Shining Hero (29 page)

By the time Arjuna came back from school on his vacation, Karna had completed his training.

He began to lie awake at night, going through every move for the wrestling match with Arjuna the following day. Or plotting his strokes all night long before a squash match with Arjuna at the Calcutta Club. As days passed he began to count up the wins and
defeats in his head and sometimes became filled with panic because Arjuna was winning. On other occasions he would feel that he had actually beaten Arjuna more often. He began to lose count of who had won the most times. But in spite of all the lessons Karna was still motivated by rage and hatred. He would batter Arjuna with padded fists, or hurl his opponent again and again in judo throws, perform such sudden and strong karate chops that made Arjuna reel, winded.

Shivarani told Bhima gloomily, ‘Each time I think things are getting better between Arjuna and Karna, they find new things to quarrel about.’

‘What about giving them a chance to compete with other children,’ suggested Bhima. ‘It will get them out of this way of seeing only each other as rivals.’ He arranged with a Calcutta school for Arjuna and Karna to come and first demonstrate their skills and then accept challenges from other boys. The headmaster was enthusiastic. What a lift for his school it would be when it was known that the boys of the famous Shivarani had performed there.

The whole school watched entranced as Karna and Arjuna fought it out and were awed by Arjuna’s impressive, powerful swipes and the wild, sneaky, determined way in which Karna attacked. Long after any other boy in the school would have given in, Karna and Arjuna went on hammering blow after blow into each other’s faces, till their breath was gone and their eyes swelled. When it was over, the head told his pupils that now they knew what real commitment meant and that when it was their turn they must compete with as much courage and determination as Karna and Arjuna had just done. But no one would fight with Arjuna and Karna. The other boys had seen the ferocious attacks of Shivarani’s nephews and were too afraid.

But all the same, as time went on, Shivarani began to feel Karna’s training had improved his attitude, and that he was starting to take more interest in perfecting his own strikes, lunges, punches and chops than in damaging Arjuna.

Karna was constantly challenging Arjuna. ‘I’ll race you to Dattapukur.’
Or ‘I’ve learnt a new throw. See if you can defend yourself.’ But Shivarani saw that Bhima had been right. Karna’s training had taught him to fight with rules and to respect his opponent.

When Shivarani had lived in Naxalbari, a boy of thirteen had come to her in despair. ‘When I look into my future, Madam, I see no job at all for me for the rest of my life, for there are even old men in this village who have never had work. And without work what am I? I cannot marry, I will never have children. Can you not please help me?’ Shivarani had brought him back to Calcutta with her, had paid for him to continue his schooling out of her own pocket until she managed to get a scholarship for him, and eventually had persuaded the leader of the Naxalite Movement to give the lad a job. After a few years he had been made secretary of the party, had married, and now had five children and a nice house in Bombay. He had been hugely grateful to Shivarani, writing to her at each success, saying it was all because of her and telling her that he owed her many favours and that if there was anything he could do for her, she must only let him know.

She had not heard from him for some years, then she read an advertisement for a film school and realised that it was her Naxalite friend who ran it. She wrote asking him to take on Karna. ‘He is my nephew and although he has not had a good education, having by unfortunate chance been brought up on the Calcutta streets, he sings beautifully and also he has had a most excellent training as a dancer and in the martial arts. Perhaps you will be able to start him off as a playback singer or stunt man, performing athletic, martial or dancing moves for less flexible actors.’ She waited for the reply with a great certainly that she was on the way to securing Karna’s future.

Lately Arjuna and Karna had been behaving better. Their contests had been formal, and it seemed to Shivarani that they were starting to hate each other less. She decided they needed a reward.

‘I will take them both out,’ she thought, ‘for they are nearly
grown-up men.’ And told them, ‘We will go to Firpos for dinner.’

Arjuna appeared wearing a cream silk shirt, beautifully cut white trousers and a silver tie. Shivarani had feared Karna might come in his gaudy Japanese nylon and was gratified that he wore an Indian black silk atchkan, a high-collared coat buttoned down the front, with tight white jodhpur trousers. He was a little too short and bore the signs of childhood stunting but there was a boyish flush of excitement on his cheeks that made him almost charming. She felt touched that he had worn clothes that he knew would please her.

Karna followed Arjuna and Shivarani through the long dining room. It was the first time he had been to a glamorous restaurant and he tried not to look too awed and thrilled by the glitter of candles, chandeliers, the shining weighty silver cutlery, glistening glassware and brilliant white starched linen.

The waiter who led them wore a towering pugree and a crimson silk cummerbund and for a moment Karna’s happiness was tinged with a touch of sorrow because his mother, Dolly, had never in all her life eaten in a place like this. He felt a pain in his heart because she had lain on the hard pavement and felt so hungry for so long. How lovely it would have been, he thought, if he was coming to dine here with her, instead of with his enemy, Arjuna, and Shivarani who did her duty but did not love him.

Three girls at the adjoining table began to whisper to each other as the waiter came to take Shivarani’s order. Karna took a sneaking peep and realised that they were watching his table with admiration. He tried to be taller and addressing Arjuna, said in a deep-voiced and important tone, ‘Have you heard the latest cricket scores?’

Arjuna blinked quickly and then hastily took up the conversational opening.

Shivarani felt gratified to see the nephews talking formally and politely to each other and felt more pleased than ever because Karna’s expensive training had been so well worth it.

As they reached the end of the meal, the girls at the next table began excitedly whispering to each other. Then one pulled a zinnia from the vase on her table, rose, and came across to Shivarani’s table.

Karna saw her first and something about her made a catch come in his heart because she looked a little like Poopay Patalya. She held out the flower. Her face was shining with excitement. She seemed to be looking at him as she approached. Her eyes were wide and dark, her small red mouth was pouted with stifled laughter. When she reached their table she paused. Karna, feeling suddenly shy, could not take his eyes off her. His breath stopped. She gave him a laughing glance then presented her flower to Arjuna. She kept her hand cuddled in Arjuna’s palm for a long extra moment.

Karna looked down at the table and the flush died away from his face.

‘Go on,’ smiled Shivarani to Arjuna. Arjuna rose, took the girl by the hand, and the pair made their way towards the dance floor leaving Karna and Shivarani alone at the table.

The film-school proprietor took so long to reply that Shivarani began to fear that her letter had been lost. She had not the slightest doubt that when he got her request he would eagerly do all he could to help so when at last his answer came it was a shock.

‘Dear Auntie, How wonderful to hear from you after all these years. How much I would like to help your Karna but there is a long, long waiting list for this school and I am afraid we will not be able to fit your boy in. But it is probably for the best. You say Karna is illiterate and brought up on the pavements. I am afraid that if he studied here he would feel out of place, for all the other students are from rich families and have good backgrounds. Also I fear the parents of the other young people would be upset by their offspring having to mix socially with such a child. I deplore these snobbish attitudes, as you will remember from our time in Naxalbari, but
what can one do? One must be sensitive to the requirements of the customer.’

He was no longer a Naxalite. He had recently become a supporter of the BJP, the Hindu party and it would be fatal to his political ambitions if it became known that he was helping the ward of a Communist minister.

Karna’s face went red, and a shudder seemed to pass through his body when Shivarani told him that her friend did not have room for him.

‘It is a lie, isn’t it? I can tell from your face. He won’t take me because my mother was a dhobi. I know that is the real reason.’ He rushed from the house and did not appear for the rest of the week.

‘Perhaps he has left altogether,’ said Arjuna. He sounded almost regretful. He had come to need the rivalry.

Shivarani felt worried but did not know where to look for Karna.

‘Who cares,’ said Arjuna.

‘Good riddance,’ said Gadhari.

‘He’s probably gone back to his Calcutta ways,’ said Uncle.

Karna, wearing an entire set of brilliantly coloured new clothes, came riding into the Hatibari estate a week later on a brand-new cycle with fourteen gears. He came to a gravel-spraying halt at the front steps and felt a thrill of delight at Arjuna’s glare of envy.

‘Where have you been?’ asked Shivarani crossly.

‘Bangladesh,’ said Karna briefly.

‘Why?’ Shivarani’s relief at his reappearance was being supplanted by a new worry.

‘I’ve got a job,’ Karna said.

‘What sort of job? Tell me about it.’

‘Oh, this and that,’ he told her vaguely. ‘I’m a sort of courier.’

Shivarani had a hopeful vision of Karna pedalling round the city delivering packages, which was swiftly followed by doubt. ‘Don’t give up on film school,’ she said. ‘I’m still trying.’

Karna appeared at intervals, after that, with bulging saddle bags
as though he had been shopping. ‘What have you got in there?’ asked Shivarani. If the police caught him now, she did not think she would be able to pay them off again.

‘This and that,’ he repeated airily.

Karna seemed to wear new clothes every time they saw him. He would flaunt them, strutting a bit and relishing Arjuna’s curiosity.

Karna had developed his own special dress style – back to front baseball caps, tight PVC trousers that emphasised the skinniness of his legs and skimpy nylon jackets with shoulders padded so high that he looked as though he was permanently shrugging. He began to walk with a swagger as though he had a gun in his belt and to chew gum until his jaws never stopped moving.

Arjuna asked Shivarani if he could have a baseball cap and a pair of PVC trousers too.

‘I think Karna looks a freak,’ said Shivarani. ‘And you look very nice in your jeans and sweatshirt. Stick to that. In fact I would like to see you wearing our traditional India dress sometime. Shall I buy you khadi kurta pyjama?’

‘But only foreigners and N.R.I.s wear such clothes these days,’ protested Arjuna. ‘Even bullock cart drivers wear trousers and shirts.’

‘N.R.I.’ ranted Shivarani. ‘What is this N.R.I.? If you want to say Non Resident Indians, which I think is a ridiculously pretentious description anyway, just say it. How sick I am of all these abbreviations.’ Exhaustion and worry about what Karna was up to was eroding her nerves. How she wished she could think of a way of getting him into film school.

Karna spent most of his time in Hatipur when he was around.

‘What does he do there all the time, Arjuna? Do you know?’ Shivarani asked.

‘I’ll go and see.’

‘Don’t go and spy on him,’ she cried. ‘I wouldn’t like that.’ But all the same she did not stop Arjuna.

Karna would see Arjuna coming from far off and make signals to
his friends to hide the piles of watches, fountain pens and cigarette lighters on the tables. By the time Arjuna entered they were all sitting there silently and with virtuous expressions. It made Karna laugh inside, to see the disappointment on Arjuna’s face.

‘My brother thinks we are engaged in some illicit trading,’ Karna would say, looking round the table. ‘Whereas in fact we are just meeting here for a pleasant chat. Isn’t that so, brothers?’ And they would all laugh, making Arjuna’s face go red.

Ever since the evening Shivarani had taken him and Arjuna to the restaurant and the beautiful girl had given Arjuna a flower, Karna had thought about women. He’d been in almost physical pain that evening, watching the way Arjuna put his hand on the girl’s bare arm. He had burned with longing when she laid her head on Arjuna’s shoulder. His skin had imagined, with hungry delight, the feeling of the girl’s hair against Arjuna’s neck and the warm soft moistness of her cheek. ‘It is not fair,’ he had screamed inside. ‘It is not fair.’ Shivarani had suggested he ask one of the other two girls to dance with him but they had not looked like Poopay Patalya. And anyway they would probably have refused him and then his humiliation would have been even deeper. He began remembering girls he had known in Calcutta and to think about pretty girls he had seen in Hatipur like Laxshmi’s daughter, Bika, who would flirt and laugh with him till her mother came shouting with fury and dragged her away. He wanted to kiss Bika, he wanted to make love with her. He began to dream that women’s hands were stroking his forehead and women’s arms were around his body. He wanted the smell of women’s bodies in his nostrils, and the sound of love words in his ears. It was not even sex he craved, though he longed for that as well. He wanted there to be a girl who caressed him with her hands. Even his pony did not soothe him these days. When he rode her, he would lie with his face against her mane, hug her round her neck and wish it was a woman’s waist he held. He would talk to her, ‘Poopay, you are my daughter and my love,’ and his own words would increase his desire because she was not Poopay Patalya but just a horse. Once or twice he had tried flirting with Hatipur girls,
but it was a small village and their mothers and fathers, even their grandparents, were always watching. Arjuna was one thing. This was only Karna.