The Tough Fight

Daaji, my grandfather, was a silent fellow who would dwell in sitting on the porch in the verandah relishing the tobocco and roasted supari (areca nut). I often saw him turning his face from one side to other watching people come and go in the chawl while munching his supari. I never saw him speaking to anyone. 

"Hey Daaji, how are you?" Daaji would raise his hand signalling he was ok. 

"Jai Bhim Daaji." Daaji would join his hand replying to the greeting. 

Three times a day, my mother would call, "Daaji, come inside. The meal is ready", and he would eat whatever was offered without any complaints. 

One would find Daaji always sitting on the porch in his loose white pyjama and white shirt and a Gandhi cap on his head. We kids used to hide that cap when he would sleep on the porch. 

I remember one story Daaji told us kids. 

We kids were in the verandah playing hide-and-seek. I was hiding behind Daaji and I saw a big scar on his thigh.Later, I gathered all the kids and told them about this big scar. We all went to him to ask what is it about, and he continued. 

"Those were the day when we used to go to Taalim (wrestling centre) for physical exercise. I was very strong at that time. I used to fight with five-six wrestlers at a go. My wrestling guru always used to give difficult tasks to me and I used to complete those tasks successfully. One day, he asked me to fight a demon, a ghost, the Khais."

Look, I went to school and leant till second class. So, I am proud to say that I am an educated fellow. I never believed in Gods and Ghosts, but I heard stories of the wrestler demon Khais who always sits on the top of a banyan tree. If he sees someone passing by, he would come down and challenge to wrestle with him. He would not leave until someone wins or dies."

"I accepted my Guru's challenge and on an amaavas night, I went in the outskirt of our village which was infamous for the barren land and the banyan tree and stories involving Khais. I was confident that there wouldn't be any ghost as it was just a superstition. It was dark like hell. The wind was blowing making whooshing sounds. From far behind I could listen to the cries of wolves. Was I scared? Hmm ... Somewhat. But I gathered courage and went under the tree and sat there waiting for the Khais to come."

"Suddenly, something fell from the tree branches with a loud thud. I jumped off my seat. It was him. He stood tall, twice taller than me. With a dark face and glowing green eyes, he challenged me by spanking his thigh loudly. 

"So you want to fight me, huh?"

I went closer to him to face him, to look into his eyes, and to show him that I have got eyes bigger than him.

"Either you win or be ready to die tonight", he said and jumped on me.

Now it was a real challenge for me to fight this 11 feet tall monster but I did not give up. I tried all the skills learnt in Taalim but he was too big and strong for a human like me. He threw me on the ground and was about to pound on me, but I quickly moved from there and sat on his shoulder. He jerked his head many times, but I was holding his hair with a firm grip. Then suddenly he used all his strength and gave a jerk to his head, and I fell down. I knew it was time to say Good-Bye to the world. but when I got up, I saw, he wasn't there. He disappeared. I looked at my hands. There was his hair that I pulled off his head. 
Next day, I went to my guru and told him everything about the previous night fight with the Khais. My guru said, "You pulled his hair out and that's a trick to win a fight against the Khais. But now you have to do one thing. You have to keep that hair inside your thigh muscle. Then and only then you will become the strongest wrestler in the whole village and you would live till 100 years." I had to follow my guru's advice. I brought a knife from the kitchen and cut opened my thigh. I put the hair and sewed the thigh again.

This scar on my thigh is the memory of my fight with the Khais."

Daaji was done with the story behind the scar. We heard my mother called him, "Daaji, come inside. The dinner is ready." Daaji left us in suspense.

Daaji, the one who we were considering a meek, harmless old man, had defeated the demon wrestler. Since that day, we kids used to look at Daaji with respect. We never teased him. We never hid his cap. 

(Short story by Amit Kharat)