'Again!' his coach's voice rang in his ears as he was mid air, crashing to the ground. As he hit the ground ear first, the ringing amplified in his head - again and again. He was not particularly gifted physically. Or mentally. By all means, he was just average. He'd been in this school 4 years now and hardly anyone in his class noticed him outside of the physical education class. And that was not because he was an athlete of repute. It was because he was the one who always lasted longest. Running, he wasn't first but he didn't stop the track halfway. Throwing, he always got it right the second time. Swimming, he always got the requisite laps in, even if he was behind the others. Wrestling and boxing, he was the partner of choice, because he rarely fought back, but took a lot of punishment without staying down for long.
'Ya gotta channel that grit into something else, kid!' his coach, Mr. Gold would say, trying to get him interested in taking up a sport over the others. He believed he had some kind of hidden potential, see. But no one knew. The kid wasn't interested in any of that. He just wanted to experience it all. Every punch from every one. Everything around him. He wanted to observe and learn. He wanted to take it all in and store in his head. Even he didn't know what he was doing all this for on some days. Maybe he was preparing for something. He just didn't know. But he kept at it, nonetheless.
'So, junior? How long did you last today? Did you make it to the end?' his father always asked the same question. The father had a very strict policy to see through things he started and hoped beyond hope that his son learnt the same. He love his son to the moon and back. He encouraged his son to talk about the problems he had at school. Thankfully, they didn't go beyond the occasional 'freak' some jock would yell at him out of jealousy for his stamina and endurance. He taught his son both things - to ignore and to stand up for himself. And son did. Anytime anyone threw a punch, he fended it off. He hadn't thrown one back, yet, for reasons he couldn't identify, but he made sure the other person knew he wouldn't take it lying. His name was Matt Singh and he was a warrior for as long as he could remember. 'We fight, son, because we want to inspire others to stand up for themselves'. Nothing more, nothing less'.
Jith was a truck driver. He drove during the day across states when his son was at school. He usually returned by the time Matt returned from the gym late evening everyday. His wife and Matt's mother, Jan died at childbirth. Jith remembered Jan's last words: Stay strong, for the both of you. On some days, when he thought back to the incident, weirdly enough, he thought she was maybe talking to their infant son and not him. He smiled to himself, musing at how his wife always made him smile, no matter what. He was running a little late that day; one too many traffic stops and over enthusiastic policemen looking to rip anyone under the excuse of DUI. Trying to recall if there was any food Matt could microwave, he leaned on the accelerator.
Matt got up, steadying himself from the imbalance the ringing in his ears caused. 'Put 'em up, kid. You know you still got more in you' Mr. Gold was an old fashioned man who always rooted for the underdog. The guy no one else saw any worth in. 'Yeah, come on, you freak'. Matt's opponent was edging him on, hoping to impress his girlfriend who was waiting outside the ring. Just as Matt got his fists up, he felt his opponent's training gloves connect with his forearms. The punch that previously knocked him to his feet now didn't feel heavy at all. He could feel the force of it dying the moment it hit connected. 'A perfect block' he thought to himself. His opponent was frustrated 'I just floored him with this punch, what the hell?'
Matt got ready for the next volley and come it did. His opponent was determined to knock him out, proving his superiority. The punches didn't faze Matt, unsurprisingly. It was always this way. The second time was always in his favor. It was only the first that hurt him. Mr. Gold was eyeing Matt with pride. 'That was good, kid. Now why don't you throw a punch for once, eh? Come on. A fight is more than just defending, ya gotta show the other guy he has to stay away from you!' Before he could take a decision, the fist connected again. This time, it was above his eye. 'You think you're better than me? you can't even throw a punch! You're no good' his opponent spat at him and walked away. Any other day, he would've let it slide, but today he felt different. Something was eating at him, trying to breakout. And he was going to let it out. He was going to throw a punch, finally. 'Gong!' Mr. Gold shouted, stepping in between the two. Tuck, good show. Stop getting so damn carried away. Learn to read your opponent. Matt, learn to throw a bloody punch, kid. Or you're going to be stepped on your whole life. Even if you can take it, doesn't mean you should. We'll meet tomorrow, now scoot! Mr. Gold was a punctual man and he closed his gym at the same time everyday. Matt wiped the blood off from above his eye and got changed. Realizing his dad wasn't there to pick him up, he started his walk home. It was a little far but he was used to the route. 'Maybe I'll get a nice run in on my way back' he thought, breaking into a brisk jog.
'Are you alright? Thank god there was no collision! I don't know how this happened, glad no one got hurt, right?' Jith had narrowly avoided a crash a few blocks away from his place. Since their place was close to the state border, the traffic was a little unruly. His truck had narrowly missed colliding with another and he was just glad no one got hurt. The people in the other car just got out. It was two guys, probably returning from a booze run, based on the swagger in their walk. 'Yo, you almost killed us man, what the hell?' 'Hey, you said almost. We good?' 'You think that's going to fix this? All my booze is spilled. You going to pay for that?' 'That's not my fault. You're clearly drunk. Just walk away, man' 'You telling me what to do, man? Hey, what'd we do to the last guy who tried that?' 'Oh yeah, that was neat, dude. So, you going to pay for our booze, man?' 'Son, walk away. I don't want any trouble. I almost lost control of my truck, you were drunk. How about we call it even and have a good night? This is a busy center, who knows when the cops might walk in?' 'Did you just threaten me, man? Oh, now you are definitely paying me my money back!' The two of them rushed at Jith, pounding away at the forearms he'd put up to defend himself. He could feel what was going to happen, with the force of each blow making him clench his fists a little less tighter.
Another 5 minutes and he'd be home. Matt was making good time on his run and was looking forward to reaching home and fixing dinner for his dad. Maybe some chicken - his train of thought was interrupted by grunts and jeers. There were a couple of people assaulting someone. He was curious as to who would be so brazen on this busy road. 'I should probably call the police' he wanted to get some proof before the police could dismiss his complaint. But once he got closer, he saw what was happening. 'Get up, dad!' he yelled, as he jumped in, trying to fend the blows off. 'You got a kid, old man? This just got interesting!' They turned their attention to Matt, giving Jith a brief respite from the violence. Jith was trying to sit up and get his bearings, his ringing ears and misty eyes getting in the way of understanding who it was bought him those few moments.
Matt was having trouble guarding against two people. The pain wasn't as much, fortunately. As usual, after the first blow, he felt little pain. But he couldn't do anything but guard. 'Junior! What are you doing?' Jith just came to his senses. 'Get out of here!' 'Why do we fight, dad? Why do we fight?' 'You think you can just talk? Here comes the big one!' A kick with the weight of a full grown man landed in Matt's stomach, knocking his breath out and throwing him a few feet away. This hurt. Groaning, he got up. 'Leave my dad alone!' 'So the kid can take a few hits more than his old man. Big surprise. See if you can take this, you punk' he charge at Matt rabidly. 'It's not a fight if you just defend, junior. Why don't you try throwing a punch instead of defending?' He thought back to the ring with Tucker. How he had almost thrown a punch. He visualized the same feeling again and did it. He threw a punch. His first ever with the conviction to actually hit his opponent.
His fist connected, but not with flesh. With steel. Apparently, one of his assailants was wearing a glove with a metal plate in it. 'Agh! Matt pulled his fist back in pain.His assailant was clutching his fist in agony. 'What did you do, you freak?' Matt saw just then - he had dislocated the attacker's wrist and now it was causing him agony. But if he was strong enough to punch through a metal plate, why did his fist hurt so much? He didn't have much time to ponder over that thought because he could see the other guy run back to the car and pull something out. A baseball bat made of metal. 'You're done for now, I'm going to beat your brains in with this'. 'Matt, remember. It's not a fight if you don't throw a punch' Jith's words fell on deaf ears, since Matt was already charging at his assailant.
Matt felt his fist connect with the metal bat. He should've felt pain. He should've broken or at least dislocated his wrist, punching a lump of solid metal as hard as he did. But he didn't feel any of that. He felt a brief amount of pressure when his fist connected with the bat and then a screams and whimpering. The next thing he saw, the two attackers were climbing back into the car and running away. 'Dad, you okay? Dad!' Matt rushed to Jith. 'Yeah, I'm fine, junior. Just a few scratches and bruises, no more. Let's go home.' 'Sure, let me help you up'. As they walked back, Jith spoke up 'When did you get so jacked?' Matt saw his arm and took a few minutes to identify it. It was a muscular
No comments:
Post a Comment