Fine Difference.

The school bag was thrown followed by, the whole bundle of a little pack of anger. It was now for 53 hours, that her sparkling eyes shined no more, as her mother was out of her sight. As her eyes were covered with a flake of disappointment. Informed by elders, now she doubted of how her mother’s visit to a hospital can result in a consequence of  returning back with another new member in their family ?

Why not she just ordered it, the member, to home, like parcels or home delivery or something.

As she battled with the numerous brew of puzzles, queries, doubts and what not, banging her little wit, her Nani offered her hungry tummy with food. Yet this anger soaked sponge of curiosity , her thought’s diversity touching vertex, the insanely brought up mumma’s girl didn’t even smell the efforts of an old silly lady.

And another day passed hardly taking any food. She just wanted her mother’s sight & to hear her & to fall asleep in the ineffability of her warming arms, and not any bloody younger sibling to take even a pinch of her possession. Why would she need, when she already had an elder brother to pamper?

The next day was a national holiday, 15 of August as the calender spoke, and as she was about to get ready for school’s flag hosting & all the patriotism stuffs, she was finally offered to meet her mother. And within the next hour, as her uncle pushed the cabin’s door, burst was a volcanic jolliness of her giggling heart. The scenery of her mother. Her mother, her weak face, dried lips, tired eyes, weakened, a patient from every angle of vision. She ran towards her as her mother, with the same laid down pose, greeted her by touching her cheeks and tousled leaving her Bob hair cut messy. A happy teary eyed mother, to sight her stubborn princess.

She was messily wired up with demonic medical stuffs. As the tiny faced, big eyed looked terrifyingly at her mother’s wrist that was pierced and inserted was a big thick spooky pointed pin, the mother’s little bird was distracted by another elder member by being pointed towards another bed by her side, a little higher.

Climbing up fast, like a monkey on a banana tree, she looked towards the content laid there, a new world,  her new world. She kept her eyes wide open, goggling, as if blinking would be succeeded by imprisonment. Like she had empowered her involuntary biological system.


A minute red faced, eyes squeezing … Fingers curled up, so small, so delicate. Indubitably, this little girl was no more going to be mentioned “little”. Yet something stirred her conscience. The cuteness, his cuteness. All those hatred that she had stitched in her mind were cut with sharp cute view of this younger life, of her younger life. She never knew, this sleepy head will turn her favourite creature, her favourite soul, the dearest being that would world ever gift her with. Now, with the slight change in the air, as dusk arrived, there was slight change that also spread over her conscience. Now she was an elder sister, something veiled her up, a responsibility, maybe!


As days added up, added up were new developments that one can soothe their eyes with. What’s more heavenly than to see a baby growing slowing, everyday, noticeably growing, eachday, everyday?


She had actually painted with seriousness, had turned a responsible elder a sister, who doesn’t even allow her mother to touch him, unless otherwise required. She was the closest person to him, she was half of his mother, his caretaker. Nobody would dare scold him, or she would suck life out of them. Not a word against, was allowed. He was a piece of her heart.


*4 years later*

And another slap hit the delicate cheek of the 5 years aged kid, allowing an addition to the flood of his tears. His little ears that has turned red due to continuous hours of sobbing & crying, were further dragged into misery and  haunted by loud ghostly yelling of the sound witted elders. His screaming vibrations, the loud sound of whimpers’ oscillated & banged the wall of the suffocating brick closet, not enough strong to break them. His weak fingers, lacked the tendency to even hold a pencil thoroughly. His retinas weren’t scared of anything, but books, their contains & the horrible dancing of alphabets that were beyond understandability. He was a criminal for making his family ashamed. He was criminal for not understanding the exact concept of the tongues’ movements so as to utter those howling noises, in the very same manner as other cold hearted mingy humans do. He was a criminal of not being mentally wicked but weak. The world never laughs at the cunning after all, they laugh at the innocent but dunce, since dunce! They miffed the innocents, the never ending vicious human race.

The dusk covered the sky, as swollen skins covered his eye. The sun had set, so had the hope.


*1 year, 4 months ago*

As the worried parents took him for hearing test, were pleased with the positive results. His nonspeaking and recluse behaviour, had led to arousal of queries of him being a deaf. But then, that the prescription spoke differently, hope had arisen that may be its just a delay and not any defection.

But days added, he never was able to speak a single phrase. He was admitted to a play school, but it successfully invited negligence consequence. He neither spoke anything, nor seemed like understanding things. Later, after undergoing many pshycological & mental tests, results were terrifying for the family members. As it spoke, of him, being a dumb, a dunce, or perhaps in other words a lunatic. A crackling susurration of the breaking hearts, of the whole family, the parents, the 14 years brother & a 9 years aged sister, his half-mother.

And then continued the daily routines, of chasing for some solutions, of begging a ray of the fate to touch the edge of some positive outcomes. And one day, something relieving occurred. There was a centre of Speech Therapy who after another verge of examination on the little child, concluded that there’s some chances of him of speaking. However, never to hope more than that.

A year of training, and he had started speaking words, and a little sum of phrases. He was addicted to television programmes and learnt speaking from therein as well. But now, the cruelity of the nature, he was further demanded to write, to get educated, and what not. Its a real real tough thing to make learn an autism. Oh, well “Autism”.


Autism is a disorder, a neurodevelopmental disorder. Its symptoms can be recognised from early age, from very childhood. Its basic contain is the slower rate of mental growth. An autistic faces challenges in the vicinity of interactions, formal communications and social behaviours. Causes aren’t specified but are doubted to be genetic or any disorder in the surrounding environment. However, in his case, the suspected reason of such hazardous resultant was vaccine hypothesis. Yes, a carelessness, a mere carelessness of a nurse or so was the reason of a complete structural breakage of someone’s whole life!

Inside the home of an autism mental factory, there lacks a coordination between the brain and nerve cells, erupting volcanic lava of least understandability. They lack the capability of speaking and expressing and suppressing ones realistic inner feelings, that generate within. Its alike a language barrier, like two people’s conversation with not a single common language in knowledge of one another.

Autism in no way, is any kind of sub-section of mental illness or insanity. Its a disorder, I repeat, a disorder. ‘A little more akin a punishment for a fault never committed’. But, but the sarcastic society! What could feed the hunger of sarcasm that emits out of the well-witted sane homo sapiens cruel hormones? The cruel world of mockery could only throw balls of sarcasm veiled in the fire of sympathy.

This 5 years aged child was a criminal for his parents to be criticized by the cruel social animals with questions alike: why not your child start writing, my 2years old girl have started schooling & inks sentences & even goes for painting classes! Some say, is he needed to admit in a mental hospital, I have some contacts, should I help ? And others ridiculously utter irritating words alike, “mercy, lord mercy, how will he be able to make a career, to earn a livelihood!”


Such pressurization builts suffocating walls from every corner for the belongings. Autism children learn things really difficultly. One needs every unexpected level of patience to teach them any matter of fact, a behaviour or whatever. Probably no human can breathe into such relentless patience and calmness, at least not those who are deeply burdened to answer the relegated questions of malaise of the society.


That heightened dusk, he was badly beaten up, brutalized, as punishment for being different, but finally he wrote an alphabet! It felt alike, the first rain drop on the deserted village after a decade, the precipitation filling up every cracks. The drop filling life into the dead. But there are many other who can’t, and that is absolutely okay.

There are some 30 million more children, autistic, criminals! Criminals of not being the same as others.

But dear world, have you ever noticed a cache of arts of any artist? Have you noticed, the each one of it differing from other? But does that make an art a weaker than the other? Would you be pleased to see every work of art the similar as the rest? Definitely not! It’s the same. Its really the same concept here, the artist being the Lord!


May be they aren’t very slow, maybe we, are really hurried in the quest of achieving our dreams, that somehow is connected to money, fame and blah. But theirs, is not.


They don’t demand your sympathy, they just are the needy of an extra love and affection. The only message towards the world would be, even though someone is mentally weak or ill, don’t laugh at them, they aren’t at fault, don’t prove yourself to be a bigger insane. Dear world, just pause for  a while, just for a while, live the reality and then you shall be allowed to bid departure.

The little kid has grown up to a 11 years towering adolescent. His schooling has continued so far, but not a very ahead to go. He isn’t expected to be an engineer or a doctor. At least he has a family who understands him. His more than normal childish trait didn’t pester any member’s mentality. Not everybody in the world is to earn paper notes. Not ambitions of all, are set that kind. Atleast ‘they’ understood, and that was enough. He has a matured elder brother, who treats him like own son. He still has his sister, his care taker. Still, the only voice that raises to scold him. Still, no else has been permitted to punish him. Still, his sister, his half mother.


He has a world of his own, he resides in it( Like A Boss). Autism is otherwise a land where you’re alone, with your solitudes. Only you, and not a world, judgemental. Where there ain’t any social ethics and behavioural obligations. Where even the way you smile, or cry or sob is never judged. Its a world of aloneness, a blissful aloneness.

And I do hope the belongings of other autistic to cooperate with their special child as well.

I had sighted a case of an autistic’s father brutally trying to kill him, because of the shamefulness he was filled with, to face the society termed as his father. But tell me, has the child anything to do with the mocking and embarrassing shyness of such shyster world? Is it an outcome of his mischief?


For the sake of Lord, try to understand that they’re already suffering for a blunder, that they didn’t commit. Being privileged by the greatness of fate, is never meant to take advantages tyrannically.

I know there are member of family carrying an autistic, who try mummifying the existence of the concerned person. I know no person want a weaker learner as their sibling or child.


But dear world, not every person need to be same. Not every one is bound to expose all their demons on lesser blessed. Not every parents are the same, and not the whole of human race drunk in cruelity. Some really do take such people as their responsibilities, with whole hearted, wide meaningful smile.


Dear world, not every woman in the world is fond of a proposal in front of Eiffel tower. Not everyone seeks a diamond ring. Not everyone knits a dream family of her husband and her own child. Some really are served with responsibleness gifted by the nature, and accept it with due respect.

That little girl is little no more, she dreams not of travelling the  world with her significant better half. She has her younger life, takes it as a pleasure privellege to look after him, and that is her first priority, no matter what!

She is a proud sister,  I’m the proud sister.

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