I've got a confession to make...

I've been in jail.
You heard me. Yes.. Incarcerated, behind bars, locked up..




I answer 'Yes' to the "Have you ever been convicted of a Criminal Offense? " question in a job application.

I didn't kill anybody, but I almost broke a man's skull in what should've been a harmless road rage incident. Somehow it didn't occur to me to just punch him in the face with my bare fist.


It was a bright and sunny Tuesday morning. Traffic was like mud. Vehicles oozed their way through one of the worst jams ever.

It was one of those minor accidents which happen as a result of incorrect driving practices by both parties. Immediately after the accident occurred, he stopped his car right in the middle of the road to inspect the damage. He remained totally unaffected by the numerous horns blaring away. The vehicles in front of him were not moving as yet, but they'd eventually move and his car would be in the way. The myriad honking sounds continued as he approached me.

Your mind begins to assess the possible outcomes instantly in the event of a confrontation. If there is a percieved threat, the body undergoes several changes to help you deal with it. There's increased breathing, heart rate and blood pressure. This enables oxygen rich blood flow to the limbs which in turn equips you to fight or to flee, depending on the situation at hand. And in my case, choosing to fight didn't require too much thought considering he was shorter than me, probably in his late 20s and looked like he was new to the city.

He wanted to know what I was trying to do back there without a hand signal or an indicator. I told him that the use of an indicator was unnecessary when everyone except him were travelling at 20km/h and his sudden urges to sprint forward every time the vehicle in front moved an inch, caused the accident. He responded with a loud explanation of how wrong I'd been and how doing so might have killed me. All this while, he kept pointing fingers at my face as he reconstructed the events for the motorists who were just tuning in. I wouldn't point fingers at my face if I were him.

Funny, the others on the road didn't have much to say, the honking seemed to die down too as some of them listened attentively to the details and began to take sides. They probably knew that they were not getting anywhere, might as well get to see a fight. Sure enough, they did.

It got louder. There was cursing. I only wish he didn't use that word.


I took a swing at his face with my helmet. I know its not going to work in my favor if I tell you that I thought he was gonna block it. A powerful blow to the head with a blunt object could be fatal in some cases. Epidural hematoma is the result of internal bleeding where blood collects in the area between the outer membrane of your brain and the insides of the skull. This in turn causes the brain to slowly compress and make room for the blood spill. Luckily, this couldn't have happened since the thick viscous fluid seemed to flow down the sides of his left cheek, through a major laceration above his eyebrow.

He fell face down on the road without much of a scream. The audience that watched the events unfold, comprised of two kinds of people: the 'I don't give a fuck if there's a dead man on the road-I can't be late to work' kind and the ones that agreed with the treatment meted out. There may have been a third kind, but you don't want to mess with a stranger after he just bludgeoned a guy who spoke too much and is still holding his weapon of choice.

For the sake of brevity, lets just say the assailant got the victim admitted into a hospital and covered for all of his medical expenses.

You don't get away with attempt to murder so easily but being related to the newly appointed Chief Minister does help. There is a pending criminal charge against me and it will remain in that state for a few years to come. It'll soon be long forgotten.

For now, it would really help if you stopped looking at me like that.










PS: This is my attempt at fiction. And for the record, with respect to confrontation, I can't send back soup.