Today...

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.