her best to ignore the whistles coming her way. There seemed to be no other passengers on the bus. As Arnab looked at the scene before him, he wondered what a shame it was that even today, young women were not really safe on Delhi's streets, even in broad daylight and on a public bus. The girl looked no more than eighteen, and while clearly uncomfortable with the attention she was getting, was already a veteran at coping with what was euphemistically known in today's India as 'eve teasing'. Suddenly one of the boys looked at Arnab and he realized that he had been staring at them for way too long.
'What are you looking at, four-eyes?'
His friend responded by saying that Arnab probably had the hots for the girl on the bus. Arnab looked away quickly, flushed with shame and anger, but not daring to look back up. One of the boys took a step in his direction, but his friend stopped him saying, 'Forget that joker, let's chat with our heroine here.' Arnab still didn't dare look up. He was pretending to read, but was actually simmering in his impotent rage. He knew what he was witnessing was wrong, and that someone, he, should try and stop it. But the rational part of his mind told him that there was nothing he could do, that to intervene would just get him hurt, or worse, that tangling with such ruffians was somehow beneath him. So, like millions of Indian men, he used various excuses and self-justifications as a fig leaf to cover the simple fact that he was either too scared, or too apathetic to do anything about it.
The verbal harassment continued for several minutes more, the girl remaining silent through it all. Arnab was hoping that she would soon leave the bus or that the two boys would tire of it and leave. But things suddenly took a turn for the worse. The two boys settled themselves on a seat across the girl, and took out hip flasks, the contents of which they proceeded to guzzle down neat. Even at a distance of a few feet, the stench of country liquor was unmistakable to Arnab.
'Rajesh, I haven't screwed in a long time. I think today's my lucky day.'
The girl sensed what was coming and screamed at the driver to stop the bus. But as she got up to try and leave, two things happened in quick succession. The boy who had just been referred to as Rajesh rushed over to the driver and snapped out a small knife, telling him not to stop if he wanted to live; and the other boy grabbed the girl from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth. As he dragged her towards the back of the bus, he came within touching distance of Arnab, who was now terrified out of his mind. He brought his face within a few inches of Arnab's and growled,
'Get the fuck out of this bus or I'll tear you apart.'
Arnab recoiled from the stench of alcohol on the boy's breath. He was frozen in place with fear when the boy shouted at him again to get lost. In almost a reflex action, Arnab got up and began picking up his bag, when his eyes caught those of the girl. Her mouth was covered by the boy's large and callused hand, but her eyes were wide with terror. As Arnab began to walk past them, she managed to prise the hand off her mouth and shouted after him,
'For God's sake, please don't leave me here with them!'
Arnab didn't know quite what to do, but he gathered the courage to turn around and face the boy.
'Please let her go. Please.'
He was ashamed when he realized just how plaintive his tone had been, and even more so when the boy laughed in his face saying, 'Are you deaf or what? Get off this bus now.'
Arnab wished he could have marched up to the boy and smashed his face in, like one of his fictional idols, but reminded himself that he was but a weak and scared man, and no match for these goons. As he asked the driver to stop the bus, he began formulating a plan in his mind. As soon as he got off, he would call the police from his cellphone, giving the bus number and details of the incident, and hope that they got there in time. But before he could do so, things went horribly wrong.
The girl mustered up all the strength she could and kicked out at the boy's shin. Surprised, he let his grip on her loosen and she bolted for the door, and ran straight into Arnab. The boy caught up with her a split second later, and pushed her hard into a seat, screaming at her to not try anything stupid. He then faced Arnab, his eyes bloodshot from the alcohol and anger.
'Get out, unless you want to join in and enjoy what's left of her when we're finished.'
Arnab wasn't looking at him; his eyes were locked on the girl. As he saw her lying there, bleeding from the lip where she had struck the seat, his anger boiled over. Without realizing it, he felt himself crying. He was angry with himself for being such a coward, and for being so weak. He looked at the book in his left hand and realized what a hypocrite he was, for reading about great men and their courage, while his courage had been limited to intellectual debates as he sat in evening chat sessions with his college mates in Calcutta. He was all talk, but even he had limits, and he realized today he had reached his breaking point. As he looked at the girl, he realized he could not live with himself if he left her here to be raped while he escaped to the cocooned and make-believe world of his middle-class respectability. He knew he didn't stand a chance, but today for a change, Arnab Bannerjee was not going to look the other way and walk away.
As he turned towards the boy and looked him in the eye, the boy laughed out loud, spitting in his face. As Arnab instinctively turned his face away, the boy lunged at him, shooting out his right fist, aiming at Arnab's head.
That was when things became very strange.
Arnab looked up to see the boy's fist coming at him, but the strange thing was that it seemed to be moving in excruciatingly slow motion. For a second, Arnab watched in fascination as the fist arched in towards his face, and then realized that if he just stood there, he was going to be knocked out cold. While he didn't understand why the boy was moving so slowly, he ducked out of the way and moved a foot to his right.
The boy never saw Arnab weave away, and continued through with the momentum of his punch, losing his balance, and falling onto a seat. He looked up at Arnab with fury and disbelief. His friend was about to move towards Arnab when he stopped him.
'Are you crazy Rajesh? I can rip his head off with one hand.'
He took one more swing at Arnab, who again seemed to move out of the way with unnatural speed. Arnab still didn't understand what was going on, but realized that hoping that the boy's slow motion punches continued and that he could dodge them all was not a smart strategy to survive this fight. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been in a fight and had little idea of where to hit or how, but he balled his hands into fists and waited for the boy to strike again. The boy lunged a third time, and this time once again Arnab stepped out of the way of his blow. However, instead of just moving away, he shot his right hand out in an ungainly punch that he was sure would miss the boy completely.
The boy never saw it coming. Arnab's fist shot out in a blur of movement and hit him on his jaw, producing a cracking noise as several teeth broke. From the front of the bus, his friend watched in horror as he went down to the ground in a heap. Even more horrified was Arnab, who looked uncomprehendingly at the boy lying at his feet. He looked dumbly at his hands, as if seeking an explanation for what had just happened. The second boy was onto him in a flash, swinging his knife wildly from side to side. As had happened with his friend, Arnab watched in fascination as the boy seemed to move towards him in slow motion, and he simply stepped out of the way to avoid the first two knife thrusts. Frustrated and angry, the boy stabbed at Arnab's throat, but Arnab sidestepped him, bringing his left hand around in an arc and completed the turn by smacking the boy on the back of his head with the book he had been holding in his left hand. The combination of the momentum of his knife thrust and the force of Arnab's blow sent the boy flying some ten feet towards the back of the bus, where he landed with a thud, and didn't get up.
With both the boys out cold, Arnab came back to his senses and took stock of what was going on. The girl was looking at him goggle-eyed, and the driver had stopped the bus, saying, 'I've brought us to a Police Station.'
Within minutes, constables had boarded the bus and hauled both unconscious boys away and Arnab found himself sitting before a fat, paan-chewing Inspector, whose badge read 'Samit Mediratta'.
'So what happened on the bus? Was there a fight between two gangs?' he demanded.
'Actually, sir, they were bothering this girl, and I guess I fought them.'
'You?' The Inspector's voice was filled with disbelief.
'Look, if you're trying to cover up for some friends who did this, tell me.'
