The ANGER club

It was a refurbished industrial shed in the outskirts of the city. It was my first visit there, as a college grad, after a friend had slipped a business card into my hand discreetly at a party. I was part of a new batch of members at the club – known to very few in the city – the insiders just called it the ‘Anger club’. It was run by an ex-cop, who had a reputation of being ruthless with offenders.

He gave his kick-off speech. “Okay Rookies. Listen up. You know why you are here. Fact is, there are nasty people out there who make you angry all the time. The car behind you tailgates and passes by honking loudly. The boys in the neighborhood spray-paint your house and run away. Someone posts nasty comments about you in a chat room. Your date pulls out at the last minute with some stupid excuse. Your best buddy runs away with your prized possession. You know what I mean?”

(Everyone was nodding their heads vigorously. Yup. That was us, all right)

“Right. You probably know that you shouldn’t keep all that anger bottled up. It’s not good for your system. The more you suppress it, the weaker you become, while your enemies get stronger. At the Anger club, you can give vent to your anger. In the first few weeks, you’ll get to use dart boards, punching bags, mock-up weapons, swear words to get the anger out of your system. Imagine yourself taking your anger out on the person who made you suffer.

Later on, you will enter ‘the ring’ where you can have raw punch-up sessions with another person. Nothing lets go of steam like the real thing. The more time you spend here, the more you can kick-a$$ in the world outside. People will know they can’t take you for granted any more. Now, get moving.”

The first day was fun. We started a bit hesitantly, but soon got the hang of it. At the end of 3 hours, guys and girls were hitting the punching bag hard, swearing at mannequins and hitting wall-boards with wooden sledge-hammers till we collapsed exhausted.

I stepped out into the cool evening breeze and hailed the first cab at the taxi stand. There was a genial looking fellow at the wheel, probably in his early-50’s.

“Hi, sonny. First day at the anger club?”

Yeah (I looked at his driver’s license card. His name read Asif) .

You a regular at this taxi stand?

“Yeah, I am. Call me if you need, son. This is my number. I can see you‘re going to be a regular too” (he smiled)

You bet I am. (Man….this feels good)

Over the next 3 months, I was a regular visitor at the club. I became more creative with my workouts. I printed poster-size images of my boss, some office jerks, my back-stabbing friends and stuck them on the punching bag….and I let them have it. Every workout gave me a rush. Gawd. This thing must be legalized. Wow. What a great way to let go!

Every evening, Asif promptly used to pick me up after my session at the Anger club. I discovered that he used to be a member too once, but dropped out later. Strange. Cant imagine why I’d drop out any time soon. He just said in a cryptic way “you’ll find out sometime”

Meanwhile, my life was changing.

Stacey dropped by my desk one day to say “I am sorry I couldn’t attend the party you threw at your house last month. My dad was not keeping well”. I looked her squarely in the eye and said “Do you really think I give a damn about your dad?”. She recoiled in shock and left. Serves her right. High time she stopped messing around with me. Just excuses…excuses. I am not the fall guy anymore.

The other night, my boss rang me. “Hey, our client report is running overdue. Can you put some effort into it?”.I thought to myself ” Yeah, like I care. He’s probably stuffing his moneybags somewhere while I have to slog my backside off on his client report?”. So, I replied curtly, “Oh, that’s sad, Mr. Dawson. Perhaps you need to put some more pay into it”. That worked. He never disturbed me in the evenings after that incident.

By the fourth month in the Anger club, it was time for me to get into the ring. The neon lights were turned on as I stepped into the ring with another rookie, a guy called Gary. We jabbed and poked at each other for a while and then, slowly, as our confidence increased, became more aggressive. Then, suddenly, it happened. He landed a blow that knocked me off my feet. I crashed hard on the floor and found myself lying there breathless.

No one came to help, of course. It was part of the drill. You went into the ring to take it all out on someone. You give some. You take some.

I picked myself off the floor, quietly showered and left. My face was hurting and had started to swell. In the cab that night, Asif looked concerned and asked me if I needed help. I just told him to shut up and mind his own business. He didn’t get flustered though. He just replied “Looks like you haven’t found out yet”

I couldn’t attend office the next day. I was in bed as the pain became worse. My boss and friends called and left some concerned voice messages, but I didn’t bother replying. There was still a sense of anger burning in my gut – but I didn’t know what for. Was it about Gary? No. he was just having a go at me in the ring. Maybe it was just a lot of things added up. All I knew was I was angry.

The next day, I was still in bed. The painkillers were working, but I felt strangely empty. There were no voice messages that day. I thought to myself “Just proves that you can’t call anyone your friends anymore”. Who gives a @#$? It is still my pain. That thought gave me comfort as the feeling of emptiness remained throughout the day.

The next day, I walked in to office, feeling very tired and drained of energy. It was then that I learnt that I had been passed on for promotion. It had gone to the guy who finished the client report that I had declined earlier. His work had secured the client for the firm and my boss decided to promote him instead. Something in me snapped when I heard the news. I barged into my boss’ cabin and gave him a piece of my mind. I ended my verbal assault with “Now I know you are not just old, you are downright stupid too. Rot in hell”. I threw my resignation letter on his face and stormed out.

That night, as I came home after drowning my sorrows in the pub, my younger brother chided me “Hey bro, how’s the face pack?”. That did it. Blinded by rage, I punched him. For the next few minutes, after my onslaught on him began, everything was a blur. All I knew was, he lay limp on the floor, and I was still pummeling his face. Soon, my neighbors and sister ran in and pulled me away. I heard their hushed voices somewhere in the background “oh no…this is looking real bad…might be having a concussion as well…someone call an ambulance”

I was in a daze and feeling very sick in the stomach. I ran to the washroom and threw up. My eyes were watering profusely and I didn’t know if I was crying or was in a state of shock. I sat on the floor, till I started to feel a little normal. I then called Asif’s number, got dressed and left. My family watched me leave, giving way as I walked out. They didn’t want to mess with me.

I had become a monster.

Asif arrived just as the ambulance pulled in to the driveway. He then drove in silence and I leaned back uncomfortably in the rear seat. After a few minutes, I looked up and groaned “I think I need help”.

He just nodded and kept driving. After a while, he pulled over at the boat docks and asked me to step out to take in the breeze. I did. After a few deep breaths, I was starting to feel better.

I don’t know how it came to this. I am not this type of person (I said slowly)

“No one is.” he said and sat down at the pier.

“Like I said, You’ll find out someday”

Find out what??

“where the anger came from”

“There was never any anger when you started off.”

Huh??

“What first brought you to the Anger club was not anger – there was a lot of helplessness, pain, caring, hurt, problems, obstacles, loneliness, confusion…and so on. But there wasn’t any anger.

Instead of attending to them, you threw them as fuel to ignite anger.

Since that day, whenever you felt helpless, in pain, hurt, lonely, confused….all you felt was anger.

…because, the fire knew exactly where its fuel was going to come from. ”

I have become a monster (I told him, still feeling sick, remembering the day’s events.)

“Learn your lesson from it.

When you are helpless, ask for help

When you feel hurt, say you feel hurt

When you see a problem, solve it

When you face an obstacle, overcome it

When you feel confused, seek to understand

When you feel lonely, show love

When you care, show you care

When you feel pain, say you feel pain”

But that will only show people how vulnerable I am.

“So, you’d rather show them what a monster you can be? ”

No. No. no way. Anything but that.

“Then, be aware of what you really feel and attend to it. Don’t let your ego use it as firewood.

The fire, once it rages, will consume everyone it touches.”

“You were incredibly lucky that you pulled out this early. I wasn’t. I used to be a successful owner of a small business before this. I lost my family, friends and a good career, within a year of joining the anger club.

Today is a good day. Make a fresh start. Mend all those bonds you burnt during the past few months.

Over time, you must master how to put out the fire forever.”

I’ll do it Asif… no matter how many years it takes. Thanks for everything. But I feel now, that you must help others too.

“Well…I’m done. It will be your turn one day”

Me? Yeah, right. Some fine role model I’ll be

“Why not? Anyone who has learnt the lesson of the anger club has a duty to help others”

I am sure God’s going to punish me for this (I said with remorse)

“You missed the point, sonny.”

Huh?

“We are not punished for our anger. We are punished by our anger”

(after a long silence, I thanked him and said I was ready to go home.

I had to give a lot of people their lives back.)