age of five. I knew
something was not quite right when he was three or so. It took me two years to
get a diagnosis. Autism is not easy to live with. No one can know how tough it
is for the affected person to survive in a world that is patently designed for
people other than them. The world is too noisy, too bright, too fast, too
confusing. Language comes across as cacophony sometimes. Not many have the
patience to understand that sometimes they need to withdraw into their own
inner world just to be able to cope with all of the madness. It is like living
in a bubble through which sounds, sights, smells and even touch are distorted.
One day perhaps I will know what my child goes through.
There is much to do in this country to build awareness for a
disorder that is more prevalent today than it ever has been. The autistic
people here have it tougher than in most other countries because there is
simply too much resistance to their very existence. In a country when plenty of
so-called normal children die of neglect, malnutrition or even ignorance, who
has the time to care for imperfect children belonging to others? Who has the
time to devise strategies to teach them so they too can become part of the
society? Who has the heart to give them jobs that are meaningful so that they
can feel valued? There is, as I said, much work to be done.
On World Autism Day, I sit and write. I am tired of writing
about the injustice that I have come across on behalf of my kids at the centre.
From people who refuse to even let our kids spend a few hours in their school
to be exposed to neurotypical children to those who hesitate to share even
second-hand books with us or those who charge us extra because they see that we
are forced to pay more for things that everyone else has access to easily like
music lessons or a pottery class. No one sees the child in the disorder for the
disorder looms larger than life. At least on one designated day in the year, I
wish with all my heart that these children are looked upon with eyes of love
just as any other child should be.
