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Saturday, October 20, 2012

The Superman in every common man - (3 of 3)



This incident is to be published in three parts. To read the final part click here continued from part-2 

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I stepped back by the impact to 3 or 4 feet from my original place as people made space for their entertainment show. This is called law of conservation of energy. The energy they had applied in pushing me was converted into the work done by my body during my backward motion. It was purely basic Physics. Nothing else. I understood why they emphasized on these subjects during our school days.

“ No. She is not my sister. Does it matter?” I meeked in very low voice resulting from the cocktail of feeling of fear and self defence.
“Then what you are? A fucking Superman?” One of them retorted as they burst into laughter.
“A superman with his underpants beneath his pants.” Another added.
“Actually he is the scrawny version of Superman.” Third of them had marked his presence and they again burst into laughter. Some of the audience also found it laughable.
“What are you doing behan****? Does your father had taught you only all these?” A voice emerged from somewhere in the crowd. All 200 pairs of eyes moved toward its origin. An old man, about 60 year of age, had showed up from the mob in a second. The radiant on his face defined his confidence. He came and stood beside me. He then pats my back and scolded those three bullies. Also, he preached the crowd. He introduced himself as retired District Magistrate of some random district of Kerala. He must be in any other coach during all these time. Those three bullies were started misbehaving with him as well, but the intervention of public coerced them to immediately apologized him and deboarded from the train there only.

I thanked him for showing up at the right time. The time at which my bones were likely to be broken. He appreciated my courage which was no way needs any appreciation. It was just a result of spontaneity. In a nick of time, that girl approached us. She thanked that radiant uncle first, and then she approached me. My hearts bloated with a feeling mixed with fear and happiness. The happiness because a girl is approaching me while fear of her upcoming remark. What if she tell “ Thank you Bhaiya.”

Bhaiya? I mean what the hell…… Am I too bad looking or I am Bhai Saheb type. Whatever it is but I didn’t deserve to be a Bhaiya of any beautiful stranger girl. God had already blessed me with a sweet sister. I don’t need another one. I am not an universal brother anyway.

Nevertheless, she came to me. Her perfume fragrance hits my nostrils while she was yet few feet away. My heart skips some pulses for the obvious reasons. My mind began to analyze the possibilities out of compulsion. Her approach was spellbound indeed. I prayed my lords to not let her tell this most haunting word “Bhaiya”. It is the most lethargic word a beautiful stranger girl could ever say to a guy. Totally unacceptable. Okay.. go judge me, call me creepy but I  ain’t gonna buy it. Bhaiya from a beautiful unknown girl sounds like back stab from your best friend. You’d never want to accept any of them either. Totally  subtle and unanticipated indeed.

“Thank you….” She said as she extends her hand, perhaps for a handshake. Her  meaningful pause followed by her interrogatory eyebrow movement as if asking will you going to respond or should I take it back?, was enough to make me ensure that she was not going to brother-zone me. Aah! Huge sigh of relief, undeniably.
“Abhishek. Abhishek Bhopali.” I announced my name similar to James Bond style as I shook her hand. It felt so good. Her fair, warm hand was too soft to let go.

“Thank you Abhishek.” She said with a firm, tighter handshake and released the grip next moment. But I had to fight with my mental voice to finally release my grasp. However, I had to leave her indeed, and I did. “Thank you for showing the courage. God knows what would have been happened if you weren’t intervened. I really mean it.”

Yes, I deserve that “thank you”, that hand shake, that touch, that fragrance. Not because of showing the courage and saving her from the public nuisance but for risking my life for this random beautiful stranger girl whose I didn’t even knew her name.”

“I didn’t do anything. It’s this uncleji who managed the situation.” I said this pointing towards that uncle on the ground of morality though I don’t mean it. “There is no way I could save even myself if this uncle hadn’t shown up here. By the way, what’s your name?”
She told her name Sneha. Few minutes of conversation had made the things back into normal and people forget it as if it never happened in the first place except the fact that this beautiful lady is now sitting beside me, talking to me, which I hadn’t even think few minutes earlier. The train too moved slowly after a while.

That day, I learnt one thing that we don’t need any extraordinary muscular strength to stand against any wrong-doings. We don’t need any Superman or Spiderman or Shaktimaan or anyone else for the raising your voice against injustice. Every one of us has a Superman in us. A Superman who likes to wears underpants beneath his pants. A Spiderman without web or mask, for that matter.


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PS: This is a work of fiction.


Wednesday, October 17, 2012

The Superman in every common man - (2 of 3)


This .incident is to be published in three parts. To read the second part click here

continued from part-1

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Everyone turned their heads to check what had just happened, even though they all had pretty much idea of what could that screech and slap meant. The moment we turned our head, I was unable to see any of them as everyone in the train seemed to “enjoy the show”.

I too couldn’t conceal my curiosity and climbed on upper birth to make sure what I had anticipated in my mind about the situation. The birth itself was already full. What I had seen was the worst version of it. The guy, who had been awarded with the tightest slap, few seconds ago, was still stroking his right cheek, trying to digest the truth that he had been slapped by a girl. He grabbed her hand and gave a mighty slap on her face. It was not only clearly audible but also visible as we all were looking at them. The blow was too mighty to control her senses. She must have fallen on the floor if he hadn’t grabbed her hand. Her head must have been spinning with that blow. We were all stunned by what had just happened. What happened next is the lethal abusive slangs I had ever heard.

The train was still obstinate to move. People were still staring at them, perplexed. Though everyone had had a clear idea about what had just happened. Those three guys were consistently exhibiting their slang vocabulary collection. The girl was looking at the mute mob similar to a goat looks before being slitting. Helpless and endangered. That guy had still holding had still grasped her hand tightly which she was trying to get rid off. No one intervened in all high-pitch melodrama happening in the train. Not even a single person. I cursed them in my mind. But then, I too was not opposing those wrongdoings. I was too skinny to oppose them. My single word at that situation and I would’ve been crushed by those three massive bullies. In fact, I was too unconfident to protest. I decided to let it go. What’s the point of getting into trouble when I already knew that I can’t beat them in fist fight.

In just matter of few minutes, their brashness had shoot up to its maximum. They were actually started harassing that “poor” girl. The girl was crying for help but I was as helpless as she was. I just hope somebody from the crowd appears to help her. I was also hoping for some superman, batman, Shaktimaan or any of the superhero, I used to watch in television shows, would show up to protect her like they do in TV. I even thought, for a while, that lord Krishna will help her like he helped Draupadi. But nothing had happened the way I thought. All I could do was hoping for some non-existence super-hero from those futile TV shows. Meanwhile the behaviors of those guys were turning oppressive. Nothing seems to be helpful. No one showed up to help that pity girl. When things become irresistible, I lost my control.

“What the f**k do you think you are doing?” I shouted out loud. Suddenly those 200 pair of eyes followed me. Most of them must have rubbed their hand out of excitement. They had sensed the upcoming potential entertainment show in which a skinny, scrawny boy being beated up  black and blue by those massive body builder bullies. It was going to be fun. At the other end, the three of them left that girl and approached me.

Oops!!! What had I done? I immediately smelled my being in very near future. I thought my next stop would be any nearest hospital instead of Delhi railway station. I almost shat in my pants. My limbs began to swell out of fear, literally. I cursed myself for intervening them. “why the hell I did opened my stupid mouth?” I thought.

The human tongue has no bone, but it has the potential to break one’s bone.” This proverb sublimated in my mind. I was about to become the most recent example of this proverb. My legs began to staggers in fear. My pulse rate started to increase as they approached me. It was like the Faraday’s law of induction. When a current element is moved along a magnetic bar, there is a variation in current, or vice versa. Mr. Malik, our Physics teacher in 12th class, had once told this during our Physics lecture. Now I could actually correlate that statement with my real life. My body, which was likely to be repaired in any of the nearest hospital, was shivering.

“Is she’s your sister? Asshole.” One of them roared as they pushed me.


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This incident is to be published in three parts. This is it's second part.

PS: This is a work of fiction.





Saturday, October 13, 2012

The Superman in every common man


It was bright Monday morning, around 10 am. The sun had been glowing at its fullest as if deliberately tempted to kill every single creature. Summer in Delhi is a bitch, especially in mid-June. I was travelling in passenger train plying in Rewari-Delhi route.  Back when I was at Palam railway station, I just looked through everywhere for estrogen-driven co-passengers. But unfortunately there was not much girls up to my level of anticipation. There were only 3 or 4 girls which could be considered as beautiful by the low-esteemed standard I had set for girls.

It might be due to scorching summer hot or due to summer vacation that lesser number of girls was travelling in the train. Two of them, one is far above the scale of beauty, had been boarded in the same coach I had hopped in. She was so beautiful. And sexy as well, for that matter. I wanted them to sit beside me, at least one of them, preferably the hotter one. But nothing happened the way I had anticipated and they sat at a seat considerably far enough to stay away from my visible range.

The train became over-packed as soon as Patel Nagar railway station had reached. I had to offer my seat to an elderly uncle. This much over-crowded train was not to be seen every day. And the worst thing is there were no enough girls in train making the journey miserable. Beside the summer vacation our unofficial daughter-killing-scheme had paid us off. After all, how can we expect more girls in our society when we kill them either before their birth, in mother’s womb, or soon after their birth? We live in a country where we worship female goddesses and kill female children. How skewed we are….. Alas!!!

“What the hell you are doing?” A screeching female voice echoed in the coach. Around 150 pair of eyes followed the direction of origin of the voice. I looked too. It was one of the “beautiful” girls of the two of them who hopped in at Palam railway station. The beautiful girl whom I wished to sit beside me. Everyone was perplexed about her sudden screeching.

“What?” replied a guy with 5’9” body frame, in puzzled tone. His voice was giving a clear hint of his Haryanvi ascent while his rude overconfidence was confirming it.

Two other guys with same body proportion had folded their hand over their chest proving about their together some.
“You are touching my…… my body.” She complained hesitantly.  It gave a clear picture of the reason of her screaming.
. “This kind of things often happens in crowded trains, madam.” Another guy said as he stroked his stubble-claded chin.
The fume was settled and they let it go.

The train took an unanticipated halt at some “outer stoppage” somewhere between Patel Nagar and Delhi Sarai Rohilla railway station. Few passengers got panicked as they had to reach their office on time. This halt was unnecessary as well as it would have been another potential reason to their bosses to release their anger on them. The bosses too need somewhere to boost up their confidence which had been shattered after fighting with their respective wives. All of a sudden, everyone seemed to give a mouthful to Indian railways as if they had some personnel war with the world’s largest transport institution. The train didn’t seem to be moving even after 30 minutes. It had given them a hottest topic of discussion. The discussion which seemed to be never ending as everyone had an “expert” opinion against Indian Railways. They had expert opinion for every topic under the sun, for that matter.

Application of perpetual verbal slangs had only worsened the situation. They were constantly shuffling the topics under the wide umbrella of Indian railways. From train delays to accidents, from ticketing systems to tout, from pick-pocketing to snatching, from female teasing to irresponsible and corruption in railways ministry, every single person had their own expert view on almost every topic. They had discussed about almost every attribute related to Indian railways. This discussion had only added few more cuss words and slangs in my vocabulary. There also exists some slang which was way far from my understanding. My mental dictionary was oblivious about the actual meaning of those slangs. Even google.com couldn’t answer the meaning of those words. It seemed like these slangs were freshly invented or might be kept away from the world for all these years.

“You touching me again!” same voice echoed followed by a hard slap. That beautiful girl was screaming at the maximum possible volume permissible by her vocal cord. The panic in her voice along with that hard slap was enough to grab the attention of every co-passenger in the train.

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This incident is to be published in three parts. This is its first part.



PS: This is a work of fiction.

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Bhopal. Delhi. Mumbai. Thrissur, India
A grammatically challenged blogger. Typos are integral part of blogging