Arnab spent a lot of the evening thinking of what had happened earlier in the day on the bus, and finally decided that he would drive himself crazy if he kept fretting about it. Figuring that some fresh air might do him some good, he stepped out for a walk, stopping to grab some food at the nearby South Indian restaurant by way of dinner, and was back home by 10. By then, he had already rationalized in his mind what had happened.
He decided that the goons' reflexes had been slowed by the alcohol, and in his panic he must have imagined that they were moving in slow motion. As for his sudden display of strength, he decided that being pushed into a corner and literally fighting for his survival must have allowed him to get a couple of lucky blows in. Also, the last thing the goons would have expected was for him to have fought back. That element of surprise, more than anything else, must have been the factor that ensured he got out in one piece. There must have been nothing more to it. There could not possibly be.
He soon fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, and did not stir till the morning, when his alarm woke him up. The first thought on Arnab's mind was that he had forgotten to turn his alarm off on a Saturday, and wanted to do nothing more than to sleep for a few hours more. With his eyes still closed, he reached out for the alarm clock on his bedside table, and inadvertently sent it careening towards the ground.
Then something truly astonishing happened.
Arnab opened his eyes to see the clock moving towards the ground, except that in apparent defiance of the laws of gravity, it seemed to be falling no faster than a feather floating down to earth. He reached out with his right hand and grabbed it in mid-air before it had completed even half its journey to the ground. He sat up with a jolt, looking at the clock in his hand with a mixture of horror and amazement.
What was happening to him?
What was clear was the fact that whatever had happened on the bus had been no fluke. Arnab rushed to the bathroom mirror to examine himself. There seemed to be no apparent physical changes he could discern, but somehow his reflexes and strength had changed beyond recognition. He decided to put the latter to test once more, and picked up an iron bar that had been lying in a corner of his bathroom, having been left over after some repairs that had been done in the apartment a few months ago. He had kept it to swipe at the occasional rat or lizard that seemed to be his permanent non rent-paying housemates. Arnab picked up the thick rod, which must have been at least two inches in diameter. He grabbed the bar at both ends and flexed his hands, watching in open-mouthed amazement as the thick bar bent as if it were made of rubber. He dropped it and stepped back, horrified at what he had just done.
Next, he walked to the far corner of the room, and plunged his right fist into the brick wall, recoiling in fright as his fist seemed to drill through half the wall, leaving a gaping hole where previously there had been brick and mortar. A kick aimed at another corner of the same wall had even more devastating results as it produced a clean hole in the wall through which a thin beam of sunlight streamed into the room.
Arnab sat down on his bed, struggling to comprehend what was happening to him. He decided that he must be losing his mind, and rushed out of his room, bolting up the stairs two at a time as he made for the roof. He was halfway up when his panic gave way to a feeling of exhilaration. Here he was, Arnab Bannerjee, perennial weakling, the favourite whipping boy of schoolyard bullies, always too slow or too weak to excel at any sport in school-bounding up four floors without breaking a sweat. As he reached the roof, he decided that whatever had happened to him, it perhaps was a wonderful gift. All his life, he had wished he were better looking, more athletic and stronger. While it may have been impossible to do much about the first two, he was now fitter and stronger than he had ever imagined possible. He spied a couple of heavy barbells that some of the neighbouring boys used for exercise lying in a corner. On a whim, he picked up the weights and began juggling them as if they were tennis balls. He was soon laughing out loud as he tossed around the heavy barbells that just a day ago, he would have had needed most of his strength to lift up even once.
He was so lost in his delighting in his newfound strength that he never noticed his landlady's six year-old son, Chintu, walk up behind him.
'Uncle, can nothing hurt you as well?'
Arnab whirled around to see Chintu looking up at him with awe in his eyes. As he quickly put the barbells down, he asked Chintu what he was talking about, trying to pretend that nothing had happened.
'You're as strong as him, so can you also not be hurt like him?'
'As strong as whom?'
'Superman!' was the answer as Chintu held up the comic book he held in his hand. Arnab tried to play down what the boy had seen, but Chintu kept pestering him to try out his powers. As preposterous as the notion sounded, Arnab decided that there was no harm in finding out what he could truly do now. He looked around, and saw a small nail lying on the ground. He picked it up and stabbed at his finger. To both his and Chintu's astonishment, it didn't even tear the skin.
'You are Superman!' squealed Chintu in delight as Arnab looked on blankly at the nail and his finger.
He decided to try again, and stabbed harder with most of his newfound strength, and pulled back as blood spurted from his finger. So he could certainly be hurt, though it seemed to require extraordinary strength to do so. This demonstration of his mortality didn't seem to have done much to dampen much of Chintu's enthusiasm. The boy was now pointing to the cover of the comic that showed Superman flying alongside a jet and was pointing to Arnab,
'Uncle, please show me if you can fly like Superman!' Chintu was now bounding up and down with excitement and caught up in the madness of the moment, Arnab climbed up to the six-foot high water tank tower and accompanied by Chintu's excited squeals, launched himself into flight.
And then he fell flat onto his face.
As he sheepishly got up and brushed the dust off his clothes, Chintu's mother entered the roof.
'Chintu, what are you doing here?'
As Chintu mumbled something about Arnab having turned into Superman, she smiled at him and asked if he'd like to join them for lunch.
'Don't mind Chintu. He always has his mind full of these comics.'
Mrs Bagga lived just one floor above Arnab, and with her husband, an Army officer, posted in Kashmir, would often invite Arnab for meals. She enjoyed the company, and Arnab got a break from the greasy fast food that was his staple diet.
As they sat around the table and Mrs Bagga passed around the food, Chintu leaned towards Arnab and whispered,
'Superman also has X-ray vision, you know.'
Despite himself, Arnab found himself looking at Mrs Bagga's ample bosom and discovered, a bit to his disappointment, that this was another area where he didn't quite match up to Superman.
***
The rest of the afternoon was spent in front of his computer as Arnab tried to find out what could have happened to him. During lunch it had struck him that all this had started after the incident at the bank, and he kept wondering if the two were somehow linked. A few Google searches later, he still wasn't any wiser as to what exactly had happened to him, but was beginning to suspect that he wasn't the only person to have had such an experience. He browsed a handful of websites that claimed to document real life cases of ordinary people who had developed superhuman capabilities. A day ago, he would have dismissed such tales as nothing more than mere figments of someone's imagination. Now, he wasn't so sure any more. One of the themes he picked up on several sites was that the full power of the human brain was still largely unexplored, and extreme trauma and stress sometimes did unlock surprising capabilities, like the case of a woman who woke up from a year-long coma to surprise herself and everyone around her by speaking fluently in a foreign language she had never even heard before, or a cripple who had woken after a severe head injury to discover that he could walk normally.
Arnab wondered if the beating to the head he had received in the bank had unlocked more than just a promotion to Associate Head Librarian.
Arnab would have spent all day discovering what new capabilities he had suddenly picked up, had he not got a call on his mobile at about four in the evening. It was from an unfamiliar number, and he rarely got calls from anyone, so when he picked it up, he was surprised to hear a familiar voice at the other end.
'Hi Arnab, Mishti here. Look, I got your number from Jayantada and was wondering if you'd like to meet up for dinner? Don't say no, I'm going back to Bangalore tomorrow night.'
Before Arnab could think, he found himself saying yes and agreeing to meet Mishti at a TGIF at one of the malls on MG Road in Gurgaon. He was so excited about all that he had discovered over the morning that he wanted to tell her everything, but stopped himself, realizing just how crazy he would have sounded.
As he hung up, he was thrilled, and terrified. Meeting her in college was one thing, but to go out for dinner with her was quite another. He didn't know what he should wear, what he should talk about. He fished out his good pair of jeans, shaved and slathered on after-shave liberally, combed down his curly hair at least a dozen times to ensure it wasn't sticking up like always, and then Arnab Bannerjee hit the town.
He spent the one and a half hour bus journey doing little else but thinking about what he would say and do. Should he walk up and say hi loudly, or would that be too familiar? Should he get some flowers for her? He decided on the latter and along the way, picked up a bunch of Orchids.
Not too romantic, not too boring, said the florist, and not having given flowers to a woman before on a date, Arnab decided to go with his advice.
They cost a small fortune, but then Arnab decided Mishti was worth it. One thing kept puzzling him-why would an attractive, smart young woman like her want with someone as obviously ordinary as him? Was she still harbouring any notions of him being a brave hero? For the life of him, he couldn't remember having done or said anything that he could imagine would impress someone like Mishti, but then, here he was-on his way to have dinner with her on her invitation. There was one thing he was sure of-the fact that he had not looked forward to anything with as much anticipation or excitement in a very long time as he was looking forward to this dinner. An idle mind may or may not be the Devil's workshop, but in Arnab's case, it certainly proved to be the playground for Cupid, as his mind conjured up one fantasy after another about what the future held in store for him and Mishti. It was when he found himself thinking that it would be easy on the relatives since she was also a Bengali, he stopped himself, realizing just how far he had stretched his imagination.
As he neared the restaurant, he realized that he had not even thought about his strange experiences of the previous evening and that morning even once. He decided that was a good thing, as the prospect of meeting Mishti for dinner seemed a decidedly better way to spend the weekend than discovering that he was turning into some kind of freak.
He stepped into the restaurant, scanning the tables for Mishti. While he tried to project an attitude of casual nonchalance, he was sure Mishti would notice how nervous he was. His heart beating ever faster as he looked around the restaurant, Arnab finally caught a glimpse of Mishti.
Then he froze.
She was there all right, but with her were four other people-two women and two men. Mishti still had not seen him, so he took in the scene before him in silence. Mishti and her companions were all wearing expensive clothes of the sort that Arnab would occasionally stare at in malls but never really contemplate owning, and made Arnab's attempts at dressing up look woefully inadequate. His visions of a romantic dinner date already crushed, he thought about it for a second, and then quickly deposited the flowers in a nearby garbage can. By now Mishti had seen him and was waving him over. As he approached the table and awkwardly greeted everyone, he was introduced to her friends. He didn't catch all the names, but figured the chances of his meeting them socially again were pretty slim anyways. As he sat down, Mishti asked everyone to order drinks, and the women ordered cocktails, while the two men ordered beers. When it came to his turn, Arnab ordered a Coke.
'Don't you drink?' asked one of Mishti's friends, an attractive woman called Neha.
'No, actually I don't.'
The guys seemed to enjoy a chuckle at that, but Arnab was thrilled to see Mishti rise to his defence.
'I find it quite refreshing that someone isn't ashamed of saying they don't drink.'
One of the guys, a beefy man called Varun told Arnab he was an investment banker and asked him what he did. His answer was greeted with a look of disbelief.
'A librarian? Really? How do you and Mishti know each other?'
As he was fumbling for an answer, Mishti spoke up.
'He works with my Uncle. Jayantada said he's new in Delhi and doesn't have too many friends here, so I thought he might enjoy going out with us.'
Arnab nodded along and sipped his Coke in silence, but rebuked himself for having been such a fool. How could he have ever imagined that someone like Mishti could have been interested in him? She and her friends belonged to a totally different world, one in which he could never fit in. As he watched the five friends chat and laugh together, he also felt a bit angry. Yes, he was a nobody, and yes, he lived a very ordinary and boring life, but he certainly didn't need Mishti or anyone else to go out with him out of pity. He was happy just the way he was. Mishti's friends seemed to revel in talking about things that were totally alien to the world he belonged to. Varun told them about the huge bonus he had got that year and how he was looking forward to his holiday in Spain. Neha complained about how Delhi discos were just not up there when it came to music compared to what she had seen in Bangalore, while the second male companion, Vivek, talked about how he was being contacted by headhunters about new jobs that would give him a huge jump in salary. Mishti seemed so at ease with them, blending in so seamlessly into their world that Arnab felt truly alone and isolated. What could he possibly talk about that would interest them? Would they really want to know about the missing book he had tracked down, or would his dreams of getting an ordinary government job really impress them? They were the same age as him, but the more they talked about their lifestyles, the more Arnab felt that they had nothing in common, and the more he found himself feeling just how insignificant and boring his life was compared to theirs.
The rest of the evening passed with him being largely a mute spectator to the proceedings or mumbling monosyllabic replies when pushed to make conversation. At about eleven o'clock, everyone decided to call it a night, and as Arnab walked to the door, Mishti caught up with him.
'Arnab, you were really quiet tonight. Is everything okay?'
Arnab replied truthfully, 'I guess I just felt a bit out of place. Your friends are all so articulate, all so qualified, all doing such big jobs…'
Before he could complete, Mishti had put her hand on his arm.
'Oh God, Arnab. Don't ever feel that. You don't need to be anyone else to fit in. Yes, you're so unlike them-you don't drink to fit in, you don't always brag about your designation and salary, you don't always talk about work, but that's what makes you special. That's what makes you Arnab.'
There was such genuine warmth in her voice that Arnab felt almost guilty about how he had felt about her. Still, a part of him was angry at not having been called alone. He realized it was a silly feeling, as he had no basis for expecting such a thing, but then he figured he was only human, and wanting more than one had, or even deserved, was not a capital crime, was it?
Mishti realized that he was still feeling a bit miffed, and she said,
'Arnab, I'm sorry; I had no idea you would feel this way. Look, lemme make it up to you. How about a cup of coffee? Just you and me, no friends, no need to make polite conversation with them.'
Arnab was tempted, but reminded himself of what she had said about calling him because he didn't have friends, and refused the offer, saying he needed to be at work early. Mishti asked him if she could drop him anywhere, as she had driven down in Jayantada's car, but Arnab said that he would be fine. As they were about to part ways, Mishti said,
'Arnab, it was great meeting you. I'll be going back to Bangalore tomorrow, but I do travel to Delhi on work, and I hope we meet again.'
As Arnab walked to the bus stop, he realized he had behaved in a really childish and immature way, but he figured even he was sometimes entitled to having an ego, wasn't he?
***
The next morning when Arnab reached the college he was surprised to find no sign of Jayantada, who had a habit of getting to the library at least an hour before the rest of the college staff. Initially, Arnab had tried to get in earlier to keep pace with his boss, but decided over time to grab the extra hour's sleep every morning when he realized that Jayantada came in early out of habit and didn't really expect him to follow suit. When Jayantada still hadn't shown up by ten, Arnab began to get concerned and called him on his mobile. The phone seemed to ring forever before Jayantada answered, talking in a strangely muffled voice.
'Hello, Arnab?'
'Hi Jayantada. You hadn't come into work so just thought I'd check if everything's okay.'
'Arnab, I can't talk now. I'll call you in ten minutes.'
With that cryptic response, Jayantada hung up, leaving Arnab thoroughly mystified as to what was going on. When his phone rang after about fifteen minutes, Arnab grabbed it and answered after the first ring. It was Jayantada.
'Arnab, sorry, but when you had called the doctor had just come by.'
'The doctor? Jayantada, how are you feeling?'
Jayantada's answer sent a shiver up Arnab's spine.
'It's not me Arnab. It's Mishti.'
When Arnab asked what had happened, Jayantada suggested that he just come by the hospital after work. Arnab certainly couldn't wait that long, and thought that since he could hardly concentrate on his work anyways without knowing what was going on, he somehow pottered around in the library till lunch, and then made a bee line for the hospital, stopping at a flower shop on the way.
When Arnab reached the hospital and tracked down the room Mishti was in, he found Jayantada pacing the corridor outside. He looked up when he saw Arnab approach.
'Good you're here; otherwise I thought I'd go crazy talking to myself. The doctor's in there checking her, so we can't go in for a few minutes. Let's go out for a minute-I need some fresh air.'
As they walked out to the garden outside the ward, Arnab asked Jayantada what had happened. By way of reply, Jayantada asked,
'Mind if I smoke?'
As Jayantada lit up and puffed away, he saw the expression on Arnab's face and took a deep breath,
'Am telling you in a minute. I just need to cool myself down a bit.'
As the two of them walked along the garden, Jayantada started telling Arnab what had happened.
'Mishti had gone to Gurgaon to meet some friends for dinner last night.'
'I know, I was with them', replied Arnab.
'Oh, I didn't know that. Well, after she left, she was still on the highway when a gang of guys in a black SUV started tailing her.'
Arnab felt his stomach tighten involuntarily as he imagined Mishti alone, driving in the dark, being chased by the gang.
'The smartest thing Mishti did was not to stop. She kept driving and it seems the chase went on for several minutes. But when the gang started closing on her, she panicked and lost control of the car.'
Arnab was listening in complete silence as Jayantada continued.
'Luckily, a couple of nearby cars stopped and came to see what had happened, and brought her to hospital. The gang disappeared when they saw others coming to her assistance.'
'How is she, Jayantada?' Arnab asked in a low voice.
Jayantada put an arm around Arnab's shoulder, and Arnab began to appreciate that there was much more to the man than being a cantankerous old librarian.
'Thank God that she is not more seriously hurt than she is. She's fractured an arm and has a few cuts and bruises, but the doctor says she's lucky to be alive.'
Arnab breathed an audible sigh of relief and was about to ask about the gang when the doctor appeared at the door and called for them to come in. When he entered the room, he realized he'd have to wait even longer before he got a chance to talk to Mishti, since she seemed to be giving a statement to a police officer. Mishti was lying on the bed, with her left hand in a sling. Her face had several bandages on it, and her lip was swollen so that when she spoke, the words came out slowly and slightly garbled. She saw Arnab out of the corner of her eye and turned and smiled at him, but even the act of smiling seemed to have hurt as she flinched in pain. The police officer was sitting on a chair by her bed, taking notes in a small pad.
'So Miss Ghosh, how many men were there in the Tata Sumo that was following you?'
Mishti seemed to be searching in her mind for a few seconds before she replied.
'It was dark, and I certainly didn't stop and count, but there were at least three of them.'
The cop wrote that down and asked if she had got a look at any of their faces, but Mishti said that she had not got a close enough look at all their faces.
'But I did notice that the one who was driving was wearing a red bandana around his head.'
The cop took a few more notes and then thanked her. As he left the room, he spotted Jayantada and Arnab and told them that the police were on the case.
'This is the third attack in the last two weeks, and with each attack we are getting more information on them.'
Arnab asked the policeman what the previous attacks had been.
'Same modus operandi. They attack women driving alone at night on the National Highway. Miss Ghosh was very lucky compared to the previous two victims.'
He lowered his voice as if he didn't want Mishti to hear him, 'Both of them were raped and robbed.'
As the policeman left, Arnab and Jayantada approached the bed.
'Mishti, I hope it doesn't hurt too much.'
Arnab realized it was a meaningless thing to say, but he had no idea what he could ask or do. Mishti smiled again at him as he handed her the bunch of Orchids he had bought for her. She motioned for both of them to sit down but Jayantada was visibly agitated and kept walking around the room.
'Bloody animals! It's just not safe for women nowadays in this jungle. I shouldn't have let you go out all alone at night. What will I tell your parents?'
Mishti laid a reassuring hand on the old man's arm.
'Jayantada, I'm not a little girl any more, and who could ever have planned for something like this? Remember you used to always scold me for driving too fast? See that's what saved me yesterday!'
Seeing her smile and be able to still retain her sense of humour made Arnab smile but he realized that seeing her like this was making him angry in a way that he had never been before.
'Mishti, I just wish I had gone with you last night. You wouldn't have been all alone.'
Mishti smiled again at him, and held onto his hands.
'Don't be silly, Arnab, what could you have done?'
Jayantada backed her up by saying, 'Arnab, what can people like us do against such hoodlums? There seems to be no law and order any more-it's just the law of the jungle where might is right.'
As Arnab left the hospital, Mishti and Jayantada's last words kept ringing in his ears. He thought back to what had happened on the bus and to what he had discovered himself capable of at home. As he boarded the bus on the way back to college, he kept thinking of what he could do.
He may not have been there for Mishti the previous night and the old Arnab Bannerjee would certainly have been of no use even if he had been there. Perhaps there was indeed no real law and order to count on but if these goons thought that might was indeed right and that they could always get away with it, he was going to prove them wrong.