Mainak Dhar: Heroes R Us

Balwant Singh College of Arts was not exactly known for its academic excellence, and the majority of its students were either those who could not get admission into better colleges or had come in through the 'management quota'- a handy euphemism for either having connections or money. As a result, the library saw only a handful of visitors each day, and Arnab had plenty of free time to scan the papers for competitive exams that he could apply for. He was lost in his book when suddenly someone yanked it down from in front of his face. His initial irritation at this unexpected interruption gave way to tongue-tied surprise when he saw that his visitor was none other than Mishti.

'Hi, Arnab! How are you doing?'

Arnab took a second to compose himself before replying.

'Great, thanks. Jayantada's just gone to the toilet. You may need to wait for a few minutes.'

For the next ten minutes, Mishti wandered around the shelves, picking up the occasional book, browsing a few pages, and then replacing it back to its place. Arnab was pretending to work, but to be honest, deciding whether The French Revolution in Art would best fit into the History or the Art section was not nearly as interesting as watching Mishti.

Mishti was only too aware that she was being watched, and after a while couldn't take it any more and said over her shoulder,

'If you're not going to do any work and just stare at me, you may as well show me around the campus, since Jayantada seems to have disappeared.'

Arnab was so shocked that he muttered something unintelligible in return and almost dropped the book in his hands.

'Well? I'd also like to see the bank where you fought those robbers.'

Arnab would never confess it openly, but growing up in a small suburb of Calcutta called Uttarpara, and in a school which at any given time had no more than a dozen girls to a hundred boys meant that his exposure to women was pretty limited. Actually when it came to romance, the sum total of his experience was zero. And so Arnab Bannerjee, Associate Head Librarian and accidental hero, set out on what was in effect his first date.

***

As Arnab and Mishti began to walk around the campus, he realized he hadn't bargained for just how uncomfortable he felt. Mishti was pretty, stylishly dressed, and could easily have passed off as one of the students. Every time they passed a group of boys, he would watch them look their way. After a while, he couldn't help himself and asked,

'Don't you get uncomfortable with all these guys staring at you?'

Mishti looked at him with an amused expression, 'I guess you just need to filter it out, but the way you're reacting, I'd think they were eyeing you!'

Arnab blushed even more deeply as Mishti burst into laughter. She sensed how uncomfortable he was around her, and actually found it refreshing to meet a guy whose single point agenda wasn't to make a pass at her. Soon they were walking past the bank, and she tugged at his arm,

'Arnab, please show me where it all happened.'

Arnab was about to lead her into the bank when he felt that it was somehow wrong. To be mistaken for a hero was one thing, but to perpetuate that lie was quite another.

'Mishti, can we grab a coffee first?'

As they sat down at the Cafe and ordered coffee, Arnab began telling Mishti what had actually happened in the bank, and how in fact, he was no hero after all. When he finished, he half expected Mishti to be disgusted but was surprised to see her still smiling.

'You know, Arnab, being a hero isn't something people plan on. Telling me what you just did takes real guts, and that in a way makes you a bigger hero than most people. Almost every one of the guys I know would have just lied about it to impress a girl, if they were in your position.'

Arnab didn't know what to say, and so blurted out,

'So you're not impressed?'

For a second, Mishti thought he was flirting with her, but one look at his eager, bespectacled face told him that his question was born out of genuine concern. Once again, she burst out laughing, leaving Arnab confused, as he didn't think he had said anything funny. As the two of them chatted about each other, Arnab realized just how different they were. He was from a small suburb on the outskirts of Calcutta, with an education in the local school and college, much of it in Bengali medium. He would sometimes stop in mid-sentence to translate in his mind what he wanted to say in English. She had been educated in prestigious schools in Delhi, with an MBA to boot, and made him feel like an ignoramus in comparison. She talked of the music she liked to hear, but words like Coldplay and Maroon Five were little more than gibberish to him.

Add to that the fact that she looked stunning, and he, well, even by his own description, was tall, dark, and bug-eyed, which made him realize just how out of his depth he was. Fifteen minutes into the conversation and Arnab decided to come clean with himself on two things. First was the fact that he had found Mishti extremely attractive and had secretly wondered if anything could ever happen between them. The second was the realization that such a thing happening was about as likely as his becoming a millionaire.

Still, it was nice to sit with her and wile away time, and he was beginning to wonder if he should ask her if she'd like to have lunch when a familiar voice broke his reverie.

'Arnab, just because I promoted you doesn't mean you sit here and drink coffee! In my ten years as Head Librarian, I have never done such a thing.'

Jayantada! Arnab groaned as he turned to face what he was sure would be a totally embarrassing dressing down in front of everyone in the Cafe. But before Jayantada could wade into him, Mishti intervened,

'Jayantada, that's not fair. You weren't there so I asked him to show me around.'

Arnab had never seen Jayantada back down so fast and so sheepishly.

'Ok, ok, just get back to work soon.'

As he walked off, Mishti looked at him with a conspiratorial smile, 'Don't let him bully you around. He looks scary but is actually quite a softie.'

As Mishti wished him goodbye and went to join Jayantada, Arnab returned to the library, even more in awe of the girl he had just met.

Arnab was done by about five o'clock and packed his bag as he got ready to leave. One of the perks of working at the library was that he took home books to read almost every day. Growing up in a Bengali medium school with only a basic library, he had long got into the habit of reading as a way of both learning about the world outside, and also to try and get a better mastery of English. That habit had stayed with him through the years, and books had become a constant companion of his. In particular, he loved reading about great personalities, always in awe of how people from seemingly ordinary backgrounds could accomplish so much. Today he was taking home Nelson Mandela's autobiography.

He walked to the bus stop near the Patel Chest Institute, which was just a few minutes away from his college gate. Once there, he bought a soft drink from a roadside stall and sat there, savouring the drink and thinking of just how eventful his boring life had become over the last few days.

Little did he realize how much more was to come his way.

***

His bus arrived within a few minutes and as Arnab climbed on, he realized the advantages of staying back late. Most of the students would have gone home at least an hour earlier, and now there were just a handful of other passengers on the bus. He sat down near the back of the bus, took out his book and began reading. It would be at least an hour-long trip to the bus stop near the Delhi Zoo, where he changed buses to complete his journey home. He had been so lost in his book that he had paid little attention to what was happening on the bus, when he heard a bit of a commotion. When he looked up, he saw that the bus had halted at a stop, and picked up two new passengers who seemed to be making the noise. Both were young, dressed in torn jeans and tight tshirts, and sported the gym-buffed bodies and loud mouths that Arnab had come to recognize as the trademarks of such louts around Delhi campuses. One of the earliest pieces of advice Jayantada had given him was that such characters were best avoided-to tangle with them was always more trouble than it was worth. So Arnab blocked out their off-key singing, their insisting on speaking loudly in sentences peppered with the vilest of Hindi abuses, and tried to focus on his reading.