I saw him for a brief moment. This was many years ago. I was transferring trains at a crowded local station in Mumbai. Switching to the next platform involved climbing a tall staircase, crossing over, and climbing down another. I had barely a minute to make it to the next platform. Clutching my backpack, I ran up the stairs. I was almost out of breath. It was at the top that I saw him. A blind man with a stick in his hand. Carrying a child on his shoulders,around four or five years old. With a scared woman, probably his wife, clutching his arm, half-withdrawing behind him. The man was calm. He was not rushed. He was feeling his way forward, carrying his child and leading his family to the platform. He was like an elephant walking with measured steps in the middle of scurrying ants. The feeling that bubbled up in me was respect. Rather than resigning himself to his fate, here he was, staring it right in the eye with a resolve that could not be shaken. Both his child and his wife h...