The victim

Strange is our forgetfulness, how easily we tend to forget our lessons from past, especially if they have been delivered on someone else.

Guilt in others sometimes brings out the beast inside us. When we see someone cowering under the shadows of his own guilt we all of a sudden start to think that we are far superior than him, so superior that we can taunt, insult or hurt him. In our blindness we forget that there are others too, who are watching the entire drama. Our victim may be helpless but the watchers may not be helpless.


When Suraj joined that small school in that small town no one noticed him for the first few days.

He was just one of the most average boys, skinny, short heighted and too ordinary. He kept special care to stay unnoticed too. He sat in the last bench and avoided company.

Then the cat was out of the bag. Someone told why was he so silent, submissive and withdrawn.

His father has killed his infidel mother and was languishing in jail. His grandparents brought him here to spare him from social stigma.

In one month his life became nightmare, being small and powerless he became the target of every bully in the school.

Just like all social animals since time immemorial they thought it was their divine right to torment him.

Mr. Pakrashi was returning from school when he noted a small, tight crowd of school boys in a corner of the playground. He could hear their screams and jestings from the other side of the ground.

He reached them in a few long steps to disperse them. They dispersed disappointedly on seeing him. All went their way but one, he was not much in condition of going it seemed. His uniform was torn, it appeared that they were roughing him up.

Mr. Pakrashi stooped down and touched his shoulder, the boy lifted his face, Mr. Pakrashi recognized him, he was one of the freshers in class seven. Mr. Pakrashi taught students of higher classes but he has heard about the plight of this child.

“Why were they beating you like this?” he gently asked the child.
A couple of hours have passed, he has brought the child to his home and had taken care of his wounds.

Initially Suraj was silent but Mr. Pakrashi coaxed the truth out of him.

Since the day the cat was out he was regularly roughed up by bullies of the school. They used to call his parents names and simple protest meant being roughed up.

Mr. Pakrashi took him to his home. He met his grandparents, two persons bent with age and grief. He promised them he will try his best to solve the problem.

Next evening Suraj was returning home from school, he was walking in quick steps when he heard a shout from sidewalk “Hey murderer’s son!!!!”

He pretended to ignore and quickened his steps, soon a hand fell on his shoulder. “I was talking to you, you vermin! How dare you ignore me?” someone shoved him roughly and he landed on the hard floor.

He closed his eyes and waited for the kick but heard some shuffling instead.

He stared up and saw a bunch of senior students standing there, surrounding the group of bullies.

“He is our little brother, remember that from today onward, we will always keep an eye on him, in or out of school, anyone who touches him will be answerable to us.” Soham, the captain of school cricket team said solemnly. “Now for you all, lets go, Principal sir wants to talk with you in private.”

The boys excluding one left together leaving Suraj behind. The boy who stayed with Suraj gently helped him up and started to walk with him toward his home.

“Pakrashi sir talked with all the classes he teaches today, with all of us and we promised him that we will keep an eye on you.” The boy, Mohan gently said with deep affection.

“You will have to do another thing too. Sir has procured the permission of your grandparents.”

“Come inside.” They were standing outside the gates of a small building.

Suraj saw that a group of twenty or so boys were practicing Karate inside.

“Sir, this is the boy Pakrashi sir talked about.” Mohan touched the feets of the instructor.