“Dhop!” He fell to the ground with a thud as the three men guffawed. Advaita rushed to her father’s side.
“Please leave us alone. I won’t report this to the police,” Nityanand whimpered as Advaita slapped her forehead. “Papa and his ways!”
She knew her timid banker dad could not handle such tough situations. Advaita wanted to get help from the local police when she was stalked by the men on her way to her NEET coaching classes. Nityanand had insisted that involving the police was unnecessary when just a pep talk would do.
Taking advantage of the darkness and the deserted road they tugged at Advaita’s dupatta. Advaita sobbed covering her eyes with her palms in despair.
“We will teach you a lesson you will remember for life,” voices within boomed. And the time has come to smother them into silence.
The veins on Nityanand’s neck stood out. Standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, he raised his clenched fists.
Jab after jab landed on the men taking them unawares. Advaita was too shell-shocked for words. When they couldn’t take it anymore, they hobbled away.
“Papa!” Advaita gasped, open-mouthed.
“I was once a state-level boxer. A group of men beat me to a pulp to ensure their candidate would get selected for the national level competition. I was left to die. My parents made me swear that I would quit boxing forever. The physical wounds healed but the scar inside is still fresh. I didn’t want you to suffer the same fate. The wound one suffers from humiliation is the worst of all wounds,” Nityanand mumbled, hugging Advaita, with tear-clouded eyes.
“Does mom know about this?” she queried.
“No, now I will tell her.”
The boxer had finally won the bout in the ring of life.
PC: Attentie/Unsplash
