“Please, sir. I didn’t do anything.”
Avinash’s voice trembled.
Rajan smiled.
He was the biggest bully in their class. Everyone knew it. Everyone had seen it. But nobody dared to speak against him.
Avinash had made the mistake of doing exactly that.
He had reported Rajan and his friends for cheating in the examination.
For that, Rajan had decided Avinash deserved punishment.
Slap.
Avinash’s face turned to the side.
“Another one,” Rajan said.
Slap.
Avinash looked down at the floor.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Avinash slowly raised his eyes.
Rajan slapped him again, harder.
This time, a tear escaped from Avinash’s eye.
Rajan grinned.
“One tear?”
He raised his hand.
“That means ten more.”
Avinash’s heart began pounding.
“Please…”
But Rajan had already picked up Avinash’s project file from the desk.
It had taken him weeks to complete.
Every page was carefully written. Every diagram neatly drawn. It was the project he was most proud of.
Rajan tore the first page.
Rip.
“No!”
Another page.
Rip.
“Stop!”
Another.
“NO!”
The scream echoed through the dark room.
Avinash woke up.
He sat upright in bed, breathing heavily.
For several seconds, he didn’t know where he was.
The room was dark.
Silent.
Then he heard a sleepy voice beside him.
“Avi?”
Shreya had woken up.
“Are you okay?”
Avinash didn’t answer.
He stared ahead.
His eyes were open, but he wasn’t really seeing his bedroom.
For half a minute, he was still there.
Back in school.
Back in that classroom.
Back with Rajan.
Back at fifteen years old.
Shreya switched on the bedside lamp.
“Same dream again?”
Avinash finally looked at her.
He didn’t need to answer.
She already knew.
Shreya moved closer and wrapped both arms around him.
“My baby…”
She held him tightly.
Avinash closed his eyes.
It was two in the morning, but Shreya knew he wouldn’t sleep again.
Without saying anything, she got out of bed and walked toward the kitchen.
“I’ll make you something.”
Avinash remained sitting on the bed.
Twenty-five years.
Twenty-five years had passed.
He was no longer that frightened boy.
He was Dr. Avinash Yadav – one of the most respected cardiac surgeons in the city.
He lived with his family in a luxurious duplex.
He had a loving wife.
Two beautiful children.
A life that his younger self could never have imagined.
And yet, one nightmare could take him back there in seconds.
Why can’t I get over it?
Perhaps because it had never been just one incident.
There had been too many.
Too many days.
Too many faces.
Too many humiliations.
Too many moments when he had wished he could disappear.
And there was one thing he had never told anyone.
Not even Shreya.
She knew something terrible had happened to him.
She had always known.
She had seen it in the way he sometimes became silent when schoolchildren laughed nearby.
She had noticed how uncomfortable he became when someone made jokes about another person’s appearance.
She had seen him wake from nightmares.
She had occasionally found him sitting alone late at night, lost in memories he refused to explain.
But she had never questioned him.
Not because she wasn’t curious.
Because she respected him.
She knew there were wounds that a person might not be ready to uncover.
So she had made a decision long ago.
If Avinash didn’t want to speak about his past, she would never force him to.
Instead, she would make his present so full of love that perhaps, one day, his past wouldn’t hurt quite as much.
She loved him fiercely.
Not as a man who needed to be repaired.
But as the man she had chosen.
Her husband.
Her companion.
Her Avi.
And perhaps that was why he had eventually begun to heal.
But healing had never meant forgetting.
—
His parents had worked incredibly hard to give him a good education.
They had come from very little and sacrificed almost everything so that their son could study in a good school.
Whenever Avinash complained, they tried to help.
But the school management rarely took his complaints seriously.
There was always another reminder about fees.
Another warning about delayed payment.
Another reason why his problems could wait.
Avinash would sometimes stand at the door and say,
“I don’t want to go to school.”
His mother would ask, “Why?”
“They bully me.”
His parents would worry.
But their dreams for their son were bigger than his childhood fears.
And eventually, those dreams won.
Avinash became a doctor.
A very successful one.
But somewhere along the way, the frightened schoolboy never completely disappeared.
His greatest fear was that his children might someday experience what he had experienced.
Before marrying Shreya, he had warned her.
“I don’t know if I ever want children.”
She hadn’t hesitated.
“Then we don’t have to have children.”
Her answer had been simple.
There had been no argument.
No pressure.
Just love.
And somehow, over the years, her love had become stronger than his fear.
They eventually had two children – a daughter first, then a son.
Palak was now in high school.
And that was when the nightmares began returning.
At first, Avinash couldn’t understand why.
Then he realized.
His daughter was now walking through the same corridors that had once terrified him.
He became increasingly interested in her school life.
Too interested, according to Palak.
“Dad, you don’t need to ask me about everything.”
“I’m just asking how school was.”
“It was fine.”
“Anyone bothering you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
Palak began finding his questions irritating.
But there was something else Avinash eventually discovered.
His daughter wasn’t being bullied.
She was the bully.
She made cruel comments about other girls’ bodies.
She mocked their skin.
She participated in ragging younger students.
She laughed when others felt embarrassed.
Avinash was horrified.
He tried talking to her.
She didn’t listen.
Every conversation became an argument.
One evening, the argument went too far.
“This is how the world works, Dad!” Palak shouted.
Avinash stared at her.
“The strong bully the weak.”
She paused.
Then, without realizing how deeply her words would cut, she added,
“You can relate to those poor girls. You yourself are a weak man.”
The room went silent.
Avinash said nothing.
Shreya, who had been listening from the doorway, stepped forward.
Slap.
It was the first time she had ever hit her daughter.
And the shock on Palak’s face was immediate.
“How dare you talk to your father like that?”
Shreya’s voice shook.
Then her anger broke.
Tears filled her eyes.
“You cannot be my daughter.”
Palak stared at her.
“You disrespected your father. Where did I go wrong?”
Her voice cracked.
“Perhaps it’s my mistake. Perhaps I’m a bad mother. Maybe I’m a bad wife too.”
“Shreya”
“No, Avi.”
She wiped her tears.
“Do you even know who your father is?”
Palak looked toward Avinash.
“Your father grew up with very little. His parents struggled to give him the best life they could. They gave him opportunities they themselves never had.”
She pointed toward the house around them.
“And what did you do with those opportunities?”
Her voice broke again.
“You used them to make someone else feel small.”
Palak lowered her eyes.
Shreya turned toward her husband.
“I’m sorry, Avi. I couldn’t give her good values.”
Avinash finally stood.
“Shreya, don’t be crazy.”
She looked at him through her tears.
“You are the best wife a man could ask for,” he said softly. “And perhaps the best mother any child could have.”
He took a breath.
“I think I made a mistake too.”
Everyone looked at him.
“I spent so much time worrying that my children would be bullied that I forgot to teach them something equally important.”
He looked at Palak.
“I never taught you why bullying hurts.”
Palak’s expression changed.
“I hid my school life from you. I thought if I never told you about it, my past couldn’t become your burden.”
He paused.
“But maybe I should have told you.”
Shreya immediately shook her head.
“No, baby. You don’t have to.”
Avinash looked at her.
There was something in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.
Not fear.
Decision.
“Yes.”
He took her hand.
“I do.”
—
Avinash sat down.
His children sat opposite him.
His parents remained nearby.
Shreya held his arm.
He took a deep breath.
“When I was in school, I wasn’t just bullied because I complained about cheating.”
He swallowed.
“That was only one part of it.”
Palak listened silently.
“I looked different.”
He gave a faint, almost embarrassed smile.
“I had what people called girlish features. Softer face. Softer voice. I didn’t look like the boys who thought they were supposed to be tough.”
He looked at his son.
“And apparently, that was enough.”
His voice became quieter.
“They mocked the way I looked.”
They called him names.
They laughed when he walked past.
Sometimes they imitated his mannerisms.
Sometimes they surrounded him just to hear him protest.
And sometimes the humiliation went much further.
“One day,” Avinash said, “some seniors caught me.”
Shreya’s fingers tightened around his arm.
She had never heard this part.
“They decided it would be funny to dress me in women’s clothes.”
Palak’s face changed.
Avinash continued.
“They put makeup on my face.”
His voice almost disappeared.
“Then they made me dance while they laughed.”
Silence.
“I remember looking at everyone laughing.”
He paused.
“I remember thinking that perhaps if I stopped being embarrassed, it would end.”
His eyes became wet.
“But it didn’t.”
He wiped them.
“There were other things too.”
His father lowered his head.
“One time, they made me lick dust from the ground.”
Palak covered her mouth.
Shreya’s eyes filled instantly.
Avinash continued anyway.
“They wanted to prove that they could make me do anything.”
He looked at his children.
“And I let them.”
“You didn’t let them,” Shreya whispered.
Avinash looked at her.
“They forced you.”
He said nothing.
Shreya squeezed his arm.
“You were a child.”
Avinash nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
That single word carried twenty-five years of pain.
He continued.
“There were days when I came home and my parents asked me what happened.”
His mother began crying.
“I said nothing.”
She covered her face.
“I told them some boys had troubled me.”
His father whispered,
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Avinash looked at him.
“Because I was ashamed.”
His father’s face crumpled.
“I thought you would be disappointed in me.”
“We could never have been disappointed in you.”
“I know that now.”
He smiled faintly.
“But I didn’t know it then.”
Nobody spoke.
The room was filled with quiet crying.
Even his son, too young to understand every detail, understood enough to know that his father had been hurt badly.
Shreya had always known.
Not the details.
Never the details.
She had known only that something terrible lived somewhere inside the man she loved.
And now, hearing it, she finally understood why certain things affected him so deeply.
Why he hated seeing children mocked.
Why he became unusually quiet when someone laughed at another person’s appearance.
Why school-related nightmares could still break through his adult life.
She had spent years trying to heal something she had never been allowed to name.
Now she finally knew what it was.
But she didn’t regret loving him without knowing.
If anything, she was grateful she had.
—
When Avinash finally finished, he looked exhausted.
Shreya brought him water.
He drank slowly.
Palak hadn’t moved.
Then she stood.
She walked toward her father.
She sat down on the floor beside him.
And began to cry.
“Dad…”
Avinash looked down.
“I am sorry.”
Her words dissolved into sobs.
“I am so sorry.”
Avinash bent down.
Palak grabbed his legs.
“I called you weak.”
She could barely speak.
“I didn’t know.”
Avinash gently touched her head.
“You didn’t know.”
“But I should have.”
“Yes.”
Palak cried harder.
“I’ll never do it again.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“No body-shaming.”
“I promise.”
“No skin-shaming.”
“I promise.”
“No ragging.”
“I promise.”
“No bullying anyone because you think you’re stronger than them.”
Palak nodded.
“I promise.”
Avinash pulled her into his arms.
Shreya watched them.
Her tears returned.
But these were different tears.
They were painful.
Yet somehow hopeful.
Then Shreya looked at Palak.
“You called your father weak.”
Palak looked up.
“This is his strength.”
She pointed gently toward Avinash.
“He just told his children about the most painful parts of his life.”
She took a breath.
“The things he couldn’t tell his parents.”
Avinash’s parents looked at him.
“The things he didn’t tell me.”
Shreya’s voice broke.
“And I have loved this man for years without ever demanding that he explain his wounds to me.”
She looked at Avinash.
“I knew there was pain inside you, Avi.”
He looked at her.
“I just wanted you to know that you were safe with me.”
Avinash’s eyes filled again.
Shreya smiled through her tears.
“I made it my mission to love you enough that one day you wouldn’t be afraid of being loved.”
Avinash reached for her hand.
“You did.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
She squeezed his fingers.
“We did.”
—
His parents eventually came to him too.
His mother cried as she apologized.
His father struggled to speak.
“We didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“We should have protected you.”
Avinash hugged them.
“You gave me everything you could.”
His father shook his head.
“We pushed you so hard.”
“And because of you, I became a doctor.”
Avinash smiled.
“If it weren’t for your dreams, perhaps I would never have come this far.”
They cried together.
For the first time, Avinash’s parents saw the full story of their son’s childhood.
And for the first time, Avinash didn’t have to carry it alone.
That night, something changed.
Nothing about the past had actually changed.
The people who hurt him could not undo what they had done.
The humiliations could not be erased.
The frightened fifteen-year-old boy could not be given those years back.
But the memories no longer belonged only to him.
His family knew.
They understood.
And they stayed.
Perhaps that was what he had needed all along.
Not someone to tell him to forget.
Not someone to tell him to become stronger.
Just someone to sit beside him while he remembered.
Someone to say:
You were a child.
It wasn’t your fault.
You are safe now.
—
The next morning, sunlight slipped through the curtains.
Avinash slowly opened his eyes.
Shreya was sitting beside him, staring at his face.
He smiled.
“You look so good while sleeping.”
Avinash laughed softly.
“Why do I feel like you hardly slept?”
She smiled.
“It was worth it.”
“What was?”
“Watching you sleep peacefully the entire night.”
Avinash became quiet.
He looked toward the window.
“I was afraid I’d have the nightmares again.”
Shreya reached out and held his hand.
“So what, Avi?”
He looked at her.
“I’ll be here.”
She squeezed his fingers.
“Where I’ve always been.”
Avinash smiled.
For twenty-five years, he had been trying to escape the boy he once was.
Perhaps healing didn’t mean forgetting him.
Perhaps healing meant finally turning around…
and telling that frightened boy:
You survived.
It wasn’t your fault.
For the first time in decades, Avinash believed it.
The Nightmare
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