Time changes everything.

Last week, I accompanied a friend to a bike mechanic shop who he knew very well. A lot of workers were doing different jobs in the workshop while the main man spoke on phone on his desk. I looked around and saw that in one corner, a man, slightly overweight, chewed gutkha and was cleaning a carburetor of a bike. In a flash, I remembered seeing this man somewhere and within seconds, a very clear picture of this man emerged in my mind. His name was A.

In 1999, like many of us, we had to wait at the Rathifile bus stand, Secunderabad for a 37 or a 24E or in the worst case, a 16A to get home. Every afternoon at about 1.30-2 pm, there used to be a set of boys who specialized in eve teasing. Girls used to fear their stupidity. I know of a girl who stopped taking the bus from the bus stop after the eve-teasing became unbearable. 

Although I had never seen anyone, there were rumors of civil dressed policemen secretly observing these eve-teasers. In order to be extra careful, I and my friend who usually accompanied me, took the first bus that came and never waited for too long or hung around for more than what was required. And honestly, even looking at girls had become difficult, because of this threat. 

One afternoon, I clearly remember two boys acting extra smart, started teasing a girl who regularly got into 24E. They passed lewd comments and started making passes at her. Those two boys were ugly beyond imagination and their dressing was pedestrian. One of the boys, started singing "Aati kya khandala" song and lit up a cigarette which was usually banned and socially unacceptable inside the bus complex. I was watching from a not too distant staircase. 

The guy who was singing the song, took steps closer to that girl. And like they show it in the movies, blew smoke on her face and said, "Naatho matladava?" (Won't you speak to me?) in a tone so rash that she started crying. The moment the girl started crying, people who were observing, gathered to see what's wrong but none of them dared to question the anti-social proceedings. The smoker, shamelessly, caught her ponytail and pulled it and said, "Chooskunta enni rojulu matladavo..." (I'll see how many more days you won't speak to me). The girl started crying very loudly. Anger filled inside me, but very honestly, I was a lean, timid boy with no guts to confront. I kept quiet and watched. 

I wished something would happen soon, and just then, I heard a loud thud. A uniformed Army man had bitch-slapped the trouble creator. And suddenly there was a public outrage. A few people joined the Army man. In 5 seconds, there were so many blows that the guy fell on the ground. A series of kicks followed. He was beaten up badly and his clothes were torn. The beating continued for 10 more minutes. After which, a policeman arrived. He dragged the boy along the platform and everyone watched. Blood oozed out of him in drops and trickles. An arm, and probably a jaw was also broken. 

The other guy who had accompanied him, vanished. Suddenly, his absence was realized when someone said, "Veeditho inokodu edi" (where's the guy who came with him?) but everyone looked around. Today, 13 years have passed. I never saw that girl again. Neither did I see the other guy who escaped. At the mechanic shop, the guy who chewed gutkha, Mr. A, was the one who was beaten up that day. I stayed on and looked at him for a few seconds. In a while, the owner of the shop came and signaled to him with his hands and asked him to go and eat. There was an unusual silence that prevailed before I asked the owner, "What is his name?". He said, "You don't know him?". 

"I seem to have seen him somewhere," I said. 

"His name is A," he said. I knew that. But there was something he didn't want to tell me. Just then, my friend observed our conversation and said, "Wait. Keep quiet now". I said OK and kept quiet. 

Half an hour later, as we had tea, my friend told me that Mr. A was a very famous criminal of a bygone era. Very famous for hitting people for money, eve teasing, property damage and creating nuisance. But one day, a famous rowdy once kidnapped him for about 40 days and he was beaten everyday. They also cut off his tongue. After that day, he was never heard of in any case. He stayed indoors for about 6 years. After that, his brother's friend spoke to this mechanic friend and got him employed here. And now, he works here in silence every day. 

As my friend took the last sip of  the tea, he said, "I also heard that some 14 years back, he was beaten up very badly in Rathifile Bus Stand". I looked at him, picked up the cup and sipped tea. 

- Deepak Karamungikar