"... the mother began to lead a Spartan life. She got up a 4 A.M. finished her bath and half her cooking and then prepared a 'goal' for the day. By 7 o'clock the boy was up. After breakfast, the task began. There was no chance for the boy to get lost in his thoughts. 'Pick up the thing'! If the boy tried to look away she hit him hard. That went on for days together. It worked...

     In Europe, good neighbours would report Mukho's mother to the police.
     Myself, was blood-beaten only once by my mother. As you (or don't?) know, autistic kids don't hear when they are doing or looking, (that the explanation of our extra ordinary knack for problem-solving). It is probable that my mother shouted me without results. But I admit that many times, I heard and didn't want to change my occupation, (we don't like changes): I was building a new, better, world, (for me). So, one she sent boys for me and I was very rude. I fled in the fields. The boys took long staffs. In that time, insulting one's parents was sinning against the Bible, God and the State, the first step to rob banks and killing policemen.
     Any way, I'm the proof that we are very intelligent: I did not need another kicking. But there is a proof that I did worse? How to explain that, after being totally separated from each other, during 30 years, she could wrote: "When he was young, he never care for others..."
     Arthur, my "autistwin" with the same difficult problems from his mother and the first philosopher to understand true Buddhism), had already solved this Indian mystery, (about 1813, in his Phi Doctorate):

"Therefore the true title of the Critiques of the Pure Reason... would be "Critiques of occidentalist Theism" - Kant would regard our doctrines of Autism as errors,... merely fixed prejudices implanted in the mind of every European Psychialist before the age of thinking. IN INDIA IT WOULD NEVER HAVE OCCURRED TO KANT TO RECOMMEND RITALIN FOR AUTISM..."

    What should we do now?" asked the parents. - "Try to keep him busy", said the lady, (we should import this lady! not the billingsgate-dermatologist type seeing kids as ideal patients: they don't die but never cure!)
    Sets of other building blocks were brought. The boy made pillars and staircases with them. His mother taught him how two parallel pillars when joined by a bar at the top made a gate. Soon, along with the pillars and gate, the boy was making zigzags also. He also learnt to make patterns with burnt match sticks, for example - rows of squares and crosses. But he was not interested when they joined, head end to tail and to show him the 'train'. The boy did not find that worth building.
    Soon new sets of games were brought. One was 'Mixing Fixing'. The cavities with different shapes were there, and the boy had to fit into them blocks of exact shape. He learnt it fast, and improved his time with it. He eagerly waited for new toys. The next game was a four piece jigsaw puzzle. It took no time for the boy to do it. He waited for the next game.
    By the end of the third week, he was able to handle blocks, shapes and jigsaw puzzles of pieces eight in number. He went to the psychologist for the second time. "I did not expect so much improvement in an autistic child!" said the impressed lady.

"Once upon a time, there was a crow", mother began her story. She drew a crow on a page. The boy loved colours. Although the crow was black, she made the words she wrote look colourful and bright. She began her first lesson through the story about the 'thirsty crow'. It was a well - planned lesson. The boy could actually feel the heat of the midday sun and the dry landscape. The crow became his favourite bird. Black became his favourite colour for a while. He could 'feel' the variety of other colours mocking the darkness of the black.

"I've got a nice little job, just going to the Bank, each end of month, with my little basket..."
"The English doctors tell you: "At most one year but set everything in order within six months." The French say during one year: "This increase of suffering? a sign you are on the good way..." And one morning, Saint Peter brings your breakfast..." Then I concluded: "I'm British!"

"His mother used to sing and he appreciated the songs - words in tune. The songs were memorised and repeated over and over again. His tantrums stopped when he heard the songs. His mother was too relieved to discover it.

Mother Hen after saving him from Back-Fox is inventing a story of Big Crodile eat Little Ducks, because she knows she'll never swim. She has to stay with "specialists" in high diving: from their Varsity-Chair, they prevent Ducky from diving into the water. Let's remember wonderful "mother Bonally" Where is Poetess Minou Drouet? all mothers save and shape their children for themselves, especially priests'mothers, "genitals-cutters", to become the First Lady of the Parish and die, surrounded by the love of the Faithful. After them? it's too late for the boy: no return among the "normals".

Wiener, Orton et Kovarsky, tous convaincus que c'est folie pure de contrarier un gaucher: « Tout se passe à ce moment-là comme si les deux moitiés du cerveau se disputaient pour savoir laquelle des deux sera maîtresse. » Et, pendant ce temps, pendant cette bataille de chiffonniers qui se déroule sous son crâne, on imagine le type qui, en bas, attend que les choses s'arrangent.
    On sait que le bégaiement commence en général à l'âge justement où l'enfant est bien obligé par son entourage de devenir droitier Il est quelques gens qui, toute une vie, ou seulement de courts instants, sont « aveugles » en latéralité. Ils ne savent plus discerner leur main droite de leur main gauche, ils n'ont plus la moindre notion de ces repères. Vous allez penser que cet état ne peut affecter que des êtres démunis de tout, à l'esprit évidé. Bien sûr que vous pensez cela. Tout le monde pense cela. Et c'est une grande erreur. Les « aveugles » de ce type les plus connus s'appelaient Schiller et Freud. Ce dernier définit ainsi sa cécité: « J'ignore si les autres gens situent nettement et immédiatement chez eux et chez les autres leur droite et leur gauche. En ce qui me concerne, il fallait autrefois que je réfléchisse pour savoir où était ma droite, aucune sensation organique ne me l'apprenait. », (la confusion entre droite et gauche est typique de la "prosopamnésie": moi-même, si j'entends, (et avant de dire), "DROITE", je m'enfonce les ongles dans le gras de la main...)
... phrase quasi désespérée de Robert Wiener, créateur de la cybernétique:
« En examinant la valeur de la différence entre les deux hémisphères cérébraux, on peut se demander si nous ne sommes pas parvenus à l'une de ces limitations de la nature qui veut que les organes doués de la spécialisation la plus élevée arrivent bientôt à un niveau où leur efficience décline pour aboutir à l'extinction de l'espèce. »
... telles les mains droite et gauche, distinctes mais coagissantes, une latéralisation physique et une latéralisation morale sont les deux composantes, en relation à une même aptitude essentielle, caractéristiques de l'être humain ».
Du point de vue de Wiener, cela est plutôt rassurant et ferait du gaucher l'avenir de l'homme puisque son cerveau apparaît moins scindé, plus convivial. C'est peut-être juste une remarque sans fondement, une observation aussi gratuite que celles émises par ceux qui proposent non l'éradication des gauchers, mais au moins leur rééducation. ces gens appartiennent à une irréductible catégorie d'individus capable, pour arriver à leurs fins, d'utiliser le P. 38 de la science, de la morale, de la philosophie, de la religion...

1/ "Le gaucher avenir de l'homme?"
Donc le cerveau droit, "avenir de l'homme"?
    chaîne donc, petit génie!I, for one, 'alone!), believe in a correspondence between soft and hard worlds: therefore the ideal would be "ambi-minds" as some are "ambi-hands", probably the case of Léonard da Vinci and me.

2/ Corollaire: nous, autistes,
perdons facilement notre voiture et nous-mêmes:

"... It was already frightening to go to new places and see new roads. He felt miserable when father stopped to talk to somebody. Temper tantrums resulted, and lasted until he got exhausted... Several days later, mother discovered that he would have a fear if they tried a new route. One day he was disturbed to find a different map of clouds overhead. It was a great disappointment, as he had memorised the previous day's sky.

Conclusion, (not the end of the story), by Mukho:

One day I dream that we can grow in a matured society where nobody would be 'normal or abnormal' but just human beings, accepting any other human being - ready to grow together.

    Now, what's in store for little Mukhopadhyay? "An awful life!" predicts Arthur, a dandysopher, satisfied with commenting his treasure-troves troven before he was 25! two meals a day at the English Hotel? Opera at night! imposing his "liturgies" on "Supposed Normal Types"! even your banker sent your monthly pocket money through the same employee! Easy life makes easysophers.
    Personally, till I was 70, I accepted any sufferings "to avoid them for my kids to be born next Millennium..." I've changed, I deeply regret I could not get some jailing I amply deserved.

Chaining avec

le cas de Charlotte, "labelled autist", est peut-être plus important que celui de Mukhopadhyay. Le Professeur Montagner, ("L'enfant acteur de son développement", Stock 1993), serait-il le Docteur Jenner qui introduira l'équivalence soft de la vaccination... De mes contacts avec mes "autistwins", surtout Arthur, j'admets une règle: "une fois cablé, à vie cablé". On ne change pas les moteurs en vol! Alors, Charlotte est-elle redevenue "normale" ou continue-t-elle une évolution différente? qui ne peut aboutir que bien plus haut que très bas,