of bulls and bullies

‘Chutiya!’ My friend laughed, when he was told what this little boy could do. We stood there for a while watching him, one really had to pay attention to just notice the rather unassuming little fellow sitting on a log chewing a neem stick. The fact that he could not speak further helped in giving the impression that he wasn’t there at all because he was so….quiet. Dusty feet, nay dusty legs….unkempt hair, a really soiled shirt – a glance at him and one could easily conclude there wasn’t anything about him that could actually make an impression. We also knew (not that it was difficult to figure out) he was from the poorer side of the village, the part inhabited by the servants of my friend’s grandfather. But such hasty conclusions would be drawn by someone who missed looking into his eyes. It is invariably the case that the absence of one sense organ naturally improves another. This chap was born deaf which meant he would never learn to pronounce anything which automatically made him ‘dumb’. But dumb was definitely not the picture his eyes painted. They were narrow, light and sharp! Transparent but gave away nothing. His face gave away nothing. Those eyes would just bear down upon you and leave you wondering what he must be thinking about you…something you would never know! Not that it was important to us at that time anyway. We were brash 15 year olds and one of us practically owned the whole village. Our sense of superiority would never allow us to wonder about what an illiterate, poor and handicapped boy was thinking. ‘He really can do it!’ bellowed Prabha. Prabha was the son of the gardener who was taking us around the village. He had taught us to pelt stones at the passing trains earlier that morning. We had had a whale of a time doing that until we got tired, and then we beat him up accusing him of teaching us a ‘bad’ thing. The fact that my friend (and I at times) treated him like an absolute animal never deterred him from his usual behavior, which was expected of a rustic such as him. Anyway, he was nothing too important, not in the context of this incident or in the context of anything existent.
‘He will do it for you! He likes you two!’ Prabha interrupted my thoughts again. I was trying to find a sign of affection in his face when Prabha made a gesture and he nodded. The deal was this – there was this bull that had apparently gone wild with the coming of the mating season and nobody to mate with. It had almost killed one man and destroyed considerable amount of property as a result of which it was now kept in isolation, in an area considered sufficient for it and this was expected to calm it down. This attempt was clearly failing as the animal remained just as fierce even after a week. What this little fellow was going to do was get into the compound which had the bull, run to the boundary wall on the other end and make a mark on it. The bull did not take too kindly to anyone even setting foot into the compound, let alone marking on his territory; so the boy had to dodge and outrun the bull to get to the entrance of the compound which had to be shut by us once he was out. A mere look at the bull scared us; it was a powerful creature, the short and stout type, so the idea of this ‘stunt’ was really thrilling. Our participation in this scheme was a little beyond an audience. We had to lure the bull to one corner of the compound so that the feat could be performed and then open, shut and bolt the heavy gate of the compound – a feat that required the efforts of at least 2 of us boys.
We did our first part easily by pelting a few pebbles at the bull and drawing it to the corner we wanted and the little one jumped into the compound from a branch. The bull started towards him the moment he entered the place. It was going to be tight but we watched in amazement as he darted between the few trees that were there, made the mark with a small brick and ran out of the place just as we bolted the gates shut. The bull never came for the gate Prabha told us. It would always stop the moment it was closed. Gogi as the little one was called, smiled for the first time that morning while gasping for breath, with an expression which was asking us if we finally considered him good enough to pay attention to. That was when my friend came up with his challenge. He asked Prabha if Gogi was willing to do what he just did 3 times for 5 rupees. Prabha appeared to be thrilled at my friend’s idea but his eyes gave away his actual feelings. Five rupees was way too good to resist anyway. He needed some time to persuade Gogi into agreement which he finally managed and so the show started.
The first couple of runs went off pretty smoothly, as a spectacle at least and Gogi was really out of breath by the end of the second run which had been rather close – I was at the open end of the gate and hence the only person who could see what was happening inside before we closed it. One couldn’t see through the gate. He asked for some time to catch his breath but my friend was rather adamant that he do it at once or forget the money. We went about our part of drawing the bull to the corner as I watched Gogi from the corner of my eye, struggling to climb the tree because of sheer exhaustion. I joined Prabha in trying to persuade my friend into giving Gogi some time to rest when he flashed me this look full of rage, full of hatred…a look that made me feel like one of ‘them’ instead of his friend. Gogi landed in the compound for the final time but this time the bull was waiting. It was alert and bolted towards Gogi even before he hit the ground – this was going to be close as the cheering by my friend suggested. We ran to the gate and took our positions, my friend at the far end this time since it was his turn to look inside. He was the one guiding us on when to close it. He was really excited and kept screaming ‘almost! almost!’ and then suddenly ‘now!’ which made us shut the gate in a flash with him bolting it even before we let go of the gate - but there was no Gogi. He was still inside. The third run had been so close that all my friend had seen was the bull coming at him and in his fear had completely forgotten about the little fellow. The first sound that I had ever heard Gogi make is still one of the most horrifying sounds I have ever heard. It was not in any language because he couldn’t speak any, it was one of immense fear. It was a pitch that was way apart from the highest octave that his voice could achieve…rather, it was this bawling that just stuck to you ears, like the one from the movie The Exorcist – only, I never found those noises scary after this. The bawling receded to a weak plea of mercy as he started banging on the gate. Prabha and I tried pulling the gate open while my friend tried to undo the bolt. We were unknowingly negating each others’ efforts as our pulling only tightened the bolt. All this happened in 4 seconds after my friend had closed the bolt. Suddenly, the banging from the other side stopped and was replaced by another really ugly scream from Gogi which was followed by a grunt from the bull. That was when Prabha started his shouting. I looked at my friend in shock and realized both of us were crying. Suddenly I saw Prabha climb a tree and screaming with both his hands on his head. Then he looked down at us, I still remember his eyes – they had the same look when my friend had spoken about his challenge from the first time. It was far scarier this time as his mouth was open in a soundless scream…we bolted the scene. Too scared to open the gate again, we ran as if death was chasing us. I could hear Prabha following us screaming Gogi’s name. I don’t know how much time we took to reach my friend’s house (which was 20 minutes walk from that place) but I know we never stopped running till we went indoors. We ran into different rooms, I don’t remember where Prabha was. I could hardly breathe when I collapsed on the floor weeping. I think I wept for an eternity before someone woke me up in the evening. I had caught a high fever and my friend never stepped out of his room. I saw a couple of the villagers in the courtyard talking to my friend’s grandfather; I think one of them was crying. We left the village at 4 am the next morning, 2 days ahead of our scheduled departure. I was still numb and did not dare to ask my friend anything about the incident. He went away to Bangalore the next week as his father was settling there. This was during the summer vacations and my friend did not come back to boarding the next year.
I shuddered at a mere mental recollection of the incident and could not bring myself to tell this to anybody except one person. I have spent many a sleepless night thinking about Gogi and I spend one more to write this down as I finally know now. My friend called me a few hours ago. Got my phone number from another friend courtesy Facebook. We spoke for only the second time after that incident and it’s been 5 years since we have spoken last. All he said after the ‘hello’ was ‘Gogi is safe. The villagers saved him after Prabha got help. I found this out a couple of months after I started school in Bangalore. I thought it was important that you know this’ I realize now that Prabha was not actually running away with us but running to get help. And I stand corrected - yes he is important in every context of the words I have written. I have long grown to shed the feeling of false superiority that I felt that day but the lesson stands reinforced. Another demon laid to rest…