The turning point

Were you ever disturbed by a noisy neighbour when you were on the verge of something extremely important? I was. My SSLC exam was just around the corner. This was two decades ago, when the SSLC exam was considered the turning point in life.

The day before the exam, my preparation was ferocious, and I thought I was unstoppable when the conundrum broke out in our neighbourhood.

Our neighbourhood, called Baavikeri, consisted mostly of agricultural labourers. It was usual to hear drunk men beating the wives and children at night. Some events were less audible, but some were disturbingly loud. Usually the fights happened inside their houses, with an exchange of abuse followed by cries and silence. Sometimes it was on a bigger scale, happening outside the house—a spectacle for the neighbours.

Unusually, the tussle was more like panchayati, when other neighbours would come to rescue the wife and preach to the alcoholic husband to mind his ways. The day before my big day reminded me of the stories of the Kurukshetra scene, with a crowd of 25 to 30 people surrounding the fighting couple.

Some women were busy consoling the crying wife; some were abusing the enraged husband. Their 5-year-old son, Pandy, was clutching his mother’s saree with fear and uncertainty. He was my brother’s playmate, and I had my sympathies for him.

I was frantically trying to revise my chapters and was disgusted by the nuisance. I tried reading aloud to keep up my pace, but it was not helping. I was waiting for the Kurukshetra to come to an end soon, but it did not. That was when my father came home. I came down from the attic and started crying because I was not able to study. My father sighed with despair and went out.

My mother yelled at me that I should have been patient and should not have bothered my father when he came home tired. We heard his “Rajdoot” bike moving away from the house. I felt sorry that I had troubled him. I returned to the attic to study with guilt and shame.

I was not able to focus as the caprolalia continued in the background. A few minutes later, my father rode back. Some spectators dispersed instantly. A police jeep followed my father’s bike.

A police constable rebuked Pandy’s father and asked him to get into the jeep. Within minutes, the melodrama ended and peace was restored to the neighbourhood.

My father entered the house triumphant. He patted my back and asked me to go back and study. That day, my father empowered not only his daughter but also Pandy’s mother. I did well not only in SSLC but in many exams later. My father had taught me not to tolerate injustice, especially against women.