From the Eye of My Mind , livre ebook

Random House Publishers India Pvt. Ltd. - TGC Prasad

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121 pages

English

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I am eighteen years old and five feet six inches tall. I have big eyes, long fingers, and I am healthy because I eat my food on time. I also have a mole on my left palm. Grandma says, 'Mole on the palm is bad luck.' Eric Hoffer, an American writer said, 'A great man's greatest good luck is to die at the right time.' I wondered what a right time to die was? I feel I have an eye in my mind and I close it when I am with strangers. Mallika is autistic and lives in a strangely whimsical yet ordered world of her own. When her mother breaks the news to her that her beloved elder brother Ananth is going to get married, Mallika's fragile world collapses. How will she deal with a stranger in her home and life? Told in an inimitable style, From the Eye of My Mind is a charming tale of acceptance, love, and a beautiful mind.

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Publié par	Random House Publishers India Pvt. Ltd.
Date de parution	12 décembre 2012
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9788184003697
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0480€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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Praise for the Book
Simple, light, and yet poignantly intense - Kiran Bedi, Social activist and retired IPS officer
Captures meaningfulness in a world of a different kind -V.R. Ferose, Managing Director, SAP Labs India
A beautiful mind, a beautiful book. This story will stay with you for a long long time! - Joy Bhattacharya, CEO, Kolkata Knight Riders (KKR)
This book is a beautiful window that lets you peep into another world of beauty, insight, and emotions -Jayashri Ramnath, Carnatic music vocalist
A fascinating book that unfolds many layers of autistic thinking - Vani Rajendra, Founder Trustee, Peacock Foundation

Published by Random House India in 2012
Copyright TGC Prasad 2012
Random House Publishers India Private Limited Windsor IT Park, 7th Floor, Tower-B A-1, Sector-125, Noida-201301, U.P.
Random House Group Limited 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road London SW1V 2SA United Kingdom
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author s and publisher s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB ISBN 9788184003697
For parents of special children
To the world, you are another parent. But for your special child, you are the world! TGC Prasad
A Note from the Author
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of my imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, institutions, companies, locales, and events is entirely coincidental.
I am grateful to the special children, parents, teachers, caregivers, counsellors, physicians, and psychiatrists for sharing their world with me. Without inputs from them, this book would not have been possible.
I would like to thank Rev. Prof. P.S. Satsangi Sahab for his continual guidance.
Special thanks to my parents, for the many stories they told us in our childhood. Rishi has been an absolute source of joy and keeps me going. Thanks to Savi for giving me the space and time to write. Our home keeper Kala needs a special mention for taking care of all of us, and Mahesh, my driver, for running all the errands.
A portion of earnings from this book will be donated to institutions that help special children.
Contents
Bag has Three Zippers
1950 Model
Stupid Pigeons are Pooping Everywhere
Red Bus on the Kerb
Coffee, Please
Ob-la-di Ob-la-da
Hammurabi s Code
Orange is for the Letter E
French Open
Even Monkeys Fall from Trees
Social Rule Book
My Letter to You is Over
About the Author
Bag has Three Zippers
never know what kind of a morning I m going to wake up to. When the night wind stopped, the sun crept up from between the leaves of our neem tree in the front yard and filtered in through the curtains of my room, I woke up. It was a bright morning. I was okay with that. Many people wear dark glasses on bright mornings, but I don t. I like the light, the greenery, and the trees. When the trees sway with the cool breeze, it makes me feel nice.
Often, I talk to the big neem tree. A passerby once saw me talking to the tree and he stopped walking and started to stare at me.
I had toast for breakfast, I was saying to the neem tree.
Are you talking to the tree? the passerby asked.
I ignored the passerby and told the neem tree that I also had cereals for breakfast.
Are you really talking to the tree? he asked again.
I showed him my tongue. He smiled and stuck out his tongue too. I continued talking to the tree and he said, Are you crazy?
I showed him my tongue again.
He shook his head and said, This generation is really weird, and walked away.
I smiled. I don t understand why people have to know what I do. I never ask them what they do.
On this bright morning, I decided to download pictures from the Internet, which I do almost every day. I look at the pictures for a long time and read whatever is written about them. I read whatever I come across. Recently, I read the IKEA furniture catalogue. In one of the pages, I came across a picture of a beige sofa with blue and white striped cushions. The caption read: It s all about ideas. I couldn t understand how a sofa and ideas were related but then there are so many things I don t understand. It doesn t bother me though.
Today, I came across a picture of Audrey Hepburn. I looked at her picture. She was thin and sported a boyish haircut. Then I looked at another picture of hers where she had a lot of hair on her head. I wondered how somebody could grow so much hair in such a short period. She was probably wearing a wig, in other words, she was wearing borrowed hair. Because what is not really ours but is in our possession is usually borrowed. I printed the picture and the description.

Audrey Hepburn was a British actress. She died in 1993. Her favourite movie was Roman Holiday where she played the role of Princess Ann, who meets Gregory Peck, an American newsman and falls in love with him.
The meaning of love is caring about somebody intensely, and I don t fall in love because for me accepting new people is difficult, though I am comfortable with Swati, my schoolmate and neighbour.
I glued the picture in my book. One of the eighteen picture books that I own. Whenever a book gets over, Pa buys me a new one. I like to show my picture book to Swati, Subbu, Ananth, Pa, and Ma. Sometimes when I take it school, I show it to Sister Alka too.
After seeing my pictures, Swati often has something to say and at times asks me questions related to the picture. Sometimes I have answers and often I don t understand what she asks, but it doesn t bother either of us.
I like Swati.
She visits me quite often. She can visit me anytime except when I am doing my own things.
She is a not a stranger because I know her for ten years.
Swati can t walk because she is on wheelchair. She told me she has cerebral palsy-a physical disability, but she talks and giggles most of the time.
She is short and is sixteen years old. That is what she told me, which makes her two years younger than me.
I think she must be five feet two inches tall but I m not sure because she sits most of the time.
She parts her hair in the centre and wears her hair in a plait.
Swati always wears a dot on her forehead, which I never do because I don t like it.
She wears nail polish and I don t like to.
Swati enjoys reading books, but then she doesn t read telephone directories, catalogues, and menu cards like I do.
Whenever I am with myself and not in my mind, I sing songs. I listen to the same bands all the time. Elvis, Boney M. The Beatles, Abba, Eric Clapton, and Eagles. I ve listened to all their songs and watched most of their videos too. I sing the same song all day and sometimes for a few days. For the last few days, I have been singing Elvis s Heartbreak Hotel .
Well, since my baby left me Well, I found a new place to dwell Well, it s down at the end of Lonely Street At Heartbreak Hotel
Elvis Aaron Presley is the king of rock n roll. I flipped through my picture book and found the note on Elvis.

Elvis Presley is also called The King. He is one of the most well known American singers of the twentieth century. He was nominated for fourteen Grammy awards and won thrice. At the age of thirty-six, he received the Grammy Life Time Achievement Award. In 1977, he died, at the age of forty-two, because of a prescription drug overdose.
Last year I sang this song for Children s Day in front of all my classmates. I had twenty-six classmates last year, then two died and now we have twenty-four. When I was singing, some of them didn t listen to me; they looked here and there. Five of them clapped. Others were colouring, sleeping, reading, and copying. Some smiled at me. After I finished, I wanted to sing again but Sister Alka said, You shouldn t sing the same song twice in front of the same audience. So I went and sat in my chair.

Ma came into the room and sat next to me on the bed, which made a creaking sound. I often lie underneath the bed and stare at the large plank that rests on the grooved edges. It makes me feel safe.
You ve been singing the same song for days now. I am bored of it. Why don t you sing something else?
I stopped singing.
Ma started to straighten the folds of the bedsheet. I noticed that Ma had lines on her forehead.
Ma has a round face. Her skin is whiter than Pa s and she smiles quite often.
She likes it when things are in order, when everything happens as per schedule. In a way, she is like me, when it comes to routines.
At times she has lines on her forehead, I think that is when she is in her mind, thinking about something.
She always wears saris and mostly of the colours blue, red, yellow and green, and she matches her blouses with the colour of the sari.
I want to tell you something, she said.
I kept looking at the white wall behind her. I like the colour white; it makes me think of white swans gliding effortlessly. I wish I could be a swan and glide on water like them. I wish I could be as white as they are. I am brown, wheat-ish actually. Ma calls me her fair girl .
That is a lie.
People lie a lot. I find it difficult to lie. When I try to, I end up laughing instead.
I am anything but fair.
I am eighteen years old and five feet six inches tall.
I have big eyes, long fingers, and I am healthy because I eat my food on time and I drink three bottles of water every day.
I part my hair in the centre and occasionally to the left when Ma insists. I used to have long hair but Ma said, I can t manage it for you anymore , and last summer, she chopped it to just above my shoulder. I am fine with it.
I h