I was 14. I
had recently moved out of my parents’ house to study. It was my first time away
from home. I would walk slouched, my eyes down and remain mostly in my room,
studying. I never wandered beyond my locality. I thought I was safe from any
external harm. And I was. From external harm.
I was
returning from a class when I saw the crowd gathered as they usually do, or
rather as they stupidly do. It was broad daylight, the crowd was thin and I was
small. I got through. And I saw. I saw a big, burly, middle aged man beating up
a child. A small, frail, helpless child. He held the child with one arm and was
hitting him with the other. I think of him as a child now. I don't remember
what I thought of him then. But I remember him wearing frayed, oversized clothes. Each time the man
raised his arm to hit I remember a hope growing inside me that he will not hit
the child. He cannot hit the child. Maybe he is just scaring. Maybe he will
soften it. But he did not. He never held back. And with each blow the child
trembled violently, I shivered and his baggy clothes trembled even more.
No one did
anything. I did not do anything. I don't remember how long I stood there. But I
remember walking away from the sound of blows and shrieks.
It is
strange that I remember this now. Now, as I look at another burly man trying to
get his way with a woman. Now, when my sudden urge to act is again paralyzed by
this memory. A memory I thought I had forgotten but now remember in full
clarity. He is burly. She is helpless. And I am again paralyzed. But I cannot
be. I will not be. I move forward slowly and the burly man notices me. His eyes
pierce through my whole body and induce such fears that I have, perhaps known
but, never faced. But I can't stand still again. I cannot not act again. I
cannot let the memory of my own basic incapability as a human being, haunt me
for years again. And I get angry. I move ahead. I move fast. He moves faster. I
see the knife fraction of a second before ducking to the side. He trips on my
leg. We both fall heavily. But I am quicker. I look at the woman and realize I
am as helpless as she is. But she doesn't. She kicks a glass bottle towards me.
As the burly guy makes another charge towards me, I swiftly pick up the bottle
and swing it towards him with a force that I did not know that I had.
I don't
remember much. I remember shattered glass flying everywhere and a plunging pain
in my stomach. I remember the woman screaming for help. I remember pieces of
glasses sticking out of a big head. I remember being dragged. I remember being
lifted. I remember white lights flying across my eyes. I remember seeing her
face. I remember seeing her safe. And I remember the little boy. I remember
that that day, 10 years ago, however impactful, however haunting, did not
change anything in my life. And as I see
the anxious faces of the doctors and nurses rushing me past the hospital
corridor, I realize that today will.
