One morning Mother asked me to accompany her to the market. There was a lot of shopping to do and she could not possibly carry it all back alone. We had almost completed all the shopping when an incident occurred that was going to change a lot of things in my life.
A bunch of loafers had been sitting on a rock and ogling at Mother while she made some purchases at the butcher's shop. Mother always has been quite an eyeful, and turned heads wherever she went, but these guys went beyond the limits of decency. They started passing remarks at her.
"Hey, beautiful, when are you calling me over to your house?" One of them called out to Mother. "I'll put that wonderful body of yours to its proper use."
"What a fantastic piece of goods she is." Another one remarked. "Fucking her is something one could happily die for."
"I am ready to die right now if I am given the chance to screw her arse." The third one said.
I could not believe what I was hearing. My blood began to boil inside me. I could feel Mother squeeze my arm entreating me to keep quiet. However, the rage I felt was beyond my control. I confronted the guys and got into a fight with them. I got in a few good blows but it was an unequal battle. I was alone against three much bigger guys and I was soon overpowered. I was struck down to the ground. I had blood gushing out from my nose, while my lips were smashed and an eye blackened. The guys began raining kicks on me as I lay on the ground. Fortunately for me some onlookers intervened and broke us up. The guys departed hurling filthy abuses and threats at me as they left.
People stood around me giving various types of advice as I sat with my back against the rock, totally dazed and disoriented. Mother was kneeling beside me and holding me up in her arms. She was crying and asking people to help me. Someone got us a jug of water and helped her clean up my face. When I felt a bit better, some people helped us get into our car and we drove back home.
"There was no need for you to get into the fight." Mother scolded me as we drove home. "You could have been killed."
I wanted to say something in reply, but I simply did not feel upto it. So I let her continue to scold me as she held me in her arms. I rested my head against her soft bosom and dozed off.
When we got home, mother called in a doctor who examined me thoroughly. Thankfully he did not find anything broken. He left after prescribing a few balms and painkiller tablets. Mother applied the balms on the wounds and ice on the swellings with her soft hands. She wept whenever I cried out I pain. She fed me the painkillers and held me in her arms till I dropped off to sleep. Thanks to the medications and her ministrations I felt much better by the time Father got home in the evening.
When Father learnt what had happened he was furious. He rebuked Mother for not ringing him up at his office immediately and letting him know what had happened. He rang up a friend of his who was a senior official in the police department and told him what had happened. He demanded immediate action against the guys who had insulted Mother and beaten me up. He was given assurances that appropriate action would be taken soon.
"What you did was very brave. You could have been badly hurt." Father told me sitting on a chair next to my bed. "We are both very proud of you. Thank you very much for standing up for your mother. Don't worry about it any more and get back on your feet. I will handle the matter from here on."
Later that night Father's friend called and said that the police had picked up the ruffians. We were in a more relaxed mood. Father began to lighten up the atmosphere.
"What exactly did those rascals tell your mother?" Father asked me.
I was embarrassed and I tried to avoid answering his question.
However, he was insistent that I give him an answer.
"Come on." He said. " I would like to know why you had to get into a fight with those ruffians."
"They said she was a great piece of goods." I told him.
Father looked at me quizzically.
"Don't you agree with them?" He asked me.
This was getting rather awkward. Even Mother was finding it so.
"Stop it, Father." She said. "He is our son. How can he think of such things about me?"
However, Father refused to back off.
"Come on." He said. "Tell me whether or not you think your mother is a great piece of goods like those rascals had said?"
"Yes, I do." I finally blurted out.
Mother clapped her hand to her mouth and ran out of the room. Father threw back his head and guffawed. Then in a more serious mood he clapped me on my back.
