A Question of Priority...?
It was a cold wintry Sunday morning and I was sitting with a hot cup of coffee. It was early and unusual for me to have woken up, for I am a habitual late riser. A perfect calm prevailed all around. I had come out of bed realizing it futile to continue lying any more because sleep was eluding me and I thought better to give up.
As I sat and sipped, a sense of disquiet, I did not remember to have experienced earlier, filled in me making me uncomfortable. Though aware of my wife sitting in the nearby sofa, I preferred to remain oblivious of her presence. Finding myself unable to bear even the minimum of conversation I allowed the cool silence to prevail.
Moments passed by and I must have dozed off again, as I came to senses with a jerk. The telephone bell was ringing with a little ferocity, for it compelled me into action. I snatched the receiver from its hook with a little annoyance. Who could it be so early in this winter, I prolonged the action of bringing the receiver to my ears and ultimately managed to whisper a hoarse hello in an unwelcome manner.
The voice at the other end was calm and clear, though appeared hesitant. Apparently it was a young voice. As I encouraged him to have his say, he expressed his desire to meet me as quickly as I would allow him to without elaborating as to the possible reason for the proposed meeting. Though keen to know what it was that he wanted to meet me for, I yielded when he appeared pleading and insistent, with little urgency in his voice.
Wide awake then and in possession of all my faculties I allowed him an audience as early as he could manage to reach my residence from wherever he was calling. This over, I sat and relaxed and as I started reflecting, I found myself waiting for his arrival so keenly as if it was the sole purpose of my existence at the moment.
At long last he arrived; the bell rang and by a spring action I managed to open the door wide. There he stood, smiling mildly, waiting to be called in. A tall, handsome, well attired boy in late teens, a little impatient to enter. I invited him in and in seconds he made himself comfortable in the sofa to which I had motioned him to sit.
Without indulging in formalities, I placed myself in the sofa opposite to him and came to the point straight away. Under my full questioning glare, he explained that he came from Jaipur, that he rang me up from the station itself, and that the matter he proposed to discuss was very important for him. Relieved that it had nothing to do with me, but concerned a young life I became all ears while nodding my assent to proceed.
He mentioned that in an article that he had read in a national daily recently the latest developments in the field of treatment of failing vision were reported. Some scientist had reportedly succeeded in developing a tiny computerized device that could be implanted in the eye in a manner that it would become possible for it to transfer perceived images to the inner wall of the retina to restore the vision lost due to the retinal dysfunction.
The development was commendable. Yet, I could not relate the whole thing to me until he mentioned that the article in which this developed was reported was authored by me. Suddenly the story lashed at me in a flashback. I remembered how a number of years back a junior colleague of mine whom I had helped to shape up as a science writer of substance, was detected suffering from retinitis pigmentosa, a deadly disease of eyes in which the pigment of the retina gets gradually eroded to destroy for ever the capacity of the eyes to see. There was no known cure of the disease. We had scanned meticulously all the documented research results on the subject and consulted experts throughout the world. A lot of literature was collected in the process and I had taken to writing on the subject since then.
When all his hopes to find a cure of pigmentosa anywhere in the world turned to despair, I saw him struggling to adjust with the curse, valiantly at first, and then slowly succumbing under the relentless onslaught of the advancing disease. He opted out of struggle rather abruptly. One day he simply took his life to get out of the agony.
And here, sitting before me, was another young man, eighteen years of age, describing how he, some time back, came to realize that something was wrong with his vision. The doctors he consulted told him that the disease he is suffering from may turn him completely blind fifteen ears hence; by the time he attains thirty three years of age. How and whether at all, he wanted to know the developments I had reported in the article could be of help to him. He had come all the way from Jaipur to find it out. His fight with the disease was already on.
I kept quiet, perhaps for a long time, because I did not know the answer myself. Such solutions as were reported in the article gave only an indication of the shape of things to come as a distant possibility, that too for those who may afford the enormous cost of the gadgetry involved. The information was not of immediate relevance. In fact with only a casual research going on in this field it would be surprising if any worthwhile cure came to be reported soon. It happened to be a low priority area for organized research in this country and elsewhere.
Why, I wondered, such areas which have immediate possibility of bringing solace to thousands of individuals are considered low priority while those which bring disaster to masses are high priority for organized research. How long man will continue to prefer instruments of destruction over technologies of health and happiness and peace and tranquility? How much more time our civilization will take to attain the level of maturity required to set our priorities right.
One thought which continued to strike my mind with full force was that somehow this young man should not lose the struggle he has already started. There must be a way to make him adjust with the curse. Hope for him should not turn into despair. The onus to keep his hopes alive is on the immediate family and friends, but their success will depend on their understanding the implications of the personal crisis in his life and to help minimize their impact on him. He should stick out as long as life permits, for as it has often happened in history, perhaps in this case also an enthusiastic, sane individual researcher may come out with a solution sooner rather than later.
Somehow, to me it still seems certain, that for a very long time to come, the brighter side of this world will continue to be shaped by only those individuals who are closer to being the real human beings, howsoever small their number may be.
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