Preeti Monga - The Other Senses: An Inspiring True Story of a Visually Impaired Woman and Her Road to Success

THE
OTHER
SENSES

OTHER LOTUS TITLES

THE
OTHER
SENSES

AN INSPIRING TRUE STORY OF

A VISUALLY IMPAIRED WOMAN

AND HER ROAD

TO SUCCESS

Preeti Monga

Lotus Collection

Preeti Monga, 2012

All rights reserved. No part of this publication
may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any
means, without the prior permission of the publisher.

First published in 2012

The Lotus Collection
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Roli Books Pvt. Ltd
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Layout: Sanjeev Mathpal
Production: Shaji Sahadevan
Cover design: Bonita Vaz-Shimray

ISBN: 978-81-7436-908-6

Dedicated to all
who have made me
and
this book possible.

O n a chilly Saturday evening in December 2007, we arrived at EDM Mall in East Delhi, where we were to watch a much talked about Hindi movie. Jumping out of our newly bought car, my husband Ashwani and I raced cheerfully towards the multiplex, when we plunged headlong into another of our humorous, on road, episodes.

The piercing breeze charged our energy and sense of excitement, as we sped into the warm ambience of the multiplex. Once indoors, Ashwani swiftly handed me over to the lady deputed at the security check counter near the entrance, and hurried through with his own, in order to return at the earliest to escort me to the auditorium. It was nearly time for the film to start, and as we had been caught in an unexpected traffic jam, we raced, arm in arm, at full speed towards the elevator.

As we reached, lo and behold, it suddenly came to a grinding halt, nearly tripping most people in mid-passage! Taken by surprise and disappointed at the evident delay, we began scouting around for an alternative, but before we could move away from the elevator, we noticed that the security guard from the counter we had left behind was approaching us with an expression of acute concern. I have switched off the elevator for madam, he said, pointing in my direction with the greatest sympathy, I saw that madam is holding you and walking as if there is something wrong with her legs; I thought that she would not be able to jump on to the running stairs. At this, chuckling, we reassured the kind and thoughtful gentleman that all was well with my legs, and to wipe off the confused look on his face, informed him of my blindness, which made holding hands a necessity!

This is not the first time my long, shapely, and reasonably fit legs have fallen under suspicion.

It is, however, intriguing, to note why or how people suspect the reliability of my legs. On one occasion, we were on a trip to Ajmer in Rajasthan. I was switching escorts between Ashwani, Prithvi, my nephew, Rachna, my sister-in-law, and my brother, Sandy. When we reached the celebrated and historic Ajmer Sharif shrine, here too the ability of my legs was once more questioned, and this, while I was energetically climbing up and down the ancient stairs to touch various objects in order to be able to see them. It must be a bit puzzling I expect. As it is said, I dont look blind! There must certainly be some degree of truth in this, because on the following day, we were at Jaipur City Palace, where I once again became the cause of a heated argument between fellow tourists and the security guards. I had obtained special permission to enter the cordoned-off area to be able to see with my hands, the worlds largest silver water pitcher displayed there. Spotting Prithvi and me sort of messing around on forbidden ground with the silver pitcher, a group of tourists jumped the rope barrier to join us. They were immediately stopped by the security guard, which sparked a verbal battle. Are those two your relatives, or have they bribed you to allow them in? They screamed, without giving him an opportunity to respond, We too wish to go and touch that thing there; why are you preventing us and permitting those two in? The guard at last got a word in, informing them of my inability to see the pitcher without touching it due to my blindness. Paying no heed to the poor guards explanation, they argued on, Even we want to touch and see it; you simply must allow us too. Anyhow, we dont believe you; she looks fine to us, and there is something fishy going on here. Finally, my family stepped in and salvaged the situation, while I surveyed the beautiful silver pitcher, guided by Prithvi, marvelling at the huge piece of art, and tracing my fingers over the exquisitely carved handles and lid.

I cant move on without relating just one more of the many hilarious incidents that I have experienced. The other evening, I was travelling back alone by air to Delhi from Ahmedabad, when the young ground assistant of Jet Airways, deputed to help me, trotted off briskly with my hand luggage tugging at the arm of the driver who had brought me to the airport, rather than mine. Later, when the confusion had been sorted out, she sweetly muttered to me, Madam, I was completely baffled when I saw the two of you standing as you have such a wonderful dress sense; I could never have imagined that it could have been you who needed assistance. I thought the man with you was blind. I profusely apologize for the goof-up.