Complex communication is one of the biggest factors that sets us humans apart from other life forms; yet we often tend to associate communication with speech, and inextricably so, almost relegating the many other ways in which we communicate to the background.
What does this entail for those of us who cannot communicate verbally, or for those of us for whom speech is not a reliable mode of communication?
It certainly doesn’t mean that we have nothing to say!
Instead, what we need is a dynamic alternative way to express ourselves—something that goes beyond gestures and pictures and opens up the world of communication.
Hi, I am Aditi Sowmyanarayan, your friendly neighbourhood author and storyteller. Incidentally, I am an AAC user myself, and I use the text-to-speech feature of Avaz on my iPad to communicate.
Today, I am going to tell you a tale—a tale about a vacation, a mishap, and thoughts in retrospect.
This is the tale of nine-year-old Ananya, a petite and pleasantly chubby little girl with a big imagination and a love for travelling to tall mountains and beautiful valleys.
It was the month of May—the month when the intense golden rays of the sun, shining in all their glory, are interrupted by the occasional thunderstorm, followed by heavy rain that quenches the thirst of the parched land. It is also the month when most schools in our country close for the summer vacation.
Ananya and her parents set off on a long drive to Coorg, the clean and green paradise that was a mere six-hour drive from their home in Bengaluru. Ananya was excited at the prospect of staying in a resort surrounded by rainforest, and when the family reached their destination, they were not disappointed. The resort was indeed a little green paradise, one that Ananya thoroughly enjoyed exploring.
The next day, Ananya’s parents decided to visit Talacauvery, the spring high in the mountains from which the River Cauvery originates. Off they went, climbing further into the hills.
The place did not disappoint. If anything, the fact that such a mighty river traced its origin to a gentle spring piqued Ananya’s curiosity.
What also did not disappoint was the swelling holiday crowd. Soon, Ananya and her family decided to head back to the resort, which was a good two-and-a-half hours away. That also meant stopping somewhere along the way for lunch. Being vegetarian, however, meant that the options were few and far between.
After what seemed like an eternity waiting in a noisy and crowded restaurant, the food that finally arrived was badly cooked and barely palatable. Ananya felt increasingly restless, even as she forced herself to eat a little before hurrying outside.
As she made a dash out of the crowded eatery, she failed to notice the single step near the entrance and fell.
Ananya shrieked.
The pain was intense—unlike anything she had ever experienced before.
She tried to get up, but no matter how hard she tried, she could not move her right leg. The searing pain had taken on a life of its own, even as the area above her ankle began to swell.
Ananya wanted to scream,
“Help! Something is seriously wrong! This pain is unbearable, and I am scared!”
But all she could do was cry until her voice grew hoarse.
Such was the impact of autism.
Through all the ups and downs of life, Ananya had never been able to get a single word out, no matter how hard she tried. Why would it be any different now, in the midst of such intense pain and trauma?
The excruciating drive to the local orthopaedic doctor confirmed her worst fears.
It was indeed a full-blown fracture—one that required her leg to remain in a cast for six long weeks.
Ananya froze in fear as a million questions swarmed her mind with the intensity of honeybees searching for a place to build their hive.
Alas, she had no way to express her fear or seek reassurance that she would be able to walk normally again.
The drive back home, and the weeks that followed, passed in a haze. One theme stood out above everything else: anxiety.
Anxiety that multiplied exponentially in the absence of a reliable mode of communication, leaving Ananya feeling numb.
Was it her hypersensitive senses?
Or did recovering from a fractured leg really feel this painful for everyone?
Ananya would never know.
She simply had no way to ask.
Six weeks passed, and Ananya’s leg healed well. Slowly, she returned to her familiar routines at school and at home.
What remained, however, was the trauma of unanswered questions—and a deep yearning for a reliable way to express herself.
Human communication goes far beyond expressing needs or pointing to things we want. Not having a way to communicate anything beyond the obvious can leave one feeling deeply claustrophobic.
This, dear reader, is the thought I want to leave you with.
If you are the parent of a non-speaking autistic child, or a professional working with one, please consider introducing a dynamic and reliable alternative mode of communication.
Introducing AAC does not take away the initiative to speak.
If anything, it gives us the freedom to communicate the million things we long to say—and helps us live our best lives.
Connect with Aditi Sowmyanarayanan: Sowmyanarayanaditi@gmail.com
