The Sight of Three Stripes

A busload of blind children rises at dawn, too excited to sleep before their maybe once-in-a-year field trip. Among them is Asha -- mute, seven or eight, hair bunched under a maroon cap -- who playfully discovers she can avoid walking by standing atop a volunteer's feet. Through temple visits, river splashing, and carnival rides, she claims this volunteer as her anchor. On the evening bus ride home, a luminous scene emerges. Asha wakes and works her way up the aisle, feeling the legs of sleeping passengers until she finds the right pair: track pants with three raised stripes. "Her shoulders relaxed and she clambered onto my lap where she quickly fell asleep". They ride home this way -- hand in hand, his sciatic nerve screaming, neither one moving. Love, it turns out, doesn't need eyes to see or words to speak. It just needs three stripes and the willingness to stay still.