Heroes R Us (18 page)

When Arnab got up in the morning and looked at himself in the mirror, he saw no hero, just a scared young man who was being forced into a course of action that he would rather have avoided. He closed his eyes, and was surprised to find them filling with tears. As he stilled his mind, he thought back to the incident on the bus where it had all begun. He didn't really have a choice to make now. He had made his choice that day so many months ago- the choice to not look away any more. The choice to finally worry about something other than his self-preservation and self-interest. He had made that choice, and the events it had unleashed had set in motion a course of action that perhaps he had no choice but to now follow and see through to its logical conclusion. When he opened his eyes and looked up at his reflection, tears rolled down his cheeks, but his eyes shone with a newfound resolve. He didn't care any more whether it was his destiny or indeed a curse. It was something he had to do. Once he was done, he would think about getting on with the bank job and the life he had intended to pursue.

That morning, Jayantada kept coming over to check on the progress of the computerization project, but Arnab had little progress to report for the day. He lied, blaming it on the slow computer, which seemed to satisfy Jayantada, who walked away grumbling about how technology never worked and how in his day he had managed a library of ten thousand titles with a handwritten catalogue. Arnab felt a bit guilty about the lie, but he was formulating a plan in his mind, trying to see how he could take the next step in trying to stop the attack Arif had mentioned.

By evening, he realized that there was no other way out and he called Pravin Aggarwal, using the SIM card that he had reserved for his nocturnal operations. Aggarwal picked up on the third ring, and to Arnab's surprise, seemed to have either remembered him or saved his number.

'Well, it's our own superhero, isn't it? So tell me, how can I help?'

Arnab had been brought up in a culture where asking for something for oneself was not considered good form, so he stammered out, 'Sir, I wanted to know if you....you still wanted to strike a deal?'

Aggarwal's deep laughter bellowed over the line.

'I told you my friend that everyone has a price. I'm glad you came to the same conclusion, but I'm afraid it may be too late.'

'What do you mean?'

'What I mean, my friend is that your value lay in your spotless reputation. Now that you're perceived by the common man as yet another person out to make a quick buck, your image has, how shall I put it, been on a bit of a decline. If you want to deal with me, you need to get your reputation cleaned up.'

Aggarwal's response was not one that surprised Arnab, but now he realized he had no choice other than to make a deal with the very people who had set out to destroy him and his name. It was infuriating, but he realized even his powers had their limits. He could run faster and hit harder than any man alive, and he could see in the dark, but he was powerless before the machinations of Balwant Singh and his ilk. He debated with himself for a while, but came to the conclusion that there really was no other way out. Figuring that he did not have the time to waste on going through P.C Sharma and the Minister's other minions, he sent an SMS to Sharma asking for an urgent meeting with Balwant Singh himself, saying that he had something that could be of use to the Minister in the coming elections. He had read in the papers about how Balwant's party was suffering reverse after reverse in the build-up to the elections that were just a few days away, and gambled that this was an offer that Balwant would find too tempting to pass on.

When he set out at the appointed time later that night, he realized that he was taking a big risk. There was a fair chance that Balwant would still be angry with him, and could bring Upadhyay and his men to ambush him and finish what they had failed to accomplish the last time he had encountered them. Not willing to trust Balwant, he reached the meeting point, near the small pond in front of the Old Fort, about thirty minutes early, not as the superhero who wanted to strike a deal with Balwant, but as Arnab Bannerjee, seemingly out for a late night walk, carrying a novel. He sat down on a bench, pretending to read under the streetlights, scanning the area for any sign of activity. After a few minutes, he saw Balwant and Sharma appear, but there was no sign of any other person. He waited a few more minutes to make sure, and then satisfied that Balwant had laid no ambush, walked behind some bushes, emerging a split second later wearing his hooded sweatshirt and gloves. He approached the two men from behind, and when he called out to them, both of them turned to face him.

Sharma looked nervous, sweating profusely, but Balwant looked at him with no hint of surprise or fear. Balwant may have lacked his strength or speed, but Arnab found that his ruthless, almost reptilian eyes sent a shiver of fear through him. Before he could make his offer known, Balwant spoke up.

'So you want to help me in the elections after all? Seems like you've learnt your lesson, but tell me this one thing- what do you want?'

Sharma chipped in, 'Sir, shall I get the cash?'

Balwant shouted at him to shut up.

'Sharma, if he wanted money, he would have taken it the first time. But my friend, you want something else from me, isn't it? Name your price.'

Arnab was getting used to the fact that in Balwant Singh's world, the currency of exchange was mutual favours in cash or kind. There seemed to be little by way of a concept of right or wrong, but if he wanted to achieve his goal, he would have to learn to deal with such people.

'I want you to clear my name. Make it clear to everyone that I had no role in the scandal, and make it clear that the video was fake.'

Balwant chuckled.

'I could do that, but you need to do something for me. Sharma will give you a list of polling booths and the details. You need to make sure that on election eve, my people own those booths, and that the Opposition gets no chance to capture them.'

Arnab knew what Balwant would demand, and every bone in his body rebelled against agreeing to it, but he had no choice. He agreed but said that he couldn't wait till the elections- he needed his name cleared within a day.

'Look, my friend, in my business, there is no such thing as trust. If I do that, you need to demonstrate your goodwill by doing a small favour for me tomorrow itself.'

***

The mission Balwant had given Arnab was one of petty personal vendetta, and Arnab suspected that he had done so not just to ensure he could trust him, but also to demonstrate that Arnab now had to do his bidding if he wanted Balwant Singh to clear his name. The mission was to intercept a consignment of illicit drugs that one of Balwant's political rivals was bringing in from Nepal. Balwant never explained why he was not asking the police to do this, but Arnab suspected that Balwant may well have been involved in the smuggling, and this was a case of a business partnership gone sour. As Arnab intercepted the truck on the highway and beat the driver and three guards to a pulp, he felt deeply ashamed at having been reduced to nothing more than Balwant's hired muscle, but he rationalized that the shame was worth being able to save the lives of thousands of innocent people. As agreed, he called Sharma, who said he would be at the scene in a few minutes. When Arnab saw Sharma's car approach, he raced away from the scene, hoping Balwant would keep his word.

He did not have to wait very long. That very evening, he received a call from Sharma asking him to turn on his TV. When he did so, he saw Balwant Singh addressing a press conference. He had missed the first few statements, but what he heard was clear enough.

'So, you see the video incriminating our own superhero was a vicious ploy by the Opposition, who had begun to realize that his efforts at fighting crime were coming in the way of their plan to destabilize the law and order situation before the elections. When we found this out, we decided to expose this.'

As he signalled to someone off the stage, a man came onto the screen. Arnab recognized him as the man with the suitcase full of money who had met him with Sharma. The man spoke haltingly, and without looking at the camera.

'I was paid by leading members of the Opposition to do this. I regret what I have done, but the Guardian Angel is absolutely innocent. He refused all offers of money but we doctored the video to malign him.'

Arnab had no idea if Balwant had threatened the man or paid him for his collusion, but he seemed to be convincing enough. Within minutes, the media was all over it, and forums and communities all over the Internet were flooded with apologetic messages, seeking forgiveness from the nation's newly rediscovered favourite superhero, and beseeching him to return. Arnab was sickened by the cynicism and artificiality of it all, but he kept reminding himself that it was for a good cause.

He didn't have to call Aggarwal; it was the tycoon who called him the very next morning.

'You know, you have turned around your reputation far faster than I could have expected. I am impressed.'

'So Mr. Aggarwal, do you think you're ready to make a deal?'

Aggarwal seemed to chuckle at how Arnab got straight to the point.

'You seem to have become something of a businessman yourself. Oh well, that suits me just fine. It's good to do business with someone who doesn't waste time. What do you want?'

Arnab thought back to Arif's demand and responded with only a short pause.

'Ten million Rupees in cash. And I need the money within the next two days.'

Aggarwal sighed as if he had expected Arnab to demand more.

'The amount is no issue, but giving you the money before you've done anything for me doesn't sound like good business.'

Arnab was beginning to panic, wondering if his plan was not going to work after all, when Aggarwal made a counter proposal.

'I could get you the money if you started working for me. Full-scale endorsements and advertising will follow, but that takes time. But perhaps you could start on some, err, tactical promotions earlier.'

'What did you have in mind?'

After Aggarwal had finished briefing him, Arnab spent several minutes sitting by himself, thinking about what he was doing. He had in effect been reduced to being little more than a prostitute, selling himself for favours or money to Balwant, and now, Aggarwal. It saddened him to realize just how naïve he had been. He did not live in a society where change could be brought about through good intentions, or even superhuman capabilities alone. Little could be accomplished without becoming a part of the same dirty system that was the root of most of the problems. Arnab had little choice, as he desperately needed the money to get more information from Arif, but even as he set out to do Aggarwal's bidding, he couldn't help but feel as if he had been physically violated in some way.

The next day, Arnab exploded back into the media spotlight with a series of high-profile operations. First was a foiled robbery at a jewellery store that left four armed robbers in hospital and more than a hundred witnesses gaping at the return of the nation's new favourite son. Next in his sights was a gang of hired goons sent by a builder to evict some slum dwellers. There were six of them, and a bit out of practice after his long break, Arnab suffered a bruising blow to his left shoulder when one of them connected with an iron rod, but after that, he knocked them out them in minutes. He capped it off with a sensational fight against seemingly impossible odds. A traffic accident outside Khan Market after nine at night had left a lone woman driver facing an angry mob of construction workers. They had begun throwing rocks at her car and some of them had begun to surge ahead, driven by anger at the injury to one of their fellow workers and perhaps lust at seeing an attractive young woman all alone. Just then, Arnab zoomed into the scene, standing between the mob and the car. The woman was by now frantically dialling the police for help, but there was no chance they would get there in time. For now, all that stood between her and serious injury, or even death, was the mysterious hooded superhero that stood before her car. Arnab took in the mob as he tried to calm his breathing and prepare for the melee that was about to erupt. There must have been at least a dozen of them. Two or three of them lost their appetite for a fight on seeing Arnab and melted away, but the others stood their ground, goaded on by a tall, muscular man who seemed to be their leader.

'He's one man. We can get him if we attack together.'

The men seemed to take courage at his words and began approaching Arnab at a slow, menacing trot. Small knives appeared in a few hands, but the rest of the mob seemed unarmed. As Arnab scanned the group, he realized his window for action was narrow. If they came close enough, despite his strength and speed, there was a chance one of them could get in a knife thrust and then with sheer weight of numbers, they could overpower him. He locked gazes with the big man who seemed to be their leader, and as they made eye contact, Arnab could see him start to hesitate. The man had been counting on superiority of numbers, but facing a personal challenge from Arnab was not something he had counted on. Before the men could come any closer, Arnab acted, striking with the speed and ferocity of a cobra.

Everyone around saw only a blur of movement and the big man fell in a heap to the ground. The other men stood still, too stunned to react or hit back. Arnab glowered at them, challenging them to attack. One of the men, perhaps incensed by his fallen friend, lunged at Arnab with a knife in his right hand. It was a pathetic and futile attack, as Arnab saw him coming, moved out of the way and then stood behind the man. Arnab had had a lot of time to execute the move, but everyone else saw him seemingly move behind the man as if by magic, as his attacker fell to the ground, unbalanced by his attack that had met only thin air. Arnab bodily lifted the man over his head and threw him a few feet away, as if he were tossing away the garbage. The rest of the mob fled in fear, as onlookers clapped, cheered and snapped photo after photo.

Then it was time to honour his bargain with Aggarwal. Instead of melting away at top speed as he had always done, Arnab walked to a nearby liquor store, and asked the bewildered shopkeeper for a cold can of Woodpecker beer. As over a thousand people gathered to watch their favourite superhero put away a cold one, Arnab grimaced at the bitter taste of beer, the first he had ever experienced. After a couple of sips, he zoomed away, pausing to throw away the can when he was out of sight, before he continued home. The next morning, the papers were full of reports and photographs of the Guardian Angel's explosive return. Prominent among them was the photo of him holding a can of the beer brand owned by Pravin Aggarwal's corporation. Several reporters wryly commented about how even superheroes needed a cold beer once in a while, but it was a publicity coup of unprecedented proportions for Aggarwal.