Mainak Dhar - Heroes R Us

Since when had be become so self-centred and callous that he could consider an attack that would kill even one innocent person 'ordinary' and not worth stopping?

When he did finally fall asleep, he found himself in a strange dream. He was in a car, being driven somewhere, and for some reason he was desperately trying to call Mishti on his cellphone. No matter how many times he tried, he just couldn't get through. When he did finally get through, he was telling her that he would get there as soon as he could, that she shouldn't worry, but she sounded terrified. She was in some sort of danger, though he couldn't later remember what it was. All he did remember was that he was trying his best to get to her, but unable to do much except scream out his impotent rage as he realized that he would never be able to get to her in time. He woke up covered in sweat, his heart beating so fast it felt like it would burst. When he checked the clock, he saw that it was just three in the morning, but no matter how many times he tried to go back to sleep, he found he could not. As he lay there, he began to realize what his dream was trying to tell him. It had told him just what a frightening and overwhelming thought it was to have even one person he knew and cared about in danger. If he were in a position to do something about an attack that could threaten hundreds or even thousands of innocent people, would he ever be able to live with his conscience knowing he could have done something to stop it but had chosen to walk away? Could he deal with endless nights of dreams of the sort he had just endured?

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.