Physics class in progress. The teacher making valiant attempts to teach us. I'm counting the seconds till the period finishes. My eyelids feel as heavy as lead and start to droop. The teacher scans the room like an FBI agent who's been tipped of about a terrorist. She tiptoes to my desk and starts shaking me.

            My eyes open. I'm on a bed and the teacher greatly resembles my mother. How odd! I never noticed it earlier. Then it hits me like a charging juggernaut; I'm home, home at last. RIMC has finished with me. I'm on my way to the NDA. It's time for breakfast.

            I got up to start off on one more day. A day closer to again going into captivity, to my goal, my dream, my ambition, my life, NDA.

            After breakfast my mother leaves. She tells me to see that the mason does the finishing of our new house properly. To tile the bathroom as well as the kitchen. Tells me that I should have had my bath and switched on the pressure cooker before she arrives. She gives me a peck and leaves.

            I started lazing in the house. Switched on the TV and the computer simultaneously. Checked up if anything good was on. 'The Amazing Race' on AXN, a must see, I thought. Turned off the computer to devote attention to the TV. Rapt in the show, the doorbell rang!

            The mason arrives. I show the various jobs in store for him. Tells me to cover the kitchen appliances. Shifting the water, it spills. He uses the cloth  he wanted for wiping his hands, to mop up the spillage. I turn my back to him & hell breaks loose.

            He put the cloth on my face and told me to open the cupboard. His slurred speech and shock resulted in incomprehension. I tried to convince him that I was not talking rudely, and tried polite talk. He repeated his order to open the cupboard. Light dawned on me. Unwillingly I had become a victim of a robbery.

            My head rushes. I think about my RIMC stay, my childhood karate, joining NDA and my reaction to the interviewers at the SSB, how I'd ward off robbers if they attack. I decide to fight back.

            I removed the cloth, slowly but surely. Then, used a grip with my right arm over his neck, a favourite tactic of my childhood brawls. The man realized that I'd give a fight and tried to choke me. Felt suffocated for a while but fought him off. That's when he took out his knife!!!

            The knife all but glints in front of me (rust prevents it from doing so). Realize that I must not lose the initiative, shoot my hand and grip the knife. Knife cuts into my hand but pain is long forgotten, adrenaline has taken over. The fight ensues and the blade breaks. I have the blade in my hand and he, the handle.

            Then we fought our way to the bedroom. The TV was on. I switched it off and he turned it on, probably to drown out the noise of our scuffle. We somehow got across the bed into a corner. A crushed newspaper with blood marks suggested that the route traversed was across the bed. Suddenly I saw myself on the bed and him on the floor!

            My foot comes out and presses his stomach. He is pinned for the moment. The voice emanates from my mouth saying, 'I'll kill you’, 'don’t move’, etc. etc. I realize that I should probably be shouting for help. Seems funny that I have the initiative & I ask for help but I realize that it's welcome. The shouts seem unreal, dramatic and seem to come from some where else. They're not heard, or maybe ignored, but I've lost and he's gained confidence. I peer on the bed and see the light reflect off the tiny electronic device, the mobile.

            Picked it up with one hand. Was about to dial 911 but stopped. Tried calling up my cousins in Colaba. Calling with one hand wasn't easy. The @#$%^& pulled out the charging cord. I gave up and switched off the mobile. Decided to lock him in the bathroom. He decided to make like a dog and bit my feet!!!

            He's no longer pinned down. I try to push him to the bathroom but he's too strong for that. Decide to run out and lock the door, not realizing that he can steal stuff and jump off our first floor window. Fortunately, he catches up. The scuffle continues for a while but he realizes that he can't make headway. Falls on my feet!

            He then started asking for mercy. Explained how he was also educated and had even learnt computers (unnatural though it sounds). Told that he was drunk and his family poor. Appealed to my heart. Told that he got tempted and didn't mean to hurt me. I thought for a moment and asked about the knife. Replied that I caught it and hurt myself, how he had no intentions of using it. Not convinced but eager to get him out of my house, I gave my word that I wouldn't tell anyone and told him to come back and work.

            He leaves! I try my best to repair the damage, throw the vest and T-shirt, both torn, in my trunk, and go for my bath. In the shower, I realize that I'll be dead scared if he returns, maybe with something to silence me with. Anyway, I clear the blood marks, put the newspaper in the shelf and throw the knife. Check the damage. Bleeding hands, toes bitten, red fingernail marks on the neck, nick on my nose. The doorbell rings again.

            A friendly face peered at me through the peephole. My mother arrived. She was happy to see me ready and changed. Notices all the marks but I attribute them to clearing up a non-existent beard. Told her that my friends told me it grows faster that way.

            We lunch and she goes to her bed. She sees it’s shifted and there is a bunch of hair and a cloth there. Tell her that I cut my hair and the rest was because of the guy who was working. She asks for the newspaper and when she opens it, sees blood. That’s how she notices my cut hands. My immaturity leads me to protect her from these happenings specially because there is a 'Pooja’ in the house after three days. My mother is angry that I'd let the guy work unsupervised in her bedroom and I bear the brunt.

            I left for Colaba, the next day, after hinting at her to be careful. The full time there I was worried about her. While returning after dropping off my sister-in-law at the railway station, I spilled my guts to my cousin. He advised me to tell my father but not to tell my mother all, or at least to break it gently. When I returned from Colaba, I saw a horde of people working in the house. I checked to see if the @#$%^& returned and heaved a sigh of relief at not being able to locate him.

            The day passes and the next day the 'Pooja’ starts. Keep a calm exterior and a mind which wonders when to tell and whom. The next day, I find my father and me alone. I go to him and tell him that this is hot stuff and very important. I tell him the story when we're alone and the next day, he hears it fully and tells my mother.

            My bravery was praised and foolishness highlighted. I was happy to see my mother not in a state of shock but just surprised. We then complained to the builder. The contractor came and apologized but the @#$%^& had fled the coop.

Time passes. The fight is all but forgotten. The wounds on my body are healed but what is lost is trust. A faith in humanity, no longer exists. All men come under the microscope as innocence dies.

I'll always remember the day a child died and a man was born.