He poured some in the glass and glugged. He obviously hadn’t shaved in weeks. Probably hadn’t bathed either. What is it with men, moods and chin hair? I wondered what women did when they were in a bit of a bother? Grew their nails and ignored their laundry? He hit me again. Harder this time. Staring at me with those wide brooding eyes. Mean one this fellow. But there was a sorrow in those mean eyes I hadn’t noticed. Like a lost dying star in a bright nebula. The bartender shot him a dirty look. Sitting at the back all these weeks, I’d noticed all the different types of drunks who walked into Mikey’s Bar. There were mostly four types I realized – the mean ones, the braggarts, the quiet ones and the singers. This one though, he was different. Mikey didn’t know what to make of this one. No one else did either. He was like a wolf in a pack of dogs. Lone; lonely maybe. But not out hunting. He hit me again and again. Putting me down at last with a harsh sound
Like every other middle class kid of the 60s and 70s, I was socialized and normalized at par for the time. There were some broad rules : Children were to be seen, not heard. Unfailing politeness, discipline and above all obedience, were the greatest virtues of a child. An obedient moron who routinely failed class, was preferable to a rebellious genius. With age, sons were allowed some liberties because they would soon be men and fathers themselves. Daughters were required to be maintained in situ condition - pure, virginal and foolish - till the next family took over their burden. But India is vast country with a ridiculously wide spectrum of cultures and priveleges. Within these broad parameters, experiences varied depending on the region or state you were born in, the caste one belonged to, the food we ate, the profession and status of our parents and the languages or even dialects you spoke. This was the age before the internet, when you couldn't get by merely through memes an