by Mainak Dhar
Something clicked in Arnab's mind, and he froze for a minute.
'Chintu, what did you just say?'
Chintu was taken aback by the sudden change in Arnab's mood and he stammered out his reply.
'Twenty-twenty. Don't you know what that is? That's the short version of the game when each side gets just twenty overs…'
Arnab didn't hear the rest of what Chintu said, as he rushed to his room, leaving his playmate sitting bewildered on the roof. When he reached his room, he shut the door and took in what he had just heard.
Twenty-Twenty.
Twenty. Twenty.
The last two words Arif had said to him before he died.
TWELVE
Things came into Arnab's mind in a torrent. What Aggarwal had said about the India-Pakistan match being sponsored by his company; the fact that it was being held in Delhi; Arif's last words. It could just have been a coincidence, or it could just be the break he needed. He didn't know which was the case, but he did know that he couldn't risk ignoring it. With it being an India-Pakistan match, and with the Indian Prime Minister supposed to be attending it, there seemed to be a fair chance that this indeed was the intended target. Thousands of lives would be at stake, and now that he knew that Jayantada, Mishti, Chintu and his family would be there, it was more personal than ever.
On instinct, he took out his mobile phone to call Aggarwal, and then stopped himself, remembering the policemen who had been scouring the neighbourhood earlier in the evening. Arnab went out to a telephone booth across the street and dialled Aggarwal's personal number. As soon as he answered, Arnab got straight to the point.
'Sir, its me, your new brand ambassador.'
Aggarwal chuckled at his opening.
'So you did decide to agree to our partnership, after all.'
'Yes, but I need to meet you as soon as possible. There are several things I want to plan out, things that should help your match be the biggest media event you've ever had.'
Aggarwal seemed to be enjoying this new side to Arnab and he said, 'You are beginning to talk like my marketing people. Well, I'm there in Delhi tomorrow with some of them to plan our build-up to the match. Let's meet in the evening. SMS me and let me know where you want to meet, since I imagine you'll want to be as secretive as ever.'
As Aggarwal hung up, Arnab realized that his being at the match was only half the battle won. If indeed there was a major terror attack planned on the day of the match, he still had no idea what shape or form it would take, and honestly whether he would be able to stop it all by himself. He debated whether he should call Balwant Singh or not, finally deciding that no matter what enmity Balwant had towards him, the bottom line was that the man was a Minister and he could bring to bear far more resources to foil or prevent any likely terror attack than what Arnab could ever hope to achieve alone. As he dialled Balwant's number, he kept rehearsing in his mind what he would say, and wondering if he had indeed done the right thing on election eve by losing his temper and making a very powerful enemy. The phone was answered by Sharma, who seeing the unfamiliar number asked who it was. When Arnab told him and asked to speak to the Minister, Sharma exploded into a stream of obscenities.
'Have you lost your fucking mind? Do you realize what you have done? The Minister almost lost his seat because of your meddling. Thank God we had friends in the Election Commission otherwise he may just have lost the election. He will kill you if he ever sees you again, so I doubt he'd want to talk to you.'
Arnab didn't know quite what to say, but then he heard Balwant Singh's voice in the background, asking Sharma to hand him the phone. Arnab prepared himself for Balwant's temper and was surprised to hear the Minister talk in a cold, even voice. As he spoke, Arnab pictured a snake coolly waiting to strike, not wasting time or energy in any demonstrations of anger.
'So, my superhero, what am I do with you?'
Arnab tried to say something but Balwant continued as if he hadn't heard anything.
'I'm not as angry as I am curious. Why would you do something like this? Do you really think you were the only one I was relying on and that you could single-handedly play the hero? It was most inconvenient and cost me lots of money, but as Sharma told you, I still won.'
Arnab listened, waiting for what would come next, wondering if there was a chance Balwant would forgive him, only to have those hopes dashed by what the Minister said next.
'I have no intent of having anything to do with you. So don't waste my time.'
Arnab tried one last time.
'Sir, there is going to be a major terrorist attack at the upcoming Woodpecker Cup match. You must do something, maybe just cancel the match.'
Balwant's laughter echoed over the phone.
'You are pathetic if you hope that feeding me some bullshit information like this will save you.'
'Sir, I am not a liar, please listen to me', pleaded Arnab.
Balwant's last words said it all as he hung up on Arnab.
'I don't know if I'm talking to a liar or not, but here's what I do know. I am talking to a dead man.'
That left Arnab all alone to deal with whatever was going to occur on the day of the match. He spent the next day trying to plan out what he could do, trying to dig deep into whatever Khan had taught him, but soon realizing that taking on roadside Romeos and hired goons was very different from having to take on well-armed and trained terrorists. He was sure they would have a well thought out plan, and from what he had seen happen to Arif and Ali, that they would not hesitate before killing anyone who came in their way. For all the action he had encountered, Arnab had never really contemplated hurting anyone seriously, let alone kill anyone, and wondered what he would do when faced with ruthless killers. He thought of going to Khan for advice, but the memory of Arif's bullet ridden corpse stopped him in his tracks. Knowing Khan, the old man would insist on coming along and trying to help, and the last thing Arnab wanted to do was to put his friend in the path of a near-certain death.
By the time he left home to meet Aggarwal, Arnab had a rough plan in his head. If he was honest with himself, calling it a plan was being highly charitable. He wasn't even sure that the attack would occur on the day of the match, and if it didn't, all he would have achieved was to become a mascot for Aggarwal's beer brands and a big, whopping target for Upadhyay and his men, whom he was sure Balwant would have already turned loose after him.
When he reached the parking lot behind a mall where they had agreed to meet, it was close to ten at night. He saw Aggarwal from a distance, but the business tycoon had not come alone. There was a woman standing next to him, her back turned towards Arnab.
Arnab walked over to them and greeted Aggarwal. The tycoon looked at him with a start.
'My goodness, I never see you coming and you always make these dramatic entrances in the dark. Don't keep doing that or you'll give me a heart attack some day.'
He then turned to the woman with him.
'Mishti, say hello to the man who is going to bring in millions for our company.'
Arnab froze in his tracks on hearing the name, and as he looked carefully, he saw to his surprise that the woman with Aggarwal was none other than Mishti. Aggarwal continued.
'My friend, this is Mishti, our Marketing Manager. I thought she should come along to discuss what we do on the day of the match to launch you and our partnership in the best possible way.'
Arnab took a step back and then relaxed. There was no way Mishti would guess it was him, and wearing his hood, without his glasses, and in the dark, there was little chance that she would recognize him. The one thing he was worried about was her recognizing his voice, so he motioned for Aggarwal to come closer to him.
'Mr. Aggarwal, I need to talk to you alone first. You can then brief her.'
Aggarwal shrugged and walked with him to a bench a few feet away, where they both sat down.
'Sir, I may have some information that there could be a terrorist attack on the match.'
Aggarwal's eyes
widened in alarm.
'Really? What do you know? Tell me!'
Arnab realized just how pathetic he sounded without any details to offer, and he was not sure he wanted to reveal his interactions with Arif lest it get him into even more trouble with the cops. So he just said that with it being an India-Pakistan match, and the Prime Minister in attendance, with the heightened tensions on the border and the recent spate of bombings and terror attacks in Indian cities, he had heard it could be a prime target.
'Isn't there any way you could change the venue or postpone the match?'
Aggarwal looked at Arnab with a quizzical expression, as if to see if he was joking. Finally he said, 'An event like this will get its share of threats. India and Pakistan are playing after many months, and both governments want to make sure it goes off smoothly. My security guys tell me we already have six threatening calls so far, and guess what, every single one of them turns out to be some joker looking for publicity. All the tickets are sold out, and there's no reason to cancel it. Also, with the PM there, this would be more secure than anywhere else in the city.'
He lit up a cigarette, and changed the subject, indicating that the topic was closed. Arnab was disappointed, but not really surprised. All it meant was that on the day of the match, he would have nobody else to look to for help. He outlined to Aggarwal what his terms and conditions were, and in ten minutes, he was on his way home, wondering if what he had in mind would be even barely sufficient when the time came.
***
The week leading up to the match seemed to crawl along at such an agonizingly slow pace that Arnab thought the tension would drive him crazy. While he tried not to think too much about what might happen on the day, there was no escaping the fact that he was headed into a situation that he was barely prepared for. Many months ago, when he had looked at himself in the mirror and contemplated what was happening to him, he had wondered if it was his destiny or a curse to be endowed with such powers. Now, he realized that whether or not it was his destiny, or just chance, it was indeed a curse to be in his position. When he had been just a middle-class librarian with nothing special about him, life had seemed simpler. Sure, he realized so much around was rotten, but the helplessness of knowing he could do nothing to change it in a perverse sort of way led to a sort of contentment, or acceptance at any rate. Ever since he had come to grips with his new powers, he had fooled himself into believing that perhaps he could make a difference, perhaps there indeed was a way one man could change things for the better. Now, bitter, defeated and having to be a part of that very system to achieve his objectives, he realized just how little he had understood about the way the world worked. If there was to be any redemption, it lay in foiling whatever attack was planned on the day of the match.
It struck Arnab that he had stopped worrying about what would happen afterwards. He had almost forgotten about joining the bank, which at one time had been his dream job. He saw the suitcase filled with more money than he could ever imagine, but didn't really think about what he would do with it. Perhaps he was just so focused on the day of the match, or perhaps, he didn't really think he would live to see what lay beyond, since he would be in the markedly unenviable position of being in the sights of both the police and the terrorists.
As a result, he spent that last week trying to close the open loops in his life. He went to work every morning for three days, working at express speed to complete the project he had promised to finish before leaving. When he finally unveiled it to Jayantada, the old man told Arnab, his voice cracking with emotion.
'My boy, this will always remind me of you when you're gone.'
'I hope this does as well, Jayantada. Thank you for everything.'
Arnab handed over a bulky package to Jayantada, and when he opened it, he found a leather bound edition of War and Peace.
Jayantada chuckled and then hugged Arnab, not even trying to hold back the tears. To his surprise, Arnab found his own eyes fill with tears. He knew he would miss the old man, and as he wished him goodbye, he was glad he could at least restore Tolstoy to his rightful pride of place on the library's shelves. After all, it had been the unplanned demonstration of Tolstoy's boxing skills that had set him on this path to begin with.
Next on Arnab's list was a call to Mishti. She seemed to be very surprised to receive his call, but he felt none of the nervousness he had felt when he had spoken to her earlier.
'Hi Mishti. Jayantada told me about your upcoming engagement, and I wanted to wish you all the best.'
That broke the ice.
'Why, thanks Arnab! That's really sweet of you. What happened to your own plans?'
'Just a few days more and I'll know for sure.' He said, only half lying.
'Listen, Mishti, I am sorry if I hurt you in any way. I was just stupid, I guess. Perhaps I should have given some indication earlier of where I stood.'
He could almost hear Mishti's voice catch, and he cautioned himself. He just wanted to part on a happy note, not dig up past memories, so he changed his tone to a more cheery one.
'But all's well that ends well, right? You've got your knight in shining armour and I've got my own plans. Just be happy and all the best again.'
'Hey, Arnab, I will let you know when the marriage gets fixed, but do try and come.'
'Mishti, all depends on where my plans take me. But if I'm around, I'll be there.'
As he hung up, he realized that no matter how much he had tried to convince himself that he had forgotten about Mishti, he was wrong. Talking to her again brought back memories, and regrets, and he almost wished he had not called her at all. Well, there was no point in thinking about the past, was there? He certainly didn't have the time for it.
Finally, the day before the match, he went to meet Khan.
'Arnab, where the hell have you been? What are you up to?'
Arnab walked into Khan's house, lugging the suitcase Aggarwal had given him.
'Khan chacha, I am off on the mission and I came to say goodbye.'
Khan exploded in anger.
'Goodbye, my ass! I am going with you, wherever you're headed to. We are a team, remember?'
When Arnab looked at Khan, he surprised both of them with the tears that had welled up in his eyes.
'More than a team, Khan chacha. You're the closest thing to a family I've had.'
The old man's face softened, as he held Arnab's hand.
'My boy, take me along. You don't have to do this alone.'
'No, Khan chacha. This is something I have to do alone. I can't have you get hurt.'
'Then, my boy, I'll follow you.'
'I can run faster than you', said Arnab with a grin.
Khan laughed and as Arnab sat down, Khan disappeared, reappearing with a bottle of rum and two glasses.
'Then at least, you can get drunk with me.'
As he filled the glasses, Khan said that Arnab was making him feel old and useless.
'Not at all, Khan chacha. In case I don't make it back, I want you to carry on the fight. If I do, then, well, our team is back in business.'
The two drank till late, and Arnab went to sleep in Khan's living room. The next morning, Khan woke up to find Arnab gone and a large suitcase near his bed. A small note on the suitcase said.
'I trust you'll put this to good use in case I don't come back.'
***
The day of the match was more pleasant than any summer day in recent memory. The temperature threatened to get unbearable by noon, but by evening had settled at a comfortable level, helped along with by a brisk breeze blowing from the Yamuna river. The sky was clear, and commentators were already proclaiming that it was a perfect day for the match. A day-night affair, the match was to begin at six in the evening, and by the time it ended at about eleven, it was estimated that close to a hundred thousand fans would be crammed into the Jawaharlal Nehru stadium in Delhi, and several hundred million others would be watching the action on television.
Arnab had reached the stadium well
before most spectators had arrived. Armed with a VIP Pass as he had asked of Aggarwal, he could access areas of the stadium where only a few others, the organizers and security personnel, could go. He had demanded this so that he could have freedom of movement, and Aggarwal had instantly agreed. His sweatshirt was tied around his waist, and his gloves were in his pocket. Aggarwal had asked him when he would make his grand entry, but he had given a counter-proposal that the tycoon seemed to love. Instead of one grand unveiling, they would wring as much entertainment as possible out of it to keep the media and crowds interested. Aggarwal would announce that the Guardian Angel would be present as his brand ambassador and in the break between each over would reveal himself in unexpected places. The grand reveal would come in the presentation ceremony at the end of the match, when he would hand over the cup to the winning captain and formally announce his partnership with Woodpecker Industries. That was still hours away, but what the arrangement meant was that Arnab had a free reign to reconnoitre every corner of the stadium, watching for where, and if, trouble struck.
As Arnab watched the first spectators file in, he was sure of one thing. No terrorist would be coming in disguised as a spectator. With the Prime Minister in attendance, there were rigid security procedures in place. Spectators couldn't bring in any bags or even bottles of water, and every one was subject to an x-ray and frisking. It made the task of getting the thousands of spectators into the stadium a painfully slow process, but the Cricket-crazy fans didn't seem to mind, as they waited their turn to watch their sporting icons in action. Not knowing where the attack may come from was frustrating, but Arnab tried to still his mind as he took in the stadium and where he would start his patrol. On his request, Aggarwal had procured for him detailed plans for the stadium, including where the security posts were going to be. Arnab had studied it till his eyes glazed over, and by now, he knew by heart where each access point was and the nature of security there. Some of the gates were to be guarded by the elite National Security Guard commandos, brought in given the number of VIPs in attendance. However, most of them were to be manned by the local police, and Arnab guessed that if the terrorists had done their homework, they would attack one of these gates.