Karan, My Saviour

I can’t say when it got so difficult; I remember it always being that way. But I know precisely when it got easier – when I met Karan last year. 

I used to be a pint-sized kid, and that would scare me. Father was a huge man, and with my petite frame, I was always at his mercy, afraid if my body could even survive his blows. But two years ago, I had a growth spurt. I was now as towering as him, and even his throat-grab was no longer as scary.

Now, there was a different deliberation. I had seen it in his eyes – for him, hitting me was merely an indulgence. He relished it – earlier, my pain, and later, my humiliation. And that was something I couldn’t understand. Why would he do such a thing? There was no reason – just an expectation for me to take that as a fact. That should have been easy, but my mind remained clouded. Or at least it did until I met Karan.

When I got into high school, I saw this boy two years older than me. He was so short and timid that you wouldn’t even think he was in 11th standard. And he was all by himself. Probably doesn’t have any friends, either. A pitiable situation, one might think. But looking at him made me understand it all. I walked up to him and pushed him to the ground. Why did I do that? The answer was right in front of me. Karan collected himself and turned back to see what just happened. And there I saw it – all of that astonishment and anger vapourising at the sight of my overwhelming self against a weakling like him. He stared, gulped, tried to say something unsuccessfully, got up and left. 

That was fear in him. And seeing someone scared of you is soothing. When I saw him giving up protest against my obviously wrong act, it felt empowering. Ever since that day, it got easier.

Father would still curse and beat me, but I stopped worrying about it. I had Karan now. I would look forward to seeing him every day. I would put my arm around him, trip him up, push him around, and it was great. But my favourite was slapping him somewhere with many familiar people nearby. Just imagining how humiliating it would be for him helped me relax. If you’re hit, bossed around, and publicly humiliated by someone two years younger, there is no recourse. Your pride wouldn’t allow it – I know that very well. 

He did try to retaliate once, but I kicked him to the ground. After that, he never dared to even throw a glare at me.

And that’s how it is now. Karan is the reason why I can deal with my father. That’s how it got easier to live. And for that, I am forever grateful to him.