The Lesson

I grew up in a community within which one was judged not by one's integrity or actions but by one's financial status. In my neighbourhood, every mother rushed to enrol her child in the most exclusive tuition centres regardless of the cost. In my neighbourhood, the poor were not befriended but shunned and treated as outcasts.

Naturally, I grew up believing that the sole aim in life was to obtain good grades that would, eventually, ensure a high-paying job. Fortunately, I discovered at an early age that my brain could live up to my ambitions, and by the time I was 13, I had been dubbed an Einstein and was already contemplating my chances of entering Harvard one day.

Things were not as easy for Omar, my identical twin brother. Omar and I shared the same gangly figure and tousled hair, but 13-year-old Omar had the mental age of a child 10 years younger. His condition was disheartening, and sometimes, tactless strangers would jeer at the way he behaved and spoke. Though I hated the way others treated Omar, secretly, I too thought little of him and didn't think he had anything to offer the world.

Then, one day, Omar disappeared from our home; it wasn't like him to wander off alone, and I was worried - but also irritated that I would have to take time off from the books to look for him. Adding to the irritation as I walked down the street was the rain that began pouring down.

Just as I was about to give up in disgust and go home, I heard the familiar, high-pitched laughter. Omar's laughter. As I turned around the last house on the street, I saw something that stopped me in my tracks. Omar, the brother I thought had nothing to offer the world, was helping old Mrs Ravi cross the street. Mrs Ravi was a blind woman who had been shunned by our neighbourhood after her late husband had been revealed as a criminal.

Omar was holding her hand and leading her across gently, amusing her with his childish jokes along the way. He obviously did not care that her skin was eczema-ravaged, her eyes hollow and blank, her hair untamed, her coat ragged. And she obviously did not care that Omar wasn't the sharpest brain around, it was enough that he was a friend to her.

Standing in the rain watching this scene, I wondered vaguely why the rain water tasted salty as it trickled over my lips. Then I realised that it was mixture of tears and rainwater that trailed down my cheeks. Here was a boy, pitied and looked down upon by others, teaching me one of life's important lessons: do not judge a book by its cover...

By Auro
Published in Starmag