by Mainak Dhar
Arnab asked Sharma to dial the Minister again. When Singh picked up the phone, Arnab made his intentions clear.
'Sir, your offer is tempting, but I cannot possibly accept it. As for Upadhyay, I'll take my chances.'
Balwant Singh's friendly demeanour disappeared in an instant. It was replaced by a low, menacing growl.
'You fool! Upadhyay is the least of your worries. You are in the deep end of the ocean, not playing in a children's pool anymore, and I'm the fucking shark that rules it. For all your superpowers, I can rip you to shreds if I want.'
Arnab remained silent, so Singh continued.
'Have it your way, but I will teach you a few lessons in power.'
With those final ominous words, Singh hung up.
***
The next evening when Arnab got home, he was about to change and head over to Khan's place. By now, Khan had become much more than a boxing instructor. He was the only person who was privy to Arnab's secret, and that had created a strong bond between the two men. The previous night, Arnab had called Khan to tell him what had happened during his meeting with Sharma and Khan had told him that while he had done the right thing, in today's day and age, doing what was right usually came with a high price. As Arnab reached Khan's house, he found the old man in a very agitated state, muttering curses under his breath and pacing up and down the room.
'Khan chacha, what's up? You look really worried.'
Khan paused and looked at Arnab.
'Those bastards set you up!'
When Arnab asked what he meant, Khan turned on the TV and threw the remote down on the floor in disgust. A young female anchor was in the studio and Arnab saw the headlines scrolling across the screen.
'Superhero for sale! Sting operation exposes so-called Superhero.'
Arnab looked on in dread as the screen then flashed a grainy video that showed his previous night's meeting. Sharma was nowhere to be seen, perhaps having been digitally erased from the footage, but the video showed the man opening the suitcase to Arnab, and then the camera zoomed in to show the currency notes in the suitcase.
The audio had also been doctored and was devastating. In the video, as had happened the previous night, the man with the suitcase said,
'We will also handsomely reward you for your services. Here is a token of our appreciation for your help in the elections.'
But then someone had inserted a voice over which showed Arnab responding with a 'thank you'. With the hood it was impossible to see his face anyways, so to any viewer it looked like Arnab was accepting the money. The anchor returned on screen,
'Here at Tamasha.com, we always believe in exposing the real face of the scams in our society. And tonight we have got hold of video footage which shows Laxman Yadav, a known fixer for the Opposition, approaching the so called superhero of Delhi, and buying his services to help fix the upcoming elections. Is this the new face of Indian democracy?'
Khan turned the TV off, while Arnab sat in front of it, speechless. He had interpreted Singh's threat to imply that he would probably have more run-ins with Upadhyay's men or other hired goons, and while certainly something to watch out for, he had been confident that he could handle any such threat. Never had he imagined that the Minister's vengeance could take such a form.
He looked up hopefully at Khan, like a drowning man grasping at straws.
'Khan chacha, there's always some nonsense or the other on TV. Maybe people will just ignore it.'
Khan however had little by way of reassurance to offer.
'Arnab, this could be bad. A man can survive physical attacks and broken bones, but if you shatter his reputation, it can be a much more dangerous thing. I pray it turns out to be as you hope.'
Arnab woke up the next morning, a Saturday, to find that his worst fears had been realized. Almost everything that could have gone wrong had gone belly up, and in spectacular fashion. Tamasha.com had kept running the hidden camera footage all night, and most other channels had picked it up. Laxman Yadav had also accumulated significant airtime, telling anyone who would listen that he had offered ten million Rupees to the city's famous superhero to enrol his services in capturing polling booths. Either he was a seasoned actor or just very used to telling white lies, since he seemed utterly convincing, and Arnab wondered if the money in the suitcase had in fact gone to Yadav to get him to malign his own party. The leaders of the opposition party cried themselves hoarse that they were not behind it, but in the battle between laboured denials by old men and a sensational piece of video, the video seemed to win hands down.
As Arnab kept tracking the news through that day, things kept getting worse. Balwant Singh came on TV and while he took the moral high ground and refused to condemn Arnab, he did say that it was unfortunate that in this day and age of corrupt politics that the Opposition practised, nobody was as clean as they seemed. Arnab would have brushed off the accusations and insinuations if they had come from Balwant Singh and hysterical TV presenters alone, but by evening the backlash he faced took a new turn. Forums and message boards on fan websites and communities dedicated to the 'Guardian Angel' started becoming inundated with messages filled with a sense of betrayal and anger. Arnab read through some of them,
'I thought he was at least a clean role model but looks like he's no better than the other scum'.
'I am so hurt. I believed in him and now he's turned out to be no more than a gun for hire.'
And on it went. To have the same people who blindly believed in him and deified him turn against him so quickly came as a shock to him. Even so, he kept telling himself that it was one thing to put comments on a website and quite another to actually turn your back on someone who had done nothing but help you and asked for nothing in return. So that night, against Khan's advice, Arnab set out again on his nightly mission.
That night his area of patrol was in Malviya Nagar, where robbers had been striking almost every night, breaking into houses and robbing the occupants at gunpoint. Arnab spent a good two hours patrolling the area, and then at about midnight, he saw three men walking in one of the alleys. There was no indication that they were the robbers, but he decided to follow them to be sure. He maintained a safe distance, following them as they walked along the narrow alleys. After a few minutes, they came to a stop near a house and sat down on the stairs in front of it, one of them lighting a cigarette and passing it around. Arnab was now quite suspicious, and assuming that they were planning a robbery, stepped out in front of them. He had no wish to provoke a confrontation, but assumed that if they were robbers, the mere sight of him would send them packing. To his surprise, one of them, a young man barely out of his teens, looked up calmly at him and asked him what he was doing there.
'I should be asking you what you're doing out so late sitting in front of this house.'
The man didn't flinch as he replied.
'Ah, so our superhero has found time from rigging elections to fight crime.'
The other two men laughed, and Arnab was tempted to teach the man some manners but held himself back. The man showed no such signs of restraint as he continued.
'Look, asshole, this is my house and I've just come home from a party. Do you want to ring the bell and ask my parents?'
Arnab didn't know if the man was bluffing or not, but he got an answer when the door opened and an older man stepped out.
'Rajiv, what's going on?'
'Nothing dad, our superhero here thought we're robbers.'
The father told him to be quiet and turned to Arnab.
'Don't mind my son. The young nowadays speak before they think. Thank you for what you're doing, but there are no robbers here, just a young man who's going to get into trouble for being so late.'
He smiled as he led his son in, and the two other men walked off, muttering among themselves. Arnab thought he heard one of them say, 'Superhero, my ass.'
It was a small incident, but actually hearing and seeing for himself how people's attitudes towards him were changing so fast ca
me as a real shock to him. The next night only made matters worse when an old woman he had rescued from a mugger shook his hands off, looking at him and saying in a sad voice,
'Son, I thank you for saving me, but you've dashed a lot of hopes with what you have done. Please leave the company of these politicians and their dirty business.'
Arnab tried to say something in his defence, but realized it was futile. Things got only worse when the next day, a prominent businessman issued a statement that he believed the so called Guardian Angel was sabotaging his business interests by attacking his trucks at night, presumably because he had been paid to do so by business rivals. There was no proof offered, and even a cursory background check would have shown that the businessman was a key contributor to Balwant Singh's election campaign, but as often happens, the facts got lost in the hysteria and this provided even more fodder to news channels revelling in Arnab's fall from grace. The new 'Superhero Scandal' became the talk of the town, and in the rush to crucify the one who had till recently been the darling of the masses, everyone conveniently forgot all the things that he had done.
Arnab by now had descended into a full-fledged depression, and realized that no matter how strong he was; he knew little about such machinations and how to respond to them. Balwant Singh had truly extracted a terrible revenge, and Arnab felt alone and helpless. Khan was there to lend a sympathetic ear, but the old man could do little to help. The next night was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Arnab had intervened in an attempted robbery just after sunset, and while the robbers had melted away when they saw him, Arnab found himself confronted by an angry mob consisting of those whom he had thought he was rescuing. They shouted abuses at him, and one of them threw a pair of shoes at him. Arnab was taken aback, and not knowing how to react, ran home, the jeers and insults of the crowd ringing in his ears.
He spent an agonizing night thinking about his situation. He had finally found something he could remotely think of as a mission for his life-something that gave him a sense of purpose and made him feel like he was more than just another anonymous middle-class boy running in the rat race to earn a livelihood. That seemed like a distant dream now-all of it having been destroyed in one fell swoop.
How naïve had he been! Upadhyay and Balwant Singh had been proven right after all. One man, no matter how strong or no matter what superpowers he was endowed with, could do little to change the rot and corruption in the system they had created and ruled over. Arnab felt that perhaps he had just let his powers go to his head, and led himself to believe that he could challenge the likes of Balwant Singh and get away with it. Now he knew better. Then Arnab thought about how fickle public opinion was. Mindless drones! One day they were worshipping him, and the next they were throwing shoes at him! No wonder people like Balwant Singh could mess with their minds so easily. Perhaps it was true that people got the system they deserved-and why should he destroy his life trying to help those who couldn't even see who was really on their side?
Arnab's phone buzzed. It was a message from Aggarwal.
'Like I said, every man has his price. I would have paid better, and you wouldn't have got so much negative press. Too bad you didn't take my offer.'
Arnab flung his phone into a corner. He lay down on his bed again and closed his eyes, but there was little sleep to be had that night.
***
Arnab reached work the next morning and saw Jayantada tut-tutting to himself as he read the newspaper. He looked up at Arnab as he entered the library.
'Seen this superhero business? What a shame.'
By now Arnab had seen and heard enough to not react to one more dig at him, and he looked at Jayantada and said,
'Jayantada, this is no time or place for heroes.'
'You can say that again. By the way, Arnab, what happened to the exams you were planning to write?'
Arnab had been mentally kicking himself all the way to work that morning. He had been so carried away in his new life that he had totally neglected what had once been of utmost importance to him. The bank exams were in just a week's time and he was woefully unprepared. But then he had resolved that he was going to get his life back on track. He had forgotten who he was and what he had to do, so lost had he been in his delusions of grandeur. He was no superhero, and he would keep his accursed abilities a secret. He would get back to being just good old Arnab Bannerjee. He replied to Jayantada,
'One of the exams is next week. Jayantada, do you mind if I just stay a bit late in the library and study? I'll lock on the way out.'
'No problems. Best of luck.'
For the next few days, there were no nocturnal missions, no training sessions at Khan's place and no more run-ins with goons, in uniform or otherwise. Arnab hit the books with a vengeance, studying for more than a dozen hours a day. He would come into work early, and stay back late till six or seven in the evening, studying in the deserted library. Once back home, he would again immerse himself in his books. It was difficult to totally forget all he had been through, and he did have some lasting regrets-like the way things had turned out with Mishti, but Arnab decided that the only way to deal with what had happened was to forget the events of the last few months as if they had been no more than a dream, and to get on with his life.
On the day of the exam, Arnab asked Jayantada for a day off, and when he entered the examination hall, all his preparations of the last few days were distilled in a frenzy of writing as he began tackling the questions. He barely looked up to see what was happening around him or to even check the time. When he did finally look up, he had finished the paper, and realized that he had completed with a few minutes to spare. One final check, and Arnab handed in his paper and walked out, feeling that he had acquitted himself as well as he could have hoped to have done.
That evening, as he was sitting at home watching TV, he heard a knock on the door. It was Chintu.
'Uncle, mummy says that the superhero is not for real. Please come and show her. Please show her how strong you are and that you're the superhero.'
It suddenly struck Arnab that amidst all that had happened; he had totally forgotten that Chintu was the other person who had an inkling of his powers. Then he reminded himself that he was just being paranoid. Nobody would take a little child's talk about a superhero in the building seriously, especially when that superhero was Arnab Bannerjee.
'Chintu, there is no superhero. It was all a story. Now go on home, your mummy will be looking for you.'
But the little boy would not give up easily. He looked at Arnab with innocent, hurt eyes, pleading with him.
'But I know you're for real. I know. Please tell them that you're not just a story.'
'Chintu, there is no goddamn superhero. Now go home!'
Sobbing, Chintu ran away, and Arnab cursed himself for having lost his temper with a little child. Just then, Khan entered his room.
'Arnab, shouting at a child won't make you feel better.'
Arnab looked at Khan and knew what was coming so he pre-empted it.
'Khan chacha, I cannot do it any more. It is just not worth it. I just want to get back to my normal life.'
Khan sat down on a chair opposite Arnab.
'Arnab, why do you assume you can conclude whether it's worth it or not? Ask the hundreds, if not thousands of people whose lives and property you've saved. The people whom you've given some hope that there is someone who will stand up for them.'
Arnab was going to have none of it.
'Yes, the same people who are today out to crucify me! They deserve what they're getting.'
'Arnab, you don't really mean that.'
'No Khan chacha, I do. I mean every word of it. I have had enough. Enough of being a victim of circumstances, enough of being at the mercy of people like Balwant Singh. Finally, I'm going to lead my life the way I want.'
Khan decided to try one last time.
'Arnab, but don't you see? You were making a big difference. You had such a sense of purpose. What you we
re doing meant so much to so many people. Surely, it must be worth fighting for.'
Arnab was in a foul mood and instantly regretted the next words out of his mouth.
'Khan chacha, I can't mess up my life because it gives you a sense of purpose.'
A sad expression clouded over the old man's face, and he left without saying another word. Arnab slammed his fist into the wall, angry with himself for having hurt the man who had saved his life. But there was no way he was going to go back on his decision. As he turned on the TV, he noted with exasperation that the anchor was talking about him.
'As we've been reporting, the so-called superhero has disappeared. Perhaps he has gone into hiding after his scandals were exposed on this channel. Perhaps it is time we all learnt that we are indeed in the age of vice and evil and not an age where there are any genuine heroes to be found.'
NINE
Arnab truly felt that the best decision he had ever made was to get back to what had been his normal life. While he waited for the entrance exam results to come in, he dove into his work with an unprecedented frenzy. Even Jayantada, forsaking his usual sarcastic comments, took him aside one day.
'Arnab, I wanted to tell you something.'
'Sure, Jayantada.'
The old man shuffled a bit and looked down at his feet. Clearly complimenting someone did not come easily to him.
'Arnab, you have been doing your work so well that I feel like I don't even need to be here. Well done.'
Arnab just said thanks, but he was thrilled within, and contrasted how much easier it seemed to get appreciation for doing his job compared to the mess he had got into when he had begun to harbour delusions of accomplishing something more with his life. He met Jayantada just before leaving work to share something he had begun working on in his spare time-an idea to totally overhaul and computerize the library's records and catalogue. Jayantada looked it over with interest, while Arnab waited anxiously for his reaction. His biggest fear had been that Jayantada would resist changing how things had been done for years.
