Me and my brother fought a lot. We still do, but it was very physical back then and plus we watched a lot of movies so that helped us improvise.
Once I remember trying to do a Van dam kick on him, the one where you’re basically in the air. I always wanted to kick in the air like that in slow motion. I failed every time but at least attempted it like a fool. It was admirable.
Given my fighting experience with my dearest sibling, I never really fought outside of school, if anything I was a pretty peaceful kid outside of home and didn’t really have much trouble until the 6th grade. I’d never forget. His name was Sultan.
He was a year under me in school but a year older in reality. He’d failed one year. He was on my bus.
He’d always bully me. I was quiet. It’s hard to remember what he’d do to me exactly but all I remember was how it ended. At this point he’d been bullying me for a few months now on and off and I’ve had it but I was scared. Terrified. He was thinner but taller, annoying but handsomer, and he was oddly confident about himself.
Everyone around me by this time had told me to stand up for myself. You know how scary that is for an 11-12 year old who is seen as this weak link by majority on that bus and I’ll have to do it in front of all of them.
So here’s how it went down, I was seated ( it’s a first come, first serve basis ) and he came and asked me to move. Normally I would have gotten up in lightning speed but that day for some reason I stood my ground and said ” NO ” . Everyone else in the bus looked at me in shock and then at him and started laughing at him. It was hilarious ( the memory only of course, I was probably trembling ) and everyone told him I owned him and what a loser he is. His ego couldn’t take it and so he didn’t know what to do, he yelled ” Get up, get up or else” while everyone laughed and I just sat there ignoring him.
He then started punching my hands and legs to get up, I ignored as I looked out the window, he kept on going and going.
Suddenly, an internal and external power came over me. I got up, jumped him as I held him from his t-shirt and punched him all over the place. I couldn’t even see what I was doing. He was shocked. I was shocked. Everyone was shocked. I was now laying on top of him, punching away and all he could do was scratch because he felt trapped and wanted out. Others then had to remove me from on top of him. That was when, he said ” let’s take this outside ”
Everyone laughed and told him to take a seat or else I’d kick his ass. They saw a side of me they didn’t know. I saw a side of me I didn’t know. I kept my seat. It was a 40 minute ride home and I got off first. I felt good but scared of what would happen. Everyone else provoked him and congratulated me for a job well done. He was fuming and told me he’d show me what he’d do to me, later on. I was scared but ready. I saw what fear could eventually do. The combination of fear and hopelessness was a pretty awesome cocktail.
As my house approached, he had to get down first to make way for me. As I got out, he pushed me or something of the sort as he jumped into the bus and closed the door. I pretended to want to get after him but the bus just drove away.
That was probably one of the my happiest days of childhood. I spoke about it for years to come. He never bullied me again. A year or two later he invited me to his house to jam. He was probably hurt inside, but after seeing his house and life. I think he was just a privileged prick with not enough attention geared towards him.
I learnt to push through when fear took over. One of my first life lessons taught to me by life. In school but by life.