Taekwondo Tales : 3 Iraqi boys vs the Gang of Girls
We were unapologetic and held on to the principle of fairness that went something like “they started it”
I was twelve when we decided it was a good idea to pick fights with boys from foreign lands.
It was a Taekwondo class. The ambassador or some fancy delegate from the consulate of Iraq had moved into the 3rd floor apartment of Duggal Uncles home. There were three boys.I’m pretty sure one of them was called Mustafa. They joined Taekwando in the park and suddenly the dynamics of the class changed. Sparring which was supposed to be a fun light activity of taking on opponents became one filled with real animosity.
I was hurling abuses I didn’t know the meaning of. My Taekwondo teacher would send me to run rounds of the park as punishment for bad behaviour. A blind eye was turned to everything these three Iraqi boys were doing. Because you know ‘boys will be boys’.
One day they pushed Appu, the youngest of us into the bushes as we were doing our drills. Aastha, our ring leader ( & Appu’s older sister) had had enough. We would no longer put up with tyranny of this trio. Revenge had to be taken. The Indian boys in our class were wimps. So, all the girls in the colony were rounded up and enlisted to join this cause.
The following Thursday we cornered the youngest of the three on his bicycle and asked him what their problem was. He was so scared and, in the moment, none of us wanted to hit him so we let him escape the circle. We beat up the bicycle he left behind instead.
A grandmother of one of the girls who had been forced to move to Delhi from Lahore during partition, told us all Muslims were bad and taught us a derogatory chant. The narrative suited our cause. Soon we started the second prong of our attack: we chanted ” Mulle Mullah re” ( Just a derogatory way to address Muslims) on the streets every time these boys would appear. The tension was palpable.
My mother along with Aastha’s was horrified when they found out what we had been upto. We were unapologetic and held on to the principle of fairness that went something like “they started it”. My mother decided to firmly quote Gandhi to us (me and Aastha) “ An eye for an eye will only make the world go blind. We did not raise either of you to behave like this”
Our mothers decided they needed to make amends. Despite our vehement protests and tantrums, they climbed up to Duggal Uncles third floor. Hours later they returned with boxes of Iraqi delicacies and smiles on their faces. We were so angry with our mothers for extending friendship. Our mothers promised us that there would be a time when we would understand why this was necessary.
Taekwondo class was over for me and Aastha. We had graduated out with our black belts and a warning from our teacher to not start beating up boys just because we could.
Mustafa & Family were not there for the summer break when we got our black belts. Puberty had hit all of us. When they returned, all three brothers had shot up and had transformed from ducklings to swans.
Our enemies had become rather good looking or we had developed hormones. A fact that did not escape any of us. But lines had been drawn -so there was nothing to be done except stare at them dreamily as they walked by instead of chanting derogatory slurs.
3 years later, the Iraq War broke out. Mustafa and family no longer lived in Duggal Uncles house. We had no idea where they were. Over 200,000 civilians were killed and a pernicious war against Muslims has been in play ever since.
Even today, I can’t help but wonder whether the ridiculously good looking Mustafa and his two brothers made it to their 30s to relay these shameful stories of how mean they were to the girls in their block or how unwittingly xenophobic and anti-Islamic their New Delhi neighbours were?
Brought back so many memories.Smriti. very vivid narration
Liked it. Thank God for mothers like yours.