Mainak Dhar - Heroes R Us

The accumulated tension of the last couple of days got to him and he lay down on his bed, too exhausted to even go out to get something to eat. Just as he was about to go to give into his exhaustion and doze off, there was a knock at the door. Dreading that it may be the police, he opened the door gingerly, prepared to go down fighting if needed. He laughed out loud in relief when he realized that his visitor was Chintu, carrying a Cricket bat.

'Uncle, do you want to play with me?'

Arnab was in half a mind to refuse, but seeing the eager anticipation on Chintu's face he agreed, also figuring that it would help take his mind off the worries that had been consuming him. As they walked up to the roof, Arnab asked Chintu if it wasn't too late for him to be out, since it was already almost eight in the evening.

Chintu replied that it wasn't yet too late. When Arnab asked him how he knew that, Chintu looked up at him and answered in all seriousness.

'I know it's late when Mom shouts for me to come home.'

Arnab's tension dissipated in loud laughter as he and Chintu began a game of Cricket on the roof, a game that had certain peculiar rules laid down by Chintu, primary among them being the fact that he would always get to bat, and that he could not get out. Arnab indulged him and kept tossing the ball to him as Chintu proclaimed his score after every few minutes, and then theatrically raising his bat to celebrate crossing one hundred runs. Arnab was having so much fun that he wished everything else in life was so simple, so innocent. When Chintu tired of piling on the runs, he declared his innings at a self-proclaimed score of 634.

As the two of them sat watching the cars go by, Chintu told Arnab that his father was coming home on leave in a few days. Arnab had met the Major only once, and could sense the boy's enthusiasm at seeing his father again.

'He's taking us to see a Cricket match, you know?'

When Arnab didn't show the level of enthusiasm that he had expected, Chintu persisted, tugging at his arm.

'A big match. India versus Pakistan.'

Arnab looked at him and smiled, wondering if this was the same match Jayantada had mentioned.

'Do you like watching Cricket?' he asked Chintu.

'Only twenty-twenty! That's so cool!'

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.

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.