A Shock and A Realization

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The other day, at a traffic light I was thinking about how it always seemed to be red and the resulting annoyance that stemmed from the wait. As the car moved on (slowly because of some disturbance ahead), my sight fell upon a young man on a motor bike right at the front of the line at the perpendicular junction.

At first, the impression was not clear and instinctively I looked again, arching my neck back a little as the car moved forward (now speeding up). It must have been an issue with my eyes because what I thought I saw at first glance couldn't possibly be real. This was the shock. At second glance, it turned out my eyes were in perfect working condition. And this is what I saw...


A man, maybe in mid twenties, on a regular motor bike, normal on all accounts, waiting for the traffic light to turn green, ordinarily dressed, except his face. It was so strangely deformed, that I thought it couldn't have been, hence my second glance.

The right side was grotesquely swollen and devoid of any distinguishable features. The colour was also off, reddish pinkish. That part of his face overwhelmed the normal half to such an extent that it was of hardly any consolation. The flesh was all dimpled and appeared to be thicker than usual, which is why it was also bigger in size than the other half of it. In all my life, I had never seen such a horrible and sad sight. The shock was indescribable.

A multitude of thoughts crossed my mind. The above description lasted for maybe 10 seconds. By this time my car had moved on, he was gone, a part of history never to be remembered again. But I wasn't going to let that happen. I thought I must commemorate this fellow. Because in the few seconds that it took me to overcome the shock, the next few moments unveiled an epiphany that hit me like a truck in full gear.

What a brave man to face the world head on! Was he like this from birth? Or had he known a normal existence? There he stood, balancing his bike, seemingly not a care about his misshapen tragic face.

Imagine

His childhood
The bullying
The name-calling
The hate
The repulsive stares
The pity
The existence of mirrors
The inability to make friends
The judgement
The frustration
The ridicule
The depression
His parents?
His family?
His work place?

There he stood, on his way to somewhere, to do something, standing at the head of the line of cars, not a care in the world, checking his balance, ready to move swiftly on.

I can't be sure, but I thought grimly, he must surely have the most beautiful soul in the world. He must be the most courageous and forth righteous person out there.

It was so humbling an experience. What was existence like for him? Not near pleasant I can conclude. But from the looks of it, he was a survivor.

That's what human strength is. There are bucket loads of it in all of us, but it is untapped due to lack of motivation. It's not our moments of comfort that define us, but our attitude in tribulations. We all have in us so much to give to people, so much love, so much compassion, if we wish to do so. We have each of us within us boundless amounts of courage and the power to do good, so where does all the negativity come from? But such is life.

As for me? Today I'm just happy my mirror agrees with me.

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