Heroes R Us

by Mainak Dhar

  Those words stayed with Arnab as he reached Mathura Road. It was dark now, but he had not yet changed. He quietly walked around the area, using his night vision to scan his surroundings from behind a tree. Upadhyay was standing just ten feet away, holding his revolver in his hand, standing partly concealed behind a parked police car. As he scanned the area, he could see five constables in the open, rifles in hand, and he could see two more hiding behind parked cars on either side of the road. He was glad he had listened to Khan's advice and not come raging into the ambush that had been set for him. As he walked out of the area, he put on his sweatshirt and gloves and sat down quietly near the base of a flyover, hidden in the darkness, watching. The policemen kept scanning the roads, watching for his arrival, but in the darkness, there was no way they could see that he was but a few feet away, hidden in the shadows. In contrast, he was able to see their every move, and see through the trap they had laid for him. They had the advantage of numbers, but he had the advantage of total surprise, and he had time on his side. So he just sat there, watching the men who had planned to kill him. After thirty minutes, he could see Upadhyay begin to get impatient, spitting on the ground and checking his watch. Several of the constables were also stirring, wondering whether they were just wasting their time instead of celebrating the New Year.

  As one of the constables lying in ambush yawned, Arnab made his move.

  He sprinted at the man, grabbing his neck in a vice like grip from behind, putting just enough pressure that the man passed out. Khan would have been proud to see how well his student his learnt some of the new moves he had taught. Upadhyay and the others saw nothing, but felt a sudden gust, which they must have thought was just the wind blowing. Again Arnab waited. The second constable on the other side of the road stretched, putting his rifle on the floor for a second. Arnab picked up a rock from the roadside and hurled it with all his strength at the car the constable was standing behind. With Arnab's strength behind it, the rock hit the car with an impact that might have been more appropriate had it been struck by a rocket. It rocked back, its windows shattering and sending the constable behind it scrambling for cover as he was showered with shards of glass. Cut and bleeding, he lay moaning on the ground. Upadhyay and his men whirled around to see what had happened, unable to see much in the darkness. And then Arnab moved again. He cut through the five constables like a scythe, catching them from behind, and in a matter of seconds, all five were lying unconscious on the ground.

  That left just Upadhyay.

  Upadhyay tried to bring his revolver up but Arnab grabbed his wrist and took the gun from him, flinging it to the side of the road. Upadhyay faced Arnab with a smile on his face, but Arnab could see the policeman's hands were shaking slightly.

  'So you survived. Fucking ghost.'

  As Upadhyay spoke, his voice quavered a bit, and Arnab thought he could see fear in his eyes. Arnab said nothing, but just began to slowly walk around the DCP.

  'What do you want?' Upadhyay was now screaming at him. Arnab said nothing.

  'Do you want revenge for what I did to you?' demanded Upadhyay.

  Then Arnab spoke for the first time that evening.

  'No, I want justice for those you've killed.'

  Upadhyay looked at him for a moment and then sniggered.

  'Fool. If you wanted to kill me, it would be simpler. There is no justice to be had here, not for some dead nobodies.'

  His words made Arnab's blood boil, but he remembered Khan's words. Don't act in anger.

  'I want you to confess to what you did and face the consequences. Unlike you, I am not a killer, which is why you and your men are still alive.'

  Upadhyay took out a cigarette from his pocket, and as he brought it up to his mouth, it slipped to the ground. When he bent down to pick it up, he plucked a hidden pistol from an ankle holster and brought it up, firing at Arnab. Arnab had been watching his every move, and as he saw Upadhyay raise the gun and fire, he stepped out of the way of the bullet. Upadhyay looked at him with disbelief, and was about to pull the trigger again, when Arnab rushed at him, grabbing his hand and forcing it back so hard, he heard the bones snap. Upadhyay screamed in agony and fell to the ground, his right arm dangling at his side like that of a doll that has suffered at the hands of an angry child.

  Before Arnab could say anything else, sirens rent the air. The injured constable by the car had radioed for reinforcements, and as Arnab watched, four armoured cars sped into the area. These were odds even he could not face, and as he began to leave, he looked at Upadhyay again. He was clearly in pain, but had a triumphant look on his face.

  'You cannot win. You are but one man.'

  When Arnab reached home, he sat and reflected on what had happened over the past few days. His mission against Upadhyay and his men had, he realized, in part been the result of his seeking revenge for what they had done to him. However, he also realized that something in him had changed. He could no longer just walk away or turn the other eye when confronted with the corrupt system that someone like Upadhyay represented. He thought back to Upadhyay's words and realized that he didn't really care if he won or not, but he would make damned sure that people like Upadhyay weren't going to get away with it all the time.

  ***

  While the rest of Delhi partied away into the wee hours on New Year's Eve, Arnab was hard at work. He worked tirelessly till dawn, ensuring safe passage for women, sorting out drunken revellers looking for trouble, and in one case, helping a drunken Bollywood starlet out of the car she had crashed. But he reserved his best for a two drunk young men in a jeep, who had run over a pavement dweller and were trying to race away to their farmhouse on the outskirts. Arnab had caught up with them, soundly thrashed them, and then dropped them in front of the Police Commissioner's house, after having divested them of their clothes. Naked, bleeding and freezing, the two upstarts, one of them the son of a Cabinet Minister, made for a great first page photo.

  The next morning's papers were full of stories about the Guardian Angel's explosive comeback, and of how it been the most crime-free and safest New Year's Eve in living memory. But Arnab allowed himself no satisfaction at the night's events, or the humiliation he had heaped on Upadhyay. At best, he had won one more skirmish in what would be a long war, one whose end even he could not see.

  As Arnab walked into college the next day, he met Jayantada who warmly wished him a happy new year. The old man was much chirpier than usual, and Arnab asked him what he had been up to.

  'Arnab, you won't believe how happy I am today. I think Mishti is finally going to get married. One of her friends proposed to her….'

  Arnab didn't hear the rest of the sentence but pretended to busy himself in his work, thinking again just how unfair life was. When he got home and installed his second SIM card, he saw a message waiting for him.

  His fame had clearly attracted another suitor. He had received a message to meet the next day to discuss a 'business proposal'. He had half a mind to refuse, but then his new contact sent a follow up message pleading with him not to refuse as he was coming all the way from Bangalore to meet him. Arnab asked him to come to the car park opposite Pragati Maidan, which he had mentally begun to think as his venue for strange meetings, and the next night, waited for his contact, wary that it could be a trap sprung by Upadhyay. This time, it was not an armoured car, but a chauffeur driven Mercedes that pulled into the car park. Arnab could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw the man who emerged out of the car.

  It was a face that he had seen innumerable times on the cover of magazines and in newspapers, and being interviewed on television. The same salt and pepper beard, the same flashy bracelets, and the same trademark paunch. Standing just a few feet away from him was Pravin Aggarwal, the owner of Woodpecker enterprises, and one of the richest men in India. Arnab wondered what a billionaire businessman could want with him, so he stepped out behind Aggarwal and gently cleared his throat to catch his attention.

  'Oh, there you are! My, you ar
en't as big as they say you are.'

  Aggarwal spoke in the forced American accent he was known for, and which Arnab had found funny while watching him from behind the anonymity of a TV screen, but now facing him in the flesh, he had to admit he felt intimidated. Aggarwal was known to be flashy, brash and aggressive, and lived a lifestyle that would have done movie stars proud, complete with rumours of affairs with starlets and jaunts in exotic locales.

  'Man of few words, eh? Well, my friend, do you know what you are?'

  Arnab just shook his head, wondering where this conversation was heading.

  'You, my friend, are hot property. They say you're a superhero. I say you're the biggest brand name in the country. My research agencies tell me your top of mind recall is higher than Shah Rukh Khan, and you're viewed as being cleaner than Mother Teresa's sari fresh from the laundry.'

  He laughed at his own joke, and Arnab still had no idea what he was leading up to.

  'So, let me keep it simple. Before you consider any other endorsements, I want you to become the brand ambassador for my new beer brand.'

  Arnab was perplexed, and blurted out, 'I don't drink beer.'

  Aggarwal grabbed his ample belly with both hands and laughed, bending over with uncontrollable mirth and finally stood, looking at Arnab with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

  'My friend, you are priceless. So here's the deal, endorse my beer, and I pay you ten million Rupees a year. My ad people even have a slogan that fits you perfectly-extra strength but with a heart of gold. Wonderful, isn't it?'

  Arnab blinked hard. Ten million. He added up the zeroes the number represented. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined such a sum of money. When he remained silent, Aggarwal looked at him and said, 'Not enough? Well, make it twelve, no more.'

  When Arnab protested that this wasn't his line of work, Aggarwal brushed away his objections.

  'Bollocks, man! Every man has a price, and one with your talents commands a high price. Look at all the Cricket stars on my roster-they sell biscuits, toothpaste and beer-all for money. And they claim to be sportsmen though they earn more from my endorsement contracts than from the sport!'

  He laughed and continued, 'They have found their market value and commanded it, now it's your turn. That's the way our system works, my friend. Or did you think you could earn a living beating the crap out of petty criminals? Even superheroes have needs, or do they not?'

  Arnab would be lying if he said that he wasn't tempted, but he had never imagined that the night's meeting would involve endorsing a beer brand, and earning millions of Rupees. But something in his mind told him that it wasn't something he was ready for yet. He mumbled, 'I'll think about it.'

  Aggarwal sighed and said, 'Okay, have it your way. Here's my card. Call me when you decide.'

  As the Mercedes drove away, Arnab wondered where all this was headed. What had started as an act of personal vendetta had become something where he felt he was making a difference and finally counting for something. With the meetings with Sharma and Aggarwal, he began to wonder just how long he would be able to stay the course he had chosen. Fighting criminals had been the easy part, but he was realizing that things were not as black and white as that. When the police were on the wrong side of the law, and the Law Minister in possible cahoots with the criminals, what could one man do? When everything was a commodity to be bought and sold, when it was such common belief that everyone and everything had a price, what could one man do?

  Perhaps Upadhyay had been right after all.

  EIGHT

  Through the day, Arnab kept glancing at Aggarwal's card, wondering what it must be like to be someone who could spend more than ten million Rupees just on a whim. Then he reminded himself that part of the problem was that there were people like Aggarwal, Singh and Upadhyay-people who had the money, influence or power to make a difference, but they chose to not look beyond their own self-interest and short-term gain. As he thought about it, he had to admit that his own motives were not purely altruistic. Yes, he did want to help people, but part of him kept going because it gave him a sense of purpose, a sense of destiny and importance that he had never even come close to experiencing in his life till now. It was that same part of him that kept whispering into his ears to call Aggarwal. He could still go on doing what he had been doing, and if he earned some money on top of that, it wasn't wrong, was it?

  Jayantada noticed Arnab sitting in a corner and came over to sit by his side.

  'What are you thinking about?'

  Arnab would have lied and got on with his work, but not having anyone else to confide in, he opened up to Jayantada.

  'I was thinking about money. You know, I had never thought I'd be very rich, but how does one know if one is rich enough?'

  Jayantada smiled, 'Ah, money. Which young man has not thought about that? If money is all you want, no matter how much you have, it will never be enough. But here's some free advice from an old man. If you can have a home to call your own, can provide for your family, and have enough left over to buy the occasional surprise gift or dinner out for your wife, then you have enough.'

  Jayantada laughed and went back to work, leaving Arnab thinking about his words. Arnab did not get much time to ponder Aggarwal's offer as his phone soon buzzed with a new message from P.C Sharma, asking for a meeting that night.

  Arnab had no idea what Sharma wanted and would have refused but Sharma sent him four more messages pleading with him to meet, saying that the Honourable Minister wanted to clear up matters between him and the police. That got Arnab's attention. It was true that Upadhyay was a crook, but breaking the arm of the Deputy Commissioner of Police and sending half dozen constables in uniform to hospital was bound to have consequences. If nothing else, pissing off the cops and being wanted for assaulting them could make it very difficult for him to operate openly again. He had been wondering what shape and form Upadhyay's retribution would take, so he was glad that Sharma and the Minister seemed to be offering him a way out.

  When Arnab reached a deserted alley behind Khan Market, which had been the agreed meeting spot, he found Sharma and another man waiting for him. Arnab had never seen him before, but assumed he was another one of the Minister's toadies, since he was dressed in a safari suit like Sharma. As Sharma and Arnab acknowledged each other, Sharma's companion kept silent, holding onto a large suitcase with both hands.

  'So Mr Sharma, what does your Minister want?'

  Sharma took out a cigarette and lit it up. Unlike their previous meeting, he betrayed no sense of nervousness, and displayed a smug smile that told Arnab who was in control of the situation.

  'My young friend, its not what the Minister wants, but it's what you should want.'

  When Arnab asked him what he meant, Sharma took out a mobile phone and dialled a number, handing it over to Arnab after a second. Arnab heard a familiar voice at the other end.

  'Hello, I hope our superhero is doing well and has time left over to fight criminals in addition to beating up my policemen.'

  It was Balwant Singh.

  'Sir, I hope you know what DCP Upadhyay is up to…'

  Singh interrupted him, 'It has come to my notice and I have asked for him to be disciplined. See what happens when good people get carried away? A bit like you and your attack on the police.'

  Minister or no minister, Arnab was getting tired of being blamed for things that were not of his making, and he began to protest when Singh stopped him again.

  'Look, you and Upadhyay had a fight, and I don't want to interfere like a father when two children squabble. Each one will claim the other was to blame. I'm not interested in who was to blame; I just want to make sure that this ends. As I said, Upadhyay will be disciplined. But that leaves you.'

  'What do you mean by that?'

  The Minister laughed, but his tone seemed more sinister than funny.

  'You have made some powerful enemies, and Upadhyay likes his Sunday golf sessions, you see. With his fracture, now he won't be able t
o play for weeks, and he's itching to shoot you dead. I've tried to reason with him, but it's hard to control someone as hot-tempered as him.'

  Arnab started to feel that his fears were about to come true so he asked what the Minister wanted him to do.

  'A simple quid pro quo. Don't worry; this may be new to you, but its how politics works. You do something for me, and I do something for you in return.'

  'What could I possibly do for you?'

  'Before we get there, let me tell you what I can do for you. I can give you my official blessings, and say that you are working in collaboration with the government. That way, you can go about your business without worry, and not have to worry about a police bullet in your back.'

  Arnab began to suspect that the Minister was not making the offer out of the kindness of his heart, so he asked what he wanted Arnab to do.

  'My man Sharma has already mentioned it to you. Elections are coming up, and in our democracy, elections are a bit like Football; possession counts for everything-by that I mean possession of the polling booths.'

  Balwant Singh roared in laughter at his own joke, and Arnab continued listening in silence.

  'Sharma will give you a list of polling booths. The Opposition will also be trying to capture these the night before polling, and I need your services in ensuring they don't do so. It's as simple as that. Think of it this way-you just bash up some more goons-no different from what you would be doing anyways.'

  Arnab had a sad smile on his face. To hear such an offer from the Law Minister was a sobering experience. Balwant Singh took his silence to mean that Arnab didn't find the offer attractive enough, so he asked Arnab to give the phone to Sharma. Sharma listened to the Minister's instructions and hung up. He motioned to the man with him, and he stepped forward towards Arnab.

  'We will also handsomely reward you for your services. Here is a token of our appreciation for your help in the elections.'

  The man opened the suitcase in his hand to reveal stacks of thousand Rupee notes. Arnab was by now getting tired of being offered money-why didn't these people understand that everything and everybody was not for sale?