The Ring

“Indians are a hardy lot.”
- Anonymous

“How can any one possibly survive in these conditions ,let alone live and do well?”\
-Still anonymous

“Its all F***ed up”
-Me


Him

Alone.
Scared.
Uncertain
Greenhorn

Them:

Many.
Excited.
Battle hardened.
Ruthless

It:

Cold.
Merciless.
Indifferent. All in a way that only a battlefield which has seen too many battles can be. It neither offered comfort to him, nor provided support to them. It just was.
It was the THE RING



***********************************************************


He saw the ring from a distance. He could hear their war cries. He could hear the conch signaling the start of the war. He saw them approaching. He had heard of them before. He had heard about their exploits .He had heard how intimidating they were. He knew they were legends. He had been brought up thinking that it was improper and blasphemous not be scared of them. But none of this prepared him for his first sight of them. He would have considered it glorious had it not been him who was going to war with them. They were mighty. They were tough. They were ruthless. They were battle hardened. They were pugnacious. And they were too many.


He cautiously approached the ring. He was looking for an opening. He tried to hit out at them. But they were too quick for him and too many. They expertly parried his thrust and sent him hurtling backwards. He was thrown out of the ring , even before he could enter it.

He got up. He was feeling a little dizzy. It was only now that the full significance of the situation struck him. Only now did he understand the enormity of the task before him. Though he had not expected this to be easy , he was only now realizing the real difficulty of the battle before him. Only now did he realize why so many warriors before him had bitten the dust. But he was made of sterner stuff. He was going to wage this war. He had to. He was one in a whole succession of warriors who had fought this battle and won. He had to continue , he told himself. He got up and willed himself to go.

Meanwhile the ring was changing. Yet in a strange way , it was unchanging. It still had the same indifference, the same coldness and the same cruelty.

And they were still there. They were looked menacing and mighty .They still were baying for his blood.

The conch sounded again.

He stepped forward two paces towards the ring. One of them suddenly leapt towards him. Despite himself , he cringed and ran back to safety .He turned around only after he had reached a safe distance from them and the ring. They were laughing and shouting in delight.

The ring just was changing. And yet unchanging. Cruel, cold and indifferent.

He felt ashamed . He had run away from the battle like a coward .He had not expected himself to be ever capable of cowardice. Yet , here he was cowering in a corner , a safe distance from the ring as They laughed at and mocked him.

The conch sounded again.

He approached again. But this time with none of the tentativeness or the cowardice of previous times. He just moved forward . He was now in their midst. They were hitting out at him. He was being badly pounded from every side. He was experiencing severe pain. Yet he trudged forward determinedly. One of them tried to block him. He pushed himself forcefully against him. His opponent retreated. He was now fighting against everyone who tried to stop him. He was now fast gaining ground. They were trying to stop him. They were hitting him, pushing him, shoving him, pounding him. But he was slowly mastering the art of battle now. He was hitting back .He was entering the ring now. They were helpless .Try as they might they could not shake him off. He was succeeding and slowly he entered the ring.

They tried for the last time now. Now that he was in the ring , they tried to smother him. They tried to overwhelm him. Yet he was unmoved. He stood his ground. They realized this and decided that there was no point in attacking him anymore. He had won and they knew it.

******************************************************
He was in pain.
He could not breathe.
He could not see.
His clothes were torn .
He was smothered. Yet he was happy. He had won. He was triumphant. He had fought them on their on ground and won. He smiled despite everything. He had done it. He was one of them now.

The ring was changing , yet it was unchanging. Still cold, still merciless , still indifferent.




The announcement boomed as the train left the station.
“The local on Platform no 1 is the slow local to Churchgate”