I was in a dilemma. It was '03. Boarding school. My friend was being subjected to a flurry of kicks and punches while prone on the ground. I was watching, dilemma-ing.
30 seconds back, I somehow had an off hand question for another friend, hanging around at our water cooler post dinner.
"Kya kar rahe tum log yahan. Kisi ko marne warne ka plan hai kya"
"Tu dekh", came the terse reply from this friend.
Next, a group of 3, maybe 4 have pounced on my friend, who, though not blameless, shall remain nameless. He's been pulled to the ground and now being kicked as well. I'm wondering can I extract my friend from this mob. Then I'm wondering if I should extract my friend from the mob. How many collateral punches and kicks should I take for this friend.
Moral dilemma still heavy in the air, I extract him and pull him to his room. Miscalculating that his room mate is one of the puncher-kickers. But the violence does tone down to well timed and well aimed slaps. I vouch for both these adverbs since they went past my face, my raised hand, and found my friends face with amazing accuracy. In between this, I'm also appealing to the ample audience for someone to fetch my gang. This takes a while. By then, my friend's kurta is a low V deep neck, revealing a frequently chewed on vest. He's red in the face, but no blood anywhere.
Matters cool down. This is more of what Babur referred in his couplet, "Beware of the inward wound, for ...something and so forth shall shudder the world type thing".
Many felt this beating was a long time coming (my friend himself grudgingly agreed later that night). Even then, a revenge beating was planned. More on that on some other ramble.
20 years later. In a different city, in a different state. Me and a friend, after a tipple, encounter a proud and entitled local auto driver. He happily cancels our ride, earns the deduction fees, and waits for us to alight into the night. We wait in the carriage, arrange for a different transporter, who hopefully doesnt have the same reservations/misgivings against online payments or foreigners or both.
While we wait, our ex-auto driver also alights. Maybe to oblige some pang of conscience even he was shocked to have?? This would soon be proved to the contrary. Me and him stand very close. One would say our personal space venn diagrams over lap heavily. He stares me down, says Eh, right hand drawn into a familiar fist, and spews something in Kannada, clearly in the threatening vein. Me being me, in tandem with Newton's laws of motion, especially the third. (My fav.), oblige with an Eh and our venn diagrams overlap more. Im shoved back. I return with mine. My tshirt is grabbed. I reach for his. The next is a mix of a blur and blackout. Im on the ground at one point. Both shoulders by two of them, a foot pinning down each foot of mine. In the middle, me, holding the auto driver's khaki in a death grip. Next thing I know, Im getting up. I remember thinking, wow, bless the kettle bell swings, that I'm getting up so easily. Not realising a passerby had intervened and was pulling me up. Someone's asking me to let go of his shirt. Im not sure of what I see or dont this past I dont know how many seconds. But I look down at my shirt. Its torn. A deep white decathalon V. But there's no blood. Visible. There are 4-5 taxi/ autodrivers/locals around me. Im being held by two. A fellow non-localite, akin to us, is now in between the mob and me. I receive another monologue in kannada, that turns into a question by the end of it. I have understood nothing hence have no answers. All I do is let go of his shirt and smile doofusly at the auto driver.
While we wait for another transport, my friend calls the app and registers a complaint, demands police action and so on and forth. All while I continue grinning at this auto driver. Now from a distance. He beckons me to return for a beating. I consider it for a moment. My friend stands steadfast, maybe holding my hand. In the cab, she's shaking. She felt powerless and scared. I try to lighten the situation by recounting another time I was in a similar situation. She smiles,indicating that I should should STFU.
Apart from being glad that I was alive, i felt really really alive. In a very fight club sort of a way. The incident was calming, putting things into perspective with a healthy dose of of humility being deposited in lumpsum amounts over my torso.
I return to my city the next morning. Not because of the incident. The flight was pre booked.
I call my friend on my way back home from the airport. First, I apologise for putting her through the ordeal. I should have been more situationally aware. By that I mean, not gotten into a big dick competition, at all. Some things are just good to know, not to show. Then I asked her how it all went down. To quote an iconic dialogue, "Kitne aadmi the". She said most probably more than 3. I was lost beneath a blur of moving parts. She asked me if I could not hear. I hadnt. I told her I dont remember seeing all that well either. I think it was all dark when I was getting up from the ground as well. She said she thought so. We somehow end the conversation on a lighter note.
I'm about to step into a cold shower. I catch myself in the mirror, stop and stare. There a bruise below my eye, right next to my nose. So i was punched. That explains the blackout. Bruises on both my shoulders. Understandable. Some on my ribs, again on both sides. A bonus bruise on my right calf, im guessing from where I went down to the ground and they tried to keep me there. But the biggest loss, my jacket. My precious precious jackets was also ripped in the melee.
Lots of things needed fixing now. The physicality must match the attitude. Or leave it at home. And no other person should be collateral to these incidents.
Much has been said. First rule. First rule. First rule.
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