Bully and the bullied

Curled into a fetal position he lay on the desk. His arms were holding the bench tightly. The wind and rain rattled against the brittle windows of the classroom. The atmosphere inside the room was as cruel as it was outside.

The class was long over and it was getting dark. There he was staring at the walls with crumpled papers, chocolate wrappers strewn around. He wanted to avoid the crowd; hence he always started late to home.

Quite to the contrary he loved isolation and he hated the limelight the most. It was hauntingly difficult for him to be judged from all the sides. He did not mind the jabs, the taunts and the hatred. But he was sick of being pushed around, others messing into his privacy and stripping him of any respect. He wanted peace of mind and they were unwilling even to give a piece of that to him.

He always had been child neglect.

Another day: The train was almost empty save a couple of his classmates. One of them was hanging by the handle near the door. He looked content and at peace, he was staring at the grey skies with the breeze bellowing howls. Nature does strange things to people, kind and evil alike. If you are in a good mood an unpleasant weather would test your patience.

But if you are upset, a gentle breeze could uplift you up in a matter of seconds. He (the bully) seems to be content with the unusually pleasant weather outside and the fact that he could enjoy it in isolation.

His man Friday, a dorky lanky guy was snoring with his I pod on. The train was now thundering on the tracks as it hovered over a long but shallow lake. The noise overpowered any thoughts any one could have.

The day had been particularly unsettling for the bullied. Things got physical this time and the guys were shoving him around to show their superiority. He unhooks the safety pin which substituted the button on his ink stained shirt. It was symbolic as if to indicate that he was splitting at the seams.

He gingerly walks up to the bully by the door. The now-calm-pseudo-friend looks at him and says “Dude I am sorry for what happened” and gives a just-chill-bro look.

The bullied calmly says “but I am not” and pokes the pin under his ear. In an action of reflex the other guy touches the spot with his other hand, slowly realizing to his horror that he let go of hand which he was holding.  The coach moves on without him.

Now his hands hold the same handle which the bully had just vacated.

The bullied becomes the BULLY.

Stop Ragging.

A bully is born



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