Of aggression, playgrounds and extremes....

The brat, by all standards, is quite a 'fightercock' in his own terms
and that of the playground. In the new complex too, he has quickly
established his reputation as one who never hesitates to fight when
required. And sometimes even when not required.
In the same playground are a pair of twins, both boys whom I have been
observing for the past month and a half that I have been here. They
are approximately the same age as the brat, come down unsupervised and
are the baap of aggressive.
In terms of language used, in terms of fights picked up, in terms of
general behaviour. Two mothers warned me not to allow brat to play
with them, that complaints to their parents had fallen on deaf ears
and these kids got away with everything with nary a gently rebuke.
Yesterday I was strolling around when I saw both of them and the brat
involved in a vicious fist fight where both of them had ganged up
against the brat. I pulled the punching kids apart and tried to
reason. I tried to ask what had led to the fight and found that it was
general namecalling that had set the brat off. The brat was asked to
ignore.
The next I see them in a corner chatting with another little boy. The
boy waits till they turn round the corner and comes to warn me that
the twins are planning to throw stones at the brat. The brat, playing
peacefully with other friends now, is heckled by them and runs to
answer the namecalling with some of his own, when a stone whizzes
through the air and misses his forehead by a fraction. I run to them
and ask them to desist with the stone throwing and tell them in the
nicest way possible that is harmful and it could hurt the brat really
seriously, and I would be compelled to come tell their parents about
their behavior and their language.
They laughed in my face.
Come tell what you want, they told me. Our parents wont say anything.
Other kids gathered around and corroborated. "We go and complain and
their mother shouts back at us."
The manager of the club house passing by stopped and told me that
these eight year olds come down with knives in their pockets and have
been known to threaten other kids with it and all complaints to
parents have been ignored. "Instead, madam, they shout at me to mind
my own business. Don't let your son play with them."
Another mom walking by noticed the fracas and said, "We have all
warned our children to stay away from these two, they are very
dangerous."
Eight year olds. Dangerous. My heart sank. I wondered what they would
be link by the time they entered High School. The brat was duly asked
to steer clear. I gave them as much of a talk as I could about how no
children played with them, and did they like being disliked by all,
but I felt I was talking to a carapace with everything bouncing off
them.
I felt sorry for them. They had a life ahead of them, and were already
being shunned by their peers and considered it a status symbol that
everyone was scared of them. They had each other to play with. They
didn't need friends. But what sort of parents couldn't see that their
children needed to be brought in line?