Hitting or kicking is our common instinct to let out built-up anger. Two incidents proved I was no exception. Blood really boils in the teens and early twenties!
The first one was during my high school days. Narayana (around my age) was a boy who worked at my friend’s house and used to occasionally join us for street cricket and other games. Teasing with irrelevant nicknames was common but they were usually overdone to irritate. One evening, I lost my tolerance with Narayana who certainly overdid. An instinctive kick into his ‘most sensitive anatomical part’ was the result. His fainting made us anxious but he recovered and went home after friends pacified us down. For the next one year, I avoided his house for my school route, fearing retaliation and also avoided play. But much to my relief, nothing happened till he was sent away. Peace for me, returned.
During my college days, my friend Venky’s friend had a nasty habit of saying ‘hello’. He would forcefully push his fingers into shirt-pockets of those he met. He was not that close a friend to me to be greeting me that way. One evening, this crazy friend met me and Venky but he first did it to me! The pocket tore off! Venky could not believe his eyes and ears. I was hurling abuses while hitting hard with a ‘bowling action’! (Cricket was our common factor) Venky tried to pacify but came in the way of my moving arm and got hit! Somehow the fight ended. At that time, Venky had borrowed a book for me, from him. I never returned it deliberately, because he had torn off my only ‘terrycot’ shirt! I never met this fellow again.
The recipients might not have learnt their lessons but I slowly did. For, they were the only times these instincts were let out outside home -– wink. Witness Venky remembers one of them, besides my only kick. Looking back, it is a funny feeling. But beware the fury of the patient man!
The first one was during my high school days. Narayana (around my age) was a boy who worked at my friend’s house and used to occasionally join us for street cricket and other games. Teasing with irrelevant nicknames was common but they were usually overdone to irritate. One evening, I lost my tolerance with Narayana who certainly overdid. An instinctive kick into his ‘most sensitive anatomical part’ was the result. His fainting made us anxious but he recovered and went home after friends pacified us down. For the next one year, I avoided his house for my school route, fearing retaliation and also avoided play. But much to my relief, nothing happened till he was sent away. Peace for me, returned.
During my college days, my friend Venky’s friend had a nasty habit of saying ‘hello’. He would forcefully push his fingers into shirt-pockets of those he met. He was not that close a friend to me to be greeting me that way. One evening, this crazy friend met me and Venky but he first did it to me! The pocket tore off! Venky could not believe his eyes and ears. I was hurling abuses while hitting hard with a ‘bowling action’! (Cricket was our common factor) Venky tried to pacify but came in the way of my moving arm and got hit! Somehow the fight ended. At that time, Venky had borrowed a book for me, from him. I never returned it deliberately, because he had torn off my only ‘terrycot’ shirt! I never met this fellow again.
The recipients might not have learnt their lessons but I slowly did. For, they were the only times these instincts were let out outside home -– wink. Witness Venky remembers one of them, besides my only kick. Looking back, it is a funny feeling. But beware the fury of the patient man!
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