Spectrum

Reminiscence of life

“In every adversary, a spectrum of human faces appears,” I had read this line somewhere (Not able to recall where), but yesterday I experienced it.
What I narrate below may seem like a stunt from a melodrama film, but every thing recorded is raw fact.

On a hot afternoon of Feb 06- 2010, I was at the ‘Maruthi circle’ bus stop near Srinagar in Bangalore, waiting for the BMTC bus for Residency road to cover Governor’s inauguration event. I was questioning myself and trying to figure out what answers the governor would say so that I can counter argue him. (Only if I get a chance to talk to him!!!)

The time in my mobile showed 2.45 pm and the program was at 4. I had enough time to reach St. Joseph College, which was the venue for the program.

After coming to Bangalore, I have this one good/bad habit of listen to the FM’s while traveling in the bus. On that day also, I plugged in my headphones in ear so loud that even a shout from the next person could not have got a response from me.
Around 3PM, a boy aged about 17 to 20, black like a burnt coal with yellowed tooth and stinking shirt, came to me. Without saying anything he dragged my headphone down. I was all shocked. I asked him what the matter was, but that fellow had no politeness to answer me. His lips started to fire those kannada words which I had never heard in my life. That abusive language, in which I am so poor, turned into punches within few seconds.

He gave three punches on my nose region and abused me even more. Some how my mobile, which was screaming Hindi songs all the while came out of the jeans pocket. By the same time, another person joined the first man and started hitting me on the face- I was totally shocked to understand what was happening to me. I did not even make a hue or a cry. I stood there like a ‘punching bag’ and they where ‘practicing’ on me.

I was determined not give my mobile at any cost. Though both of them were hitting me, I still hung to mobile. But my fight could not last long. From back, the third moron took a razor and stroked it on my back. The 7 CM long wound started to bleed and the mobile that I purchased with my first salary was in those thieves hand.

Even the shirt that I gifted my self with my first salary was torn and had 20 mm of my O(+) blood. With one stroke of a blade, I lost two things that I had purchased with my hard earnings. That shirt was really good! (Finally that was used to clean the coffee that I spilt at the police station. Rs. 800 shirt was used to clean coffee!!!)

First face


While all this drama was unraveling itself in broad day light amidst hundreds of people stagnant at the bus stop, no one came to help me in the ‘battle’. All were watching as if this was one scene just to be seen, not to act.

Even I did a mistake- I did not shout or made an effort to get help by crying or fighting (I don’t wish you to have the same experience, but if you are in this situation please shout, that may bring some help.)

The best answer I got after all that fight and injured back was from a goldsmith in-front of whose shop this incident happened. “We thought that they were your friend and you where having a small trifle.” I don’t know what answer to give him! Some one is hurting another person with a razor and u consider him to be that guy’s friend! (Let it be. I won’t blame him for that).

Second face

Blood was coming out as the flood gates of a river are opened in monsoon- unstoppable. Every one gathered there were busy in asking me what happened though every one of them had enjoyed the show.

But there was one human amidst of those audience- Rajesh G., Agency manager, Bharti AXA life insurance Company Ltd. Whose first words to me was “cover the wound with cotton, its bleeding heavily.” Every one by then started to search for cotton. Rajesh offered me his car to drop me at the hospital. I apologise to him as his well maintained front seat had to bare my blood stains.

In the hospital, I was told to get four stitches. Rajesh stood their and bought all the medicines that was needed at that time. He did not even collect money from me. I owe him a lot!

And the most enjoyable part at the hospital was when the fourth stitch was stitched without administering local anesthesia. The pain!, better not to tell.

At the police station


After coming to Bangalore, it has been a common thing for me to visit a police station for various reasons (and not a single time I was wrong). First thing the police constable R Raju asked me was, Do you have a love affair, or any fight with any one?

I felt as if I was in a better situation when I was with the thieves than now. My no answers convinced him that I was a innocent common man without any kind of “lafda”.
Next SI Shekar of Hanumanth Nagar police station who came to interrogate me. His questions were good- “Did you write anything against anybody that has caused for an attack?. After joining DH, I have written only two articles. Both against the Ministry of Fisheries, but I don’t think Anand Asnotkar has so much time to bother about those two articles and send men for me!

Every thing with the police was “settled”. All their questions were answered.

By 4 pm one of those bastards had started using my cell. Thanks for this advance technology that my cell has- ‘mobile tracker’ that I could find with whom my cell was. His number is 9900566665.

Let us wait and see, how many days the police need to trace out a mobile with all the required info with them, and the pressure that a Journalist mobile is at LARGE!!!

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Bangalore, Karnataka, India
Has not excavated fully. There are half baked feelings, desires and ambitions. But a heart to complete and compel.

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