Vacation time in Kerala had always been a drive through
memory lane. This holiday season was going to be quite different and never
thought that things would turn out to be the way they ultimately did.
I was married now and no longer the little girl who would
hold her mother’s sari and walk around mystified at everything she lays her
eyes on. God’s own country has changed and now it no longer deserved to be
called so. The green countryside, the gently and innocent people and the peace
and calm atmosphere is replaced with concrete jungle, rude and perverted
individuals and noisy atmosphere.
It was 10 at night. Myself and Tharun were waiting at a
bus-stop to catch our ride to our own district. We were visiting a friend on
the occasion of his wedding and had had a wonderful time. Palghat district is a
conglomeration of Malayali and Tamilian culture. This factor renders it a very
unique face and distinct quality. The ladies with their beetle-nut and tobacco
reddened lips with big round suns on their foreheads look absolutely amazing in
the Tamil style sari, while men walk around with dignified looks on their
faces and a patriarchal pride. Some people speak Tamil while some are comfortable speaking Malayalam.
But my story is not a creative description of the place but that of an incident
which justifies the title of my blogpost.
The bus was late and all four of us were speaking about the
wedding ceremony. My husband’s friend and his wife who lived in Palghat had
come to see us off. There were quite a few other groups of people who were
traveling with us or come to see off someone. Amongst all of these there was a
group of men who looked particularly suspicious. They were speaking in Hindi
and didn’t realize that some of the people around them knew Hindi as well. Their
comments were directed towards me. As I stood there trying to pretend to ignore
these people and continue talking to the friend, it was getting excruciating to
stand listening to the perverted comments and outrageous statements.
Suddenly, the remarks grew in hideous proportions and my
capacity to tolerate any further suddenly came to a hault. I confronted the
group in Hindi and made them realize that I understood each and every word they
spoke. All four in the group started arguing with me and tried to corner me. Suddenly,
I saw my husband step into the crowd and he came and stood in front of me like a mountain (6
foot, well-built guy can do something like that very easily). He was
engrossed in a conversation with his friend when the commotion began. He turned
to me and asked if I was alright. I told him that this group had been speaking
utter nonsense for quite some time and that I couldn’t tolerate it any longer.
He commanded the group to step back and like a might warrior
challenged them. They had fist fights and pushing and pulling took place. The goon-gang started using abusive language and the scene got a lot more fierce. All that the crowd gathered around us did was comment on how they were not asked for help when the entire scene was taking place right in front of their eyes. It was a maniac scene and all I could think of was that my
husband who is generally a very soft and polite person could do something
so very bold. The men argued and ultimately Tharun decided to call the police. The
group got scared upon the mention of police and fled the scene. Ultimately the gang was caught but we couldn't delay our forward journey, hence both of us boarded the bus. On the bus, a middle-aged man sitting on the seat in the opposite aisle started explaining to Tharun how he should have called out for help. Tharun went back to his calm and sober mood and told him that one need not print any invites for help, it should come from within and not upon asking.
I have always been proud of him. This episode in my life
taught me that even if he is a calm and slow to react person, he would
definitely stand strong for people he really cares for. That was a new lesson
learnt and definitely those goons learnt a lesson as well.
