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A Visit to Cambridge
Before you read
This is the story of a meeting between two extraordinary people, both of them ‘disabled’, or ‘differently abled’ as we now say. Stephen Hawking is one of the greatest scientists of our time. He suffers from a form of paralysis that confines him to a wheelchair, and allows him to ‘speak’ only by punching buttons on a computer, which speaks for him in a machine-like voice. Firdaus Kanga is a writer and journalist who lives and works in Mumbai. Kanga was born with ‘brittle bones’ that tended to break easily when he was a child. Like Hawking, Kanga moves around in a wheelchair.
The two great men exchange thoughts on what it means to live life in a wheelchair, and on how the so called ‘normal’ people react to the disabled. Cambridge was my metaphor for England, and it was strange that when I left it had become altogether something else, because I had met Stephen Hawking there. It was on a walking tour through Cambridge that the guide mentioned Stephen Hawking, ‘poor man, who is quite disabled now, though he is a worthy successor to Issac Newton, whose Chair he has at the university.’ And I started, because I had quite forgotten that this most brilliant and completely paralysed astrophysicist, the author of A Brief History of Time, one of the biggest best-sellers ever, lived here. When the walking tour was done, I rushedto a phone booth and, almost tearing the corso it could reach me outside, phoned StephenHawking’s house. There was his assistant on the line and I told him I had come in a wheelchair from India (perhaps he thought I had propelled myself all the way) to write about my travels in Britain. I had to see Professor Hawking — even ten minutes would do. “Half an hour,“ he said. “From three-thirty to four.”
And suddenly I felt weak all over. Growing up disabled, you get fed up with people asking you to be brave, as if you have a courage account on which you are too lazy to draw a cheque. The only thing that makes you stronger is seeing somebody like you, achieving something huge. Then you know how much is possible and you reach out further than you ever thought you could.
“I haven’t been brave,” said his disembodied computer-voice, the next afternoon. “I’ve had no choice.” Surely, I wanted to say, living creatively with the reality of his disintegrating body was a choice? But I kept quiet, because I felt guilty every time I spoke to him, forcing him to respond. There he was, tapping at the little switch in his hand, trying to find the words on his computer with the only bit of movement left to him, his long, pale fingers. Every so often, his eyes would shut in frustrated exhaustion. And sitting opposite him I could feel his anguish, the mind buoyant with thoughts that came out in frozen phrases and sentences stiff as corpses.
“A lot of people seem to think that disabled people are chronically unhappy,” I said. “I know that’s not true myself. Are you often laughing inside?” About three minutes later, he responded, “I find it amusing when people patronise me.”
“And do you find it annoying when someone like me comes and disturbs you in your work?” The answer flashed. “Yes.” Then he smiled his oneway smile and I knew, without being sentimental or silly, that I was looking at one of the most beautiful men in the world.
A first glimpse of him is shocking, because he is like a still photograph — as if all those pictures of him in magazines and newspapers have turned three-dimensional. Then you see the head twisted sideways into a slump, the torso shrunk inside the pale blue shirt, the wasted legs; you look at his eyes which can speak, still, and they are saying something huge and urgent — it is hard to tell what. But you are shaken because you have seen something you never thought could be seen.
Before you, like a lantern whose walls are worn so thin you glimpse only the light inside, is theincandescence of a man. The body, almost irrelevant, exists only like a case made of shadows. So that I, no believer in eternal souls, know that this is what each of us is; everything else an accessory. “What do you think is the best thing about being disabled?” I had asked him earlier. “I don’t think there is anything good about being disabled.” “I think,” I said, “you do discover how much kindness there is in the world.” “Yes,” he said; it was a disadvantage of his voice synthesiser that it could convey no inflection, no shades or tone. And I could not tell how enthusiastically he agreed with me.
Every time I shifted in my chair or turned my wrist to watch the time — I wanted to make every one of our thirty minutes count — I felt a huge relief an exhilaration in the possibilities of my body. How little it mattered then that I would never walk, or even stand. Comprehension Check Which is the right sentence?
1. “Cambridge was my metaphor for England.” To the writer,
(i) Cambridge was a reputed university in England.
(ii) England was famous for Cambridge.
(iii) Cambridge was the real England.
2. The writer phoned Stephen Hawking’s house
(i) from the nearest phone booth.
(ii) from outside a phone booth.
(iii) from inside a phone booth.
3. Every time he spoke to the scientist, the writer felt guilty because
(i) he wasn’t sure what he wanted to ask.
(ii) he forced the scientist to use his voice synthesiser.
(iii) he was face to face with a legend.
4. “I felt a huge relief... in the possibilities of my body.” In the given context, the highlighted words refer to
(i) shifting in the wheelchair, turning the wrist.
(ii) standing up, walking.
(iii) speaking, writing.
Working with the text
Answer the following questions.
1. (i) Did the prospect of meeting Stephen Hawking make the writer nervous? If so, why?
(ii) Did he at the same time feel very excited? If so, why?
2. Guess the first question put to the scientist by the writer.
3. Stephen Hawking said, “I’ve had no choice.” Does the writer think there was a choice? What was it?
4. “I could feel his anguish.” What could be the anguish?
5. What endeared the scientist to the writer so that he said he was looking at one of the most beautiful men in the world?
6. Read aloud the description of ‘the beautiful’ man. Which is the most beautiful sentence in the description?
7. (i) If ‘the lantern’ is the man, what would its ‘walls’ be?
(ii) What is housed within the thin walls?
(iii) What general conclusion does the writer draw from this comparison?
8. What is the scientist’s message for the disabled?
9. Why does the writer refer to the guitar incident? Which idea does it support?
10. The writer expresses his great gratitude to Stephen Hawking. What is the gratitude for?
11. Complete the following sentences taking their appropriate parts from both the boxes below.
(i) There was his assistant on the line ...
(ii) You get fed up with people asking you to be brave, ...
(iii) There he was, ...
(iv) You look at his eyes which can speak, ...
(v) It doesn’t do much good to know ...
Please refer to attached file for NCERT Class 8 English A Visit to Cambridge