I must have been twelve or thirteen years old and was at the park with my friends. I don’t quite recall what triggered the fight, but the next thing I knew, I was on the ground over a boy named Pradeep. I had managed to pin him down, hoping to settle the matter conclusively.

In no time, he gave in but somehow managed to wriggle free and get up. Not giving in, I grabbed his shirt — and to my surprise, the pocket came off in my hand. I knew I was in trouble, so I cut short my park visit and headed home.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. Pradeep arrived with his mother. My mother answered the door and patiently heard what they had to say. They left soon — though not before his mother made a few pointed remarks about my upbringing!

I braced myself for the fallout.

Oddly, instead of scolding me, my mother came to my room and asked for my version of what had happened — and whether I had learned anything from it. This was something I would expect from my father, certainly not her!

My instinctive response was that I shouldn’t have let Pradeep escape and that I was going to “settle the matter” another day.

To this day, I recall what she said next. She asked whether Pradeep had an older sibling. Surprised, I confirmed that he did — an older brother who often came to the park. Then she asked, “What’s stopping Pradeep from getting his elder brother to beat you up next time and ‘settle the matter’?” Of course, I hadn’t thought of that.

She explained that it’s important to choose your battles wisely and sometimes just let things go. Needless confrontation, she said, is an act of stupidity, not courage.