WHAT WE LOST WHEN WE GAINED?

I became blind at ten, and after a year’s stay home, joined a special school to resume my studies. I learnt Braille, and in three month’s time knew to read and write both Tamil and English (including shorthand).

At that time, I never envisaged there was yet another phase in a visually impaired’s life, that is, digital.

Throughout schooling, I studied exclusively in Braille. There were just five-six subjects to study, and I bought Braille notes from the special printing presses. They weren’t only available, but also affordable given the less number of subjects. So it wasn’t an uphill task availing myself of the notes. But when I placed foot at college, the scene entirely changed.

Entering college, my friend and I realised the inevitability of dropping Braille-slates and styluses for computer with screen-readers. Even class lectures, most of us preferred recording devices like Angel-readers or Ipods to taking down in Braille. The transition wasn’t without reasons. First up, there was plenty to study, and converting notes to Braille was neither affordable nor practicable. Secondly, at school, we were given papers which were already used by sighted students to punch Braille; which isn’t the case at college.

Days passing, we valued the advantages of technology. We stored as many materials as we needed in computers, and recorded class lectures and rewound the recordings at home to revise. Everyone leastwise afforded a netbook, and so providing for and preserving study materials became lot easier. Due to indiscriminate accessibility, sharing materials among friends was possible. But if we wanted to preserve Braille materials, we must lug the bulky Braille rolls wherever we went. Briefed all these gains, still we lost something, what is it?

I was disappointed seeing my friend write, ‘disopoint’ for ‘disappoint.’ Well, this is what we lost, right spelling for words. In case of the sighted, they see and read so they’re able to visualize each word mentally and recall it correctly. Previously, we read Braille by touching so we remembered right spelling by heart. Whereas we don’t let the screen-reader read words letter-wise; even if we did so, it’s not natural. For instance, we’re not going to read a rambling David Copperfield letter by letter.

Loss isn’t always a bachelor. We’ve grown weak in pronunciation. Listening to the screen-readers, we’ve put ourselves at receiving end by letting them din at our ears. In reading Braille, we usually found our voice out and practiced orthoepy. Thus, in losing Braille, we’ve lost both writing and pronouncing right.

What should we learn from these lessons? Though ridding computers is touch too quixotic, we should maximise the chances of using Braille. We can develop a habit of reading and writing Braille consistently. Doing so, we’ll taste fruits great and worthy. We’ll ward off the humiliation of being poor in language.