The Chomuism of Society

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.