An Experience with Public Violence in India -- A Diary Note

Everyone listen please, I have something to say, something very important to say. Today I encountered public violence for the first time. A drunk young man was beating a poor helpless weak boy an auto-rickshaw driver for a worthless piece of cigarette.

The drunk man first tried to mess with me while I was in the shop, but I was able to scare him off with expressions of superiority and polite objections. Then he went up to the driver boy and found a cigarette in his pocket and demanded it for himself. When he was denied, he started punching the poor fellow. The boy was thin and weak and could not defend himself. He started weeping like a kid and begged his audience for help. Even the sane friend of the drunk asshole preferred not to see and left the place. No one heard his cries. No one saw what pain he was suffering. No one preferred to hear or see. But I could not do the same. With every punch on his face, I felt the pain. Yes, I could feel his fear. I could feel his helplessness. I could feel his prayers. Tears rolled down my face with the sound of his cry for help.

I had decided then. I could bear this no more. One thing I have learnt very well from my childhood is not to keep silent when it is not to be kept silent. My heart was throbbing like mad, sending every last drop of my blood into my limbs, in order to fight against the injustice done in front of my eyes, my instinct pushing me into a fight to the defend the boy. But I was frightened too. I tried to resist myself because I tried to reason like everyone else, how can I protest when I am alone. Once I thought of calling the police. But there was not enough time. Then miraculously, at the very moment, an old song of my childhood I had almost forgotten resonated inside my head, Judi tor daak shune keu naai aashe, tobe ekla cholo re, meaning if no one listens to your call, then go alone with yourself. Immediately, I stopped being any more artificial, and dropped my bag into the ground, and gripped my fists tightly, and screamed, Enough! I had decided, I would rather get beaten instead by the mad beast than to stand there and see my brother being beaten.

That was just for one moment only. The drunk man released the boy in order to turn around and look towards me. I repeated, Enough! The boy took the chance, and escaped for his life. I was very pleased to see that the dog had lost his prey. Everyone dispersed. Even I returned home. Safe. I thanked God for his help.

This was a small incident. Yet I cannot forget it even now. I have many questions. Why were those men blind and deaf like cattle? Why do we resist the voice of our own conscience which is good? What has happened of our instinct to help? Why has man become so artificial? Why does man think only for himself when he knows that it is only through the collective that he lives? Why does man not protest against what is unjust? Why can man not hope the mercy and help from God the Lord of the Universe if he stands to protect His creations? Why is man so afraid of death when he knows that he has no control over life and death, and that if he stands for truth and justice, he would not die, but have eternal life in the hearts of men? Does not man know that it is only the body that dies, but not our soul, our thoughts, our ideals? What is the life of man compared to the gigantic expanse of time that the great old universe has lived? Why does then man think so much of himself?

My teacher told me once when I was a boy,

Protest against injustice. For, he who does not protest against injustice is doing injustice himself, and the unjust are the meanest of all creations. If you cannot protest by force, protest by your voice. If you have an excuse for that too, protest by hating the deed of injustice in your own heart. But do protest.

I want EVERYONE who has read to the end of this post to answer my questions. If you are human enough to breathe air and eat bread, then do comment and answer me what you're gonna do in such a situation. What is man if not a helper?