Being able to read, even for four minutes

I rushed out of the house. While I was running towards the subway, I was planning the lesson I was going to give to the students, while trying not to get wet in the drizzle. I went down the escalator to the metro station. Two or three minutes were left for the train to arrive. If I missed this train, I would have to wait another ten minutes and I would be late for my class. I started to tighten my steps, almost to run. If I didn't have a bag, maybe I would run.

In the subway, the sound of "tack, clack, clack" coming from the long stick in the hand of someone walking in the same direction as me, made me forget my anxiety and thoughts in my head. Obviously, he was in a hurry, too. With his big bag on his back and his staff in his hand, he was walking almost as fast as me. After looking carefully, I realized that this person was a woman and also a 'visually impaired'. I said to myself, “I wonder why his fuss is?” I asked. Perhaps he had never seen the world. Although he advances alone with his disability; His demeanor and gait gave him the appearance of a very confident person. Was he in a hurry?

For a moment I forgot everything. It started to move as if everything was in slow motion. Perhaps it was a sign of his determination to live, that he could understand the obstacles that might come his way by controlling his left and right with his stick, and paving the way for himself. I felt we were approaching the stairs. “I wonder if I should help him down the stairs?” As she thought, she began to descend the stairs. He came to the end of the stairs as if the world was flat and there were no obstacles in his way. I wonder if there was something on the tip of her stick that was guiding her, or was this lady playing a joke? While I was trying to gather my thoughts, I realized that the subway had come to a stop.

My curiosity drew me to this lady and I got into the same compartment as her. Once she settled into her seat, she folded up her staff and quickly placed it in the front of her bag. She tried to pull out something large by opening another compartment of her bag. While I was wondering if he was going to pull out a radio or something like food and drink, I felt pity rising in my heart. Maybe how badly she wanted to see the world; trees, houses, vehicles, people and eyes… There was so much to see…

For that moment, I felt very privileged. The eye was a window to the world and I did not appreciate them much. But she was telling me how much they meant.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when I noticed something like a book that the lady took out of her purse. I was going to say if it was a catalog he had published, but it occurred to me that he was blind. As she said she, she stopped in one place, flipping through the pages, probing with the tips of her fingers. She had found the page she was looking for anyway. Immediately she began to run the index and middle fingers of her right hand over the raised marks.

He was reading a book… But he did not see that… I was immersed for a few seconds… Wasn't reading a book only for those who see? I understood… Now he was reading with his heart, emotions and soul, not with his eyes… And I was ashamed of myself. I thought of the book I've been carrying in my bag for months and haven't read much except for three or five pages, and those who haven't read a book for years.

I wish they, too, could have witnessed this sight that makes people think and even embarrass them.

There are millions of people in the world… But reading… Why me… I was suddenly snapped out of my thoughts. He had finished reading one page and had moved on to another page. The way he deftly ran his fingers over the raised markings showed that he was adept at the job. So he was a good reader.

But what could he read? It was perhaps not possible to prepare thousands of books, magazines and newspapers for the visually impaired on a daily or weekly basis.

With the warning of the announcement, I realized that I had come to the stop where I was going to get off. Only four minutes had passed and it was very important to read a book even in such a short time. The blind woman who taught me this lesson was getting ready to put her book in her bag and get off at the bus stop. Soon the train stopped. I waited for him to land first. She was advancing with her staff with the voices of “tack…tack…tack…” among all the people. I looked behind him for a few seconds and it was as if those knock-knocks coming out of the stick were echoing in my brain, “read… read… read… and be thankful”…