Vikram’s toughest lesson

Rachna Chhabria writes about a bully who learns the hard way that strength isn’t everything

Vikram was the biggest bully of the fifth grade and also of his school. When he stared, younger children shivered. When he scowled, his classmates ran away in fear.

No one spoke against him. The class prefect didn’t correct him for not following the line rule or for not sitting at his own desk. If Vikram wanted to borrow someone’s pen or pencil, no one dared refuse him.

Teachers indulged him a lot, often ignoring his unruly behaviour. No teacher scolded him for messy homework, submitting assignments late, or even wearing unpolished shoes to school. The reason was that Vikram’s father was the principal of the school.

The principal had decided that there would be yoga classes for all students. It was the fifth grade’s first yoga class. The students walked into the storage room to pick up yoga mats.

“I saw it first,” Vikram said, grabbing a yoga mat from Anuj’s hands. Anuj was the quietest boy in class. He watched open-mouthed as Vikram strolled out of the storage room, carrying the yoga mat which Anuj had carefully dusted.

Students hauled their long mats to the sports ground, keeping a safe distance from Vikram, as no one wanted to be bullied by him.

Students sat in a cross-legged posture, known as the lotus posture. Sir D’Cruz, their physical instructor, demonstrated the first yoga asana. It was amazing how he twisted his body into a complicated posture so effortlessly. Most of the students struggled, making all kinds of groaning sounds as their muscles protested.

Vikram did his own version of yoga; his was the easy kind, with the least bit of effort involved. Though Sir D’Cruz frowned, he didn’t say a thing.

Most of the students followed Sir D’Cruz’s instructions carefully. They lay on their backs, with their knees pulled towards their chests, their hands holding each ankle.

Vikram’s grunts attracted amused looks from everyone. His legs were bent awkwardly, and his hands were twisted in a weird clasp beneath his legs instead of over them. Somehow, he had managed to turn the easy posture into a difficult one, getting himself entangled in an odd bind.

“That’s such a wonderful posture for him,” a boy named Atul grinned, staring at Vikram. In geometry class, Vikram had made Atul drill a hole in his notebook. The sharp point of the compass stabbed Atul’s paper with the force of a dagger when Vikram pushed the boy’s hand.

“I wish he remains like that forever; then he will bully no one,” Arjun said. He was Atul’s twin brother. Vikram had deliberately jostled Arjun’s elbow as he walked past him during biology class, ruining the boy’s diagram.

“Oh no,” Vikram whimpered in pain. “Help me, sir,” he moaned, as the muscles in his never-exercised body ached from the awkward position he had forced it into. “Boys, help him,” Sir D’Cruz said.

Trying valiantly to suppress their grins, Atul and Arjun untangled Vikram’s limbs by separating his legs and hands from their complicated bind.

“Vikram, you must improve your fitness,” Sir D’Cruz said, frowning, as Vikram rubbed his arms and legs, his face scrunched in discomfort.

Students sniggered as Vikram groaned in pain. Everyone knew he hated exercising. Vikram scowled at the students, instantly silencing them. Scared of his anger, most students pretended to cough and clear their throats. Unfortunately for the twins, Vikram saw their smirks.

“Better watch out for him,” Gina warned the twins.

For the next few minutes, Vikram stared at them as though they were a piece of extra gooey chocolate cake. The twins’ hands shook because when bullies stared at you, nasty plans bubbled in their devious minds.

“Now for the Suryanamaskar asana,” Sir D’Cruz said. “I’ll demonstrate the twelve steps. You all watch me, and then I’ll lead you into each step.”

All of a sudden, the entire school, including the teachers and the
principal, strolled into the sports ground to watch the fifth grade do their first yoga session.

With grace and ease, Sir D’Cruz demonstrated the twelve steps, effortlessly moving from one to the other.

“Now do along with me,” he said.

The class followed him, except Vikram. He was unable to do either the backward bend or the forward bend. His bullying tactics didn’t work on yoga, nor did his body cooperate. It was as though each part of his body bullied him. He fell flat on the ground while trying to touch his toes.

Students stopped their yoga practice and watched Vikram as he was unable to do a single step of the Suryanamaskar.

“Now I want you all to sit in the lotus posture, also called Padma asana,” Sir D’Cruz said. “Do the breathing exercises I taught you,” he instructed.

Vikram’s heart jumped into his mouth. “I can’t…” A strict look from the principal silenced him.

Students watched as Vikram, with tears in his eyes, his leg muscles protesting, huffed and puffed, trying to sit cross-legged on the yoga mat. He realised that this was what the children he bullied must have felt: shame and embarrassment.

After this incident, Vikram was a changed person. He stopped grabbing things from others. The very next week, he even helped Anuj carry the yoga mats to the sports ground.

Embarrassing himself in front of the whole school had taught him an important lesson. It was as though yoga had straightened the bully in him.

Taking it as a challenge, Vikram also managed to master the Suryanamaskar asana, impressing his teacher and classmates.