A day that changed my life

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.