Mainak Dhar - Heroes R Us

Arnab opened the bundle to find his sweatshirt and clothes, all covered with dried blood. As he held the sweatshirt up in his hands and looked up at Khan, the old man sat down beside him.

'You know, Arnab, there are many things about me that you do not know as well. My wife, Salma, died four years ago, after giving me thirty of the best years of my life. I have a son, Asif, who lives in Canada.'

Arnab could see the tough old boxer's eyes begin to moisten. Khan continued.

'He would be almost the same age as you. The fool has changed his name to Alex and refuses to stay in touch with the poor, old man who brought him up. Perhaps he is ashamed of me. Perhaps he blames me for not doing enough for him. Anyways, I have nothing to live for and not much I can say I did with my life.'

Arnab reached out to touch Khan's hand, but he pulled away. Khan got up and stood before Arnab.

'You have kept your secret well, and I will now help you keep it. I don't understand how you do what you do, but in these dark times, perhaps it is but a gift from the Almighty. Inshallah, if I can help you continue what you have started, then perhaps I can one day say that I did something worthwhile after all before I die.'

Arnab tried to thank Khan, but the old man shook his head.

'My son, no need to thank me. It is you a lot of people have to thank. Now you need rest to recover your strength, and then I will teach you a few moves you won't learn in the boxing manuals, so that when you meet the swine who did this to you, you can give them a gift from me.'

The old man laughed and said he'd go and get some dinner. Arnab asked him if anyone else knew.

'Not a soul. You were lucky, or perhaps charmed. Three bullets grazed you, but none went in. You lost a lot of blood but no lasting damage. I did the first aid and the bandages. It may not look pretty, but I treated a lot of cuts and bruises in my time in the ring, so I think you'll be fine.'

As Khan went out of the room, Arnab sat back, thanking his lucky stars, and also burning with anger within. With all that he had seen and heard in the last few months, he realized that he had never really felt this kind of fury. He had been going about his work with the kind of detachment that Arnab Bannerjee brought to everything he did. It had become something he had taken as another piece of work to be done, almost a night-job of sorts, to be done with diligence but without much emotion vested in it. Now it was something different. It was personal. He would not let Upadhyay and his men continue what was little more than cold-blooded murder any longer, and he realized that to do that, he would need to rely on more than just his strength and speed. He had learned the hard way that those were not enough when stacked up against men with guns.

When Khan re-entered the room, Arnab stood up, masking out the pain, resolve in his eyes.

'Khan chacha, I need to fight an enemy more dangerous than a few goons with knives. I need more than boxing skills to fight them. You were in the Army, right? Can you help me?'

Khan put the plate of steaming hot parathas on the table and smiled at Arnab.

'I was a lowly infantryman, so I can't teach you fancy tactics and theory. But I have been fired on and have fired back, and have grappled hand to hand with men far more dangerous than the ones you face. So yes, I can teach you a thing or two.'

Arnab called Jayantada the next morning, saying he was down with a bad case of the Flu and needed several days of being on antibiotics to recover. With winter vacations around the corner, he'd miss only a day or two of work, so he wasn't too worried about Jayantada noticing anything amiss. Arnab spent the next week at Khan's place, waiting for his wounds to heal, exercising to keep in shape, sparring with Khan and spending hours talking with Khan about combat tactics. Moving from cover to cover, flanking an enemy position, doing battlefield reconnaissance-it was all new to Arnab, but Khan was a patient teacher, and every time Arnab's concentration flagged, he'd picture Upadhyay's face. When Khan learnt of the full extent of Arnab's capabilities, he exclaimed in delight.

'My boy, you need to use your secret weapon more!'

Arnab had no idea what Khan meant so he continued.

'The fact that you can see in the dark. Everybody by now knows about your speed and strength, and this DCP now also knows that with the right numbers and firepower those can be defeated. What nobody knows about is your night vision-and there is no way anyone can know that unless you tell them. That is what you must learn to use to your advantage.'

During this time, the papers were having a field day with the sudden absence of the 'Guardian Angel'. A few wags quipped that perhaps even superheroes needed a break during the holidays, and wondered where Delhi's resident superhero would have gone for his annual vacation.

When Arnab got back to his apartment, there were just two days to go to the New Year, and he decided that before the break was over, he would devote every night to putting an end to the 'Stoneman' scam. However, his planning was interrupted when he received an SMS from Mishti.

'Hi stranger. You never reply, but now you can't escape. Am in Delhi! What say to coffee today?'

As Arnab put the phone down, he felt a strange sadness come over him. Just a few weeks ago, he would have been jumping through hoops on receiving such a message from Mishti. He remembered his trip to Gurgaon to meet her, feeling as nervous as a schoolboy on his first date. He remembered the exhilaration of the days he had spent being in daily contact with her, sharing every little detail of his day, feeling closer to her than he had with any friend previously. Now, as much as he tried, he could not bring himself to feel anything approaching that. Everything he had seen over the last few months had perhaps taken its toll, without him realizing it. Had he been so immersed in fighting the dark side of man that he wondered if in some way, it had rubbed off on him? In looking evil in the face every night, had he lost something of himself to it? When he rode in a bus nowadays, no longer was he immersed in his make-believe world of novels. He found himself scanning his surroundings for any sign of trouble. When he entered a room, he focused on possible exit routes. When a car braked suddenly on the road, he turned, ready to fight.

What has happening to him?

***

That evening, Arnab met Mishti at a coffee shop, and when she walked in, there was a brief moment of awkwardness when it seemed that she was about to hug him. Arnab stuck out his hand, and laughing, Mishti shook it instead.

'God, it's been so long, Arnab. How have you been? My boss is coming to Delhi for some meetings, and I figured I'd come a few days early and spend New Year's Eve here.'

As the two of them sat at a corner table and talked, Arnab realized that he was not the only one to have noticed the changes in him. After a few minutes of conversation, Mishti put her hand on his and asked, 'Arnab is everything all right? You seem different.'

'I'm fine, Mishti. Why do you say I'm different?'

'The Arnab I knew smiled a lot more, and his eyes were not so…so…hard.'

Arnab brushed it off, saying he was just tired, but then Mishti dropped a bombshell.

'Arnab, there's something I want to talk to you about. This is awkward for me to bring up, but there's an old friend of mine from college, Pankaj, and he recently proposed to me. We were seeing each other in college for some time, and then drifted apart when he went abroad. He's come back and we've been in touch, and he's asking if we could be together again.'

Arnab's heart stilled. Why was she telling him this? When he said nothing, she went on,

'I haven't replied to him. I wanted to talk to you first.'