Upur 17

 

Chapter 17: The Second Fight

Growing up in a co-educational day school was an education in itself. Every morning, we arrived carrying not only our school bags but also our dreams, insecurities, friendships and occasional rivalries. The classrooms, playgrounds, corridors, library and bus stands together formed a miniature world of their own—a world where we learnt many lessons that no textbook could ever teach.

As we advanced through adolescence, most of us were slowly becoming mature and learning to understand one another better. Yet there were some boys who believed that rough behaviour was a sign of strength. Teasing, pushing and intimidating others enhanced their standing in the eyes of their friends. Unfortunately, because of my quiet and non-confrontational nature, I often found myself at the receiving end of such behaviour.

One such classmate was Mahesh Chander.

Mahesh was not really a bully at heart. In fact, beneath his rough exterior, he was a simple and straightforward boy. Tall, fair and sturdily built, he always carried a somewhat untidy and shabby appearance, which made him look older than the rest of us. He had a peculiar habit of swallowing half his words while speaking, making his speech unclear and difficult to understand. Consequently, many students maintained a distance from him, often unfairly judging him before even getting to know him.

JP was one of his few close friends, and the two were almost inseparable. Mahesh was also a good sportsman and an excellent runner, although he never managed to break into the school's top ranks.

Raina, however, considered Mahesh an ideal target for his endless mischief.

One afternoon, Raina played one of his most memorable pranks. During recess, he quietly slipped a live frog into Mahesh's geometry box and waited for the drama to unfold.

A little later, Mahesh returned to his seat, dropped heavily into his chair and casually opened the box.

The next instant, a blood-curdling scream echoed through the classroom.

Startled by the sudden movement of the frog, Mahesh reflexively flung the geometry box high into the air. Compasses, pencils and scales scattered in all directions before the box landed with a loud clang on the floor.

For a moment, there was stunned silence.

Then the entire class burst into laughter.

I too could not control myself.

Red-faced and thoroughly embarrassed, Mahesh looked around furiously. His eyes finally settled on me.

Marching straight towards me, he demanded angrily, "Why are you laughing?"

"Because everyone else is laughing," I replied casually. "The whole thing was funny."

He immediately pushed my shoulder in irritation.

"What do you think of yourself? Too smart, aren't you?"

Realising that he was genuinely upset, I stopped smiling at once.

"I had nothing to do with the prank," I said calmly. "Please don't misunderstand me."

He glared at me for a few seconds before returning to his seat.

No sooner had he sat down than Raina announced loudly,

"Why did you go to him? I was the one who put the frog there!"

Mahesh muttered something under his breath, undoubtedly an abuse directed at Raina, but he wisely chose not to confront him physically. He knew very well that he could not overpower Raina in a fight.

Raina responded with his trademark laughter.

"He he he he he!"

Mahesh looked away and pretended not to hear him.

Mahesh had an elder brother, Vikrant, who studied in another section. Vikrant was a much sharper boy, an accomplished sportsman and, incidentally, a close friend of Raina. Whenever Mahesh found himself cornered during arguments, he invariably invoked his brother's name. The mere mention of Vikrant was often enough to discourage any potential opponent.

Unfortunately, Mahesh had developed another habit that affected me directly.

At that stage of my life, I had not yet started wearing a turban and usually covered my head with a scarf. For reasons best known to him, Mahesh seemed to derive immense amusement from tugging at it, touching it or deliberately disturbing it whenever he passed by.

Initially, I ignored these acts.

I was younger than most boys in the class—smaller in build and nearly a year or two junior to many of them. By temperament, I was peaceful and preferred avoiding unnecessary confrontations. I believed that friendships were more important than arguments and that patience could resolve most misunderstandings.

Repeatedly, I requested Mahesh to stop.

Repeatedly, he ignored me.

Gradually, the teasing escalated into pushing.

Whenever Raina ridiculed or embarrassed him, Mahesh appeared to vent his frustration on me, perhaps because he considered me an easy target who would never retaliate.

One day, while leaving the classroom, he deliberately shoved me hard.

I turned around.

"Enough," I said firmly. "Please behave yourself."

Instead of stopping, he pushed me once again.

Unwilling to create a scene, I quietly moved to another vacant chair.

To my annoyance, he followed me there and continued provoking me.

By now, I had lost my patience.

"Leave me alone!" I shouted.

The sudden outburst surprised everyone. A few girls sitting nearby looked in our direction.

Embarrassed, Mahesh walked away. But the expression on his face made it clear that the matter was far from over.

A little later, I stepped outside to drink water.

As I returned, Mahesh called out to me.

I ignored him.

The next thing I knew, he had grabbed my shirt.

Before I could react, he dragged me away from the classroom towards the lonely pathway leading to the cave behind the academic block. I resisted, but he was physically much stronger.

"What is the matter?" I asked.

I had barely completed the sentence when he pushed me violently.

I lost my balance and fell flat on my back.

Within seconds, he was on top of me.

Straddling my abdomen, he pinned me firmly to the ground and gripped my neck.

"What do you think of yourself?" he shouted angrily.

I tried desperately to free myself.

I pushed.

Kicked.

Twisted.

Rolled.

Nothing worked.

Every time I almost escaped, he overpowered me again.

Soon, a crowd gathered around us. Some boys cheered. Others laughed. A few merely watched with curiosity.

To them, it was entertainment.

To me, it was humiliation.

As I lay pinned helplessly beneath him, gasping for breath, panic slowly gave way to desperation. For the first time, I realised that patience and submission had brought me to this situation.

I had only two choices—either continue suffering humiliation or defend myself.

Instinct took over.

Summoning all the strength I could muster, I raised my head and bit him hard on the cheek.

Mahesh screamed.

Startled by the sudden pain, he loosened his grip instantly.

By now, I was so angry and humiliated that I continued holding on. In my desperation to free myself, I shook my head instinctively, much like I had once seen our pet dog do during a fight.

The crowd, which had until then been enjoying the spectacle, suddenly realised that matters had become serious.

Several boys rushed forward.

After considerable effort, they finally managed to separate us by pressing my cheeks apart.

Blood immediately began trickling down Mahesh's face.

Four deep teeth marks were clearly visible.

His friends quickly escorted him to the hospital without informing any teacher or the Principal, largely because they knew that he had initiated the confrontation and wished to avoid further complications.

As for me, I returned to class shaken but strangely relieved.

For the first time, I had stood up to a bully.

Raina looked at me mischievously and asked, "So, how deep was the kiss?"

"What else could I do?" I replied. "I couldn't even breathe."

"Good," he said approvingly. "Now he won't trouble you again."

Although I appeared calm outwardly, anxiety gradually replaced my relief.

The next day, Mahesh did not come to school.

Nor did he come the day after.

By the third day, I had begun imagining the worst.

What if his parents complained?

What if the Principal summoned me?

What if my parents were called to school?

The uncertainty became unbearable.

Unable to carry the burden any longer, I decided to tell my mother.

That evening, after returning home, I cautiously began narrating the background of the incident.

"There is one boy in class who keeps troubling me," I explained. "I warned him many times, but he wouldn't stop."

"You must also have done something to provoke him," my mother said.

"No," I replied honestly. "He pushed me down and held me so tightly that I couldn't even breathe. I had no other option."

"Why didn't you complain to a teacher?" she asked.

"I thought I would handle it myself," I replied. "And now the matter is over."

Fortunately, she did not pursue the subject further.

On the fourth day, Mahesh finally returned.

His face was swollen and a white cross-shaped plaster covered his cheek.

Walking up to me, he said quietly, "I have already taken three injections. You really bit hard."

"You left me with no choice," I replied honestly. "I was completely overpowered."

To my immense relief, he revealed that he had told his parents that an insect had bitten him. Since they had seen only the dressing and not the wound itself, they had accepted his explanation.

"What did the doctor say?" I asked curiously.

Mahesh smiled painfully.

"He said it looked more like the aftermath of a bloody dogfight."

For the first time since the incident, both of us laughed.

Over the next few days, I saw him enduring considerable discomfort. Gradually, my anger disappeared and was replaced by guilt. Whenever I saw him wincing in pain, I felt genuinely sorry.

One afternoon, I advised him to apply warmth to the injured cheek to reduce the pain.

He looked at me with friendly eyes.

There was no trace of revenge in them.

When the teacher later enquired about his injury, Mahesh calmly repeated that it was an insect bite.

The entire class lowered their heads to hide their laughter.

A few days later, the plaster was removed.

Four faint scars remained permanently etched on his cheek.

Initially, Mahesh tried to hide them with his hand, but eventually he stopped bothering.

Those scars had become my unintended signature.

Even today, whenever I remember them, I feel uncomfortable and somewhat ashamed. Yet I also know that whatever I did, I did purely in self-defence.

Strangely enough, the fight that could have turned us into lifelong enemies became the foundation of an enduring friendship.

Mahesh never troubled me again.

Instead, we gradually became good friends.

Looking back today, I realise that the incident taught both of us an important lesson. Mahesh learnt that even the quietest person has a breaking point, while I learnt that courage sometimes emerges only when one is pushed into a corner.

Even today, whenever we meet, Mahesh proudly points towards the faint scars on his cheek and reminds everyone of our famous fight. And Raina, true to his nature, never misses the opportunity to tease us—me for "kissing" Mahesh and Mahesh for being "kissed".

Some memories, it seems, are destined to remain evergreen.