I have read a story by this name
Rather grim but touching all the same.
The blind man was the butt of many-a joke
The entire village made fun of the poor bloke.
He was hapless, vulnerable and cringed
Whenever assaulted; he was never loved.
His kin resented the little food he was served
He was made to beg, was left to die freezing on the road.
It was a story of profound grief
I just wanted to sit and weep
I could imagine the pathos, the pain
Endured silently by the blind man.
Suddenly right before my eyes arose
Surreal figure of the man and he chose
To cast a glance full of venom at me
I was flabbergasted-why sue me?
"Don't pretend" said he, "of virtue.
You are same as all the eyed people
Your eyes see only outward
Have you ever inspected your soul?"
"Do you see the blind beggar at the crossroad?
Do you help the rag picker to make his future secure?
No- you are blind to all the treachery and cruelty taking place around you
Then, don't grieve for me-I won't exonerate you."
I stared -glassy-eyed -not daring to cry
He perceived my discomfiture -and was mollified.
The figure vanished- slowly my eyes got focused
In the sunlit room-with the book in hand -I was seeing shadows of the dead.
~Jayanti Sinha~
