sufi · Day 146 · Week 21
Surdas's Sight
Your baby cannot see you yet, and you cannot see them — and tonight a blind poet teaches that real seeing has never needed eyes.
I cannot see the world. I have no time. I am too busy seeing Him.
Surdas was born blind. His mother used to say that when he was a baby, his eyes were like two small dark stones, beautiful but closed. His village pitied him. He would never see his mother's face. He would never see the colour of the wheat in the fields. He would never see what the world wished to show him.
But Surdas, from very small, did not seem to need showing. He could tell which neighbour was at the door by the rhythm of their walk. He could tell the time of day by the temperature of the air on his face. He could sing back any song he had heard once. By the time he was a boy, the villagers had stopped pitying him. They had begun, very quietly, to envy him.