The Chomuism of Society

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I rolled down my window to feel the fresh air on my face as the car cruised smoothly at 70 km/h, but my joy lasted only fifteen minutes, we entered the city.
Honk, honk: reckless driving, breaking laws, traffic jams.
My joy died down; I closed the window and turned on the AC.
Still, sitting in the car was better than being out there in the jam on a two-wheeler.
I recognised my privilege.
As the vehicles moved like tortoises, I got caught up in my own thoughts.
I remembered the time when we didn’t have a car, we used to take shabby public buses that emitted black smoke. Sitting in the car was far more comfortable.
I remembered that the roads were not so densely packed; as a country we have progressed, it seems.
I was pulled out of my thoughts when I saw a guy shouting at my car. I tried to make sense of it, then I saw the yellow brake lights, he wanted to reverse his car in this tightly packed jam. I looked around to see where he wanted to go, but there was nowhere to go.
I reluctantly lowered my window and asked, “Yahan kahan reverse kar rahe ho, bhai?”
He smugly said, “Main jahan bhi jaun, gaadi peeche le.”
Something broke inside me. The thread severed. I got out of my car, opened the trunk, took the baseball bat I kept for emergencies, and faced that pot-bellied uncle. I tightened my grip on the bat, ready to smash his face.
I could see the fear on his face when he saw me bring out the baseball bat, he knew I wasn’t one to be messed with. He frantically got into his car and drove off.
I realised that what I did was reckless and close to berserk, but it had to be done. Indian society is often based on how rowdy you are: you can earn respect, but fear is more easily achieved.
Nothing happened to me; my life went on as before. I knew it was a risky thing to do, but sometimes you have to hold your ground.