The Bullies and Pedophiles

Chapter 5: The Bullies and Pedophiles

I never thought that I would ever write about them.

Not because they were totally unknown to me, but I thought they were never part of my life experience as a child growing up in that picture perfect village. I could be wrong in assuming that.

As I had written earlier about my obesity causing all the trouble for me at school, I came to realize that there were bullies in every school who just spent their time making fun of other children and were able to get out of trouble by their jokes and popularity.

There was one such fellow in my class. Apparently he was already there before I and other students joined. The class consisted of all the fifth graders moved from various elementary schools. I moved from the elementary school along with three or four good friends. They all knew me.

The boy who was already in the class was repeating the year. Because of this, he knew everyone. He lived close to school and knew the alleyways near the school and all the senior students and teachers.

He knew my father as a teacher in the school. My father had many nephews and nieces as his students during the prior years. They all called him a name meaning like “little uncle.”

I did not know that it was my father's nickname among the senior students. But over the first few weeks I came to know that they are all making fun of me with my father’s nick name.

This was not a derogatory name and it did not bother me. But the fact is that whatever nickname you call someone, the effect is based upon the reason behind calling that name.

So this was bestowed upon me by the boy in the class. When I was sitting in the class, he kicked the bench multiple times to make my pen come out of the book or to cause difficulty in holding book in my hand. This torture continued along with drawing on the place where I sat, so that when I stood up, the writing would be visible over the dark trousers I wore.

My teachers paid no attention to these things and no one bothered to tell them.

Interestingly in the class, the bully picked on me only- at least that was what I felt at that time.

One day the teacher was late to arrive in the class during a post recess period.

  The boy continued with his usual past time of throwing paper arrows towards my head and broken chalk pieces while singing a latest movie song. Many of my class mates were just laughing and giggling while watching my helpless plight. This continued for few moments. Then the boy climbed up on the desks, jumping from one to another and placed himself on a bench facing me.

I was so mad. I stood up, and seeing my face, he knew that this was taking a different turn. Without showing his surprise, he started teasing me with names, and was also probably thinking that I was a coward and having my father working in the same school, I wouldn’t dare to start a fight in the class room.

But he was wrong. I walked towards him, pushing off my desk with my own books on them.

I saw my friends hurriedly retrieving my books, the pencils, erasers, the bits and bobs from the geometry instrument box fell open on the floor, and rearranging the fallen benches behind me. I felt the power, the gathering momentum in my mind. I was not sure, however what I would’ve done to him or what could happen to me once this fight was over.

I kept moving towards him, who by this time realized that something might go terribly wrong in that fifth grade class room where all the thirty children staring at him, being cornered, trapped between a desk and the wall beside.

He then thought his plan, the last resort.

“Come on…””come on… fight with me you ****”

That was the last sentence I could let him finish.

I lifted up the bench at one end, sliding him to the ground. He fell on his back, could not get out as trapped between the furniture. His sandals flew to the corner, which then someone kicked to far, so that he could not get it.

Then I saw him crying. That was surprising that  the greatest bully I knew till that time was crying infront of the class.

I did not have anything else to do.

The whole class took over the onslaught, throwing chalk pieces and paper arrows at him.

I heard him saying that he was going to complain to my father about this. I was somewhat shaken by this whole incident and he just uttered my greatest fear of all.

However he did not read my mind.
 I just walked to my desk. I kept my head straight

Everything was quiet, except other children calling him nicknames.

It was finally their turn. I just made it easy for them.

Against all odds, I realized that he became my close friend in the following months. He forgot about that incident and we never spoke about it.  It was a great change. He never bullied me. He never bullied anyone for that matter.

I was not sure that a concussion changed his mind.

It could be that he was somewhat insecure in himself and was overwhelmed by the new students coming to his class where he felt he was the “dumbest person”

Over the coming months, I learned lot of survival tactics from him. We did not resort to any bullying or join any gangs. 
He told me about the pedophiles near the school.

I had seen those men always stayed near the school entrance and whistling at girls and passing dirty comments. They had no jobs. They all failed the high school exam and just spent time gossiping and playing cards near the school. Sometimes they volunteered in the athletic days and the arts festival days helping the teachers. They stayed in the open classrooms after the school session was over, smoking Cigarettes and Marijuana. They talked about the local prostitutes and their made up stories about past trips to the city where they actually had sex with film actresses.

I was not however sure what they might do with the young boys. However they always made fun of the children’s legs which were visible below the short knickers we wore.

Some of these people knew my father as he was their teacher in the high school. When they approached me and if they noticed that my father was around, they would go away.

My father probably never knew what these people were like. If I had asked about them, my father would scold me for spending time outside the class and hanging around with those “undesirables”

Some of these men were funny, so children were always following them. They threw rocks at mango trees and gave the children mangoes. When they won the card games, they brought sweets and ice popsicles to children. They gave free ride to children on their bike to school.

However the danger lurked. I was not sure whether some of the children were abused. I knew forsure, that some children always spent time with those grown up men.

There were no societal regulations against it. Every neighbor accepted children to their house. Everyone thought that children were safe with someone they knew for years.

Interestingly over many years in that school, I came to know these gangs. I was quite sure that some people abused boys as their excuse for not going to prostitutes. Some of them were just pedophiles.

I spent my  weekends in those years playing with my cousins in the neighborhood. 
One of the uncles had built a strip of shops and there were barbershop, grocery shops, Tailor etc. 
The barber shop will have all the film magazines and newspapers to read free. When I hang around with tailoring shop, I learned the techniques of sewing. Some of the tailors worked for some time and then went with us for walks.

I enjoyed their stories and gossips about the locals. I will go home to eat lunch and then hang around if I get time to play with my cousins.

One such trip was somehow ended up in something totally unexpected. It was afternoon. One of the guys in the tailoring shop and the assistant tailor told me that they are going to the nearby town and asked me to go with them, so that they will walk me  home. It was just normal to walk with them.

When we reached near my house, while narrating the stories, they went to a building close to my house. It was Sunday and the building was closed. At that time there was not much traffic in the street. There was nothing for a sixth grader to worry about in that neighborhood. Everyone knew me. I was also near my house.

We then sat on the smooth cemented corridor, enjoying the breeze and talked about the new movies getting released. 
 In the country, it was (still) normal for men to place arms around friends or hug them, without any sexual connotations. So when this man who sat next to me placed his left arm around my neck, I did not feel anything different. However then I saw him holding my hand and placing in the middle of his groin over his clothes, I was puzzled. While talking about the movie, this was totally unexpected. I pulled my hand away, but felt that he was gripping my hand so strong as well as trying to stroke against his engorged organ under his clothes.

That was the moment I realized that the whole charade of walking with me and being friendly to me had a different meaning. I am so happy that I was smart enough to run away from that corridor of vulnerability without being hurt physically and emotionally. But I was not sure about other children of my age.

Afterwards my mission was to break their racket from preying on our friends. I never spent any time hanging around these men. Many of my friends knew who the pedophiles were. Interestingly there were stories about the local priest in the church going around with boys, but no adults seemed to end these, and talked as it was just a joke. One of our neighbors, a boy younger than me was promised a part in movies by a well-known pedophile and actor who went to make movies and made that as his easy way to get to children.

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