Gau-Rakshak: Homecoming
The Ghar Vaapsi Of Logic
DISCLAIMER — This is a work of fiction and so are the characters. Nevertheless, if it relates to your sensibilities and spiritual beliefs, please feel free to murder people who are in disagreement.
“Who am I? You sure you want to know? The story of my life is not for the faint of heart? If somebody said that it was a happy little tale; if somebody told you that I was just your average ordinary guy with not a care in the world — somebody lied. But let me tell you — this, like any other story worth telling, is about a girl. The ultimate girl next door.”
“Wait a minute!”, I interrupted ignoring his discernible annoyance. “Isn’t that the intro monologue of Toby Maguire’s Spiderman?”
“Uh… no its not”, he said rolling his eyes. “and what is Tobi Mugvirus Piedarman?”
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked out of disbelief.
He folded his hands heaving a sigh of exasperation and started staring at my shoes. The tapping sound of his left foot tore through the quiet of my living room. I signaled the camera guy to stop rolling and shifted closer to him.
“Hey, look man. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have interrupted you. I am just a huge Marvel fan and have to prove it every five minutes otherwise a kid in Africa switches to DC. Please go on with your story”, I said. He continued to stare at my shoes but eventually locked eyes with me.
“And you won’t interrupt?”, he asked like a person who was hurt deeply.
“No, I won’t.”
“And won’t question my story just because you like Marbles?”, he confirmed.
“No, I won’t. Its Marv… Never mind.”
“And won’t paint me as a liar and a mad brainless fanatic in the final cut to gratify the self-righteous pseudo-liberal community of social media activists and meme makers?” His eyes welled up.
“Uh… too many layers to that question but, no, I won’t”, I assured him. He jumped back up with the energy of the toddler who just had a belly full of Cerelac in that old commercial. I signaled for the camera to start rolling.
“Alright, where was I? Yeah… So, I was not the most popular kid in school. Orphaned at a very young age, I was often bullied because of my ultra conservative Hindu Uncle and Aunt with whom I lived. They’d make me wear khadi pants and Gandhi cap to school. I had a huge crush on this girl named — Meera Jain…” — he took a pause as he caught a hint of skepticism in my eyes but I hid it quick enough for him to continue speaking — “…who never talked to me on account of, what I believed was my uncool bearing. I had only one friend, Hari Oswal, whose father — Naman Oswal, was a businessman trying to modernize the slaughterhouse businesses in that area. Hari was not really fond of his father’s money minded ways. Our school principal was a huge fan of Hindu mythology and organized excursions to farms where we learned how everything that a cow produces is more precious that gold. On one such trip, I accidentally entered a barn and got bitten by a pregnant cow. I didn’t pay much attention to the cow bite then but next morning, things changed. Everything rational appeared blurred and imperceptible but once I took off my rationality glasses, everything was as clear as day, only with a tinge of saffron. I could sense a new found strength in my body and sheer hatred for liberal thoughts in my heart. An ardent desire to pick up a laathi and charge at people spewing sound logic consumed me. That very day, I beat up the most popular kid in my school with whom Meera was close friends because he argued with me during lunch break on how the new radicalized Hindutva ideology is slowly killing our five thousand years old religion.”
Room fell quiet for a minute as he paused to recollect his thoughts.
“My uncle heard about my fight and to show his approval, bought me a motorbike. It was a TVS Splendour which, sort of, killed my excitement because I was expecting something more powerful. Seeing my disappointment, my uncle said, ‘Son, with great power comes really bad mileage.’ I didn’t take him seriously then and threw enough tantrums to make him return that bike and buy me a 500 cc Bullet instead. The biggest mistake of my life. Because a few weeks later, my uncle was found beaten to death on the street. Apparently, he tried to forcefully shut a meat shop alone, which he suspected of selling cow beef. His only mistake was that he took my bike which I was avoiding to fuel up again for the third time that week. Bad mileage digs really deep into your pockets. Unfortunately for my uncle, that bike never started in time and the meat shop guys had really sharp blades.
The death of my uncle changed me and I took up cow vigilantism full time. This affected my studies but Meera discovered a newfound infatuation towards me. That combined with the fact that I got into an altercation with Hari’s father which resulted in him being dead and Hari hating cow vigilantism. He still doesn’t know it was I who beat his father to pulp with my laathi but the fact that he will some day and then we’ll be arch nemeses gives me restless nights. Thing is that, no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I always end up hurting the ones closest to me. But whatever life holds in store for me, I will never forget these words: “With great power comes really bad mileage.”
This is my gift, and my curse.
Who am I?
Do you really want to know?
I’m Gau-rakshak.”
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