2004 – 2 Inevitably, Dhawal and I soon came about at loggerheads. One day in March, in a fit of temper, I bashed up Dhawal as he was beating his helpless, elderly mother. Violence other than those in movies and sports disgusts me, but somehow, that day I fought like Mike Tyson. I punched Dhawal and his wife – she was scratching my face and neck which i could not bear – so hard, both fell on their heads with a crunching thud simultaneously. And then it happened – a sudden gush of blood from Dhawal’s head splattering all over and on the floor. For a moment, I was horrified; I thought he might die accidentally. Instead, this fellow got up, undeterred, blood all over his body, and then sprinted for the Police Station a few blocks away. His wife followed suit. It was about 11 in the morning. The police took me in at around 9 o clock in the evening. Mrs Barmukh yelled, pleaded and negotiated on my behalf. Dhawal had given the police a huge sum of money to thrash “this Nepali.” Fortunately for me, the police knew Dhawal was a crackpot. They accepted his money, but kept me safely. I found it amusing. Around 2 am, Mrs Barmukh shelled out Rs 10,000 and dispatched me on a celebration somewhere. For the rest of the year, Dhawal would live in mortal fear of me.
Posted on: Mon, 18 Nov 2013 04:38:51 +0000
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