'Man of few words, eh? Well, my friend, do you know what you are?'
Arnab just shook his head, wondering where this conversation was heading.
'You, my friend, are hot property. They say you're a superhero. I say you're the biggest brand name in the country. My research agencies tell me your top of mind recall is higher than Shah Rukh Khan, and you're viewed as being cleaner than Mother Teresa's sari fresh from the laundry.'
He laughed at his own joke, and Arnab still had no idea what he was leading up to.
'So, let me keep it simple. Before you consider any other endorsements, I want you to become the brand ambassador for my new beer brand.'
Arnab was perplexed, and blurted out, 'I don't drink beer.'
Aggarwal grabbed his ample belly with both hands and laughed, bending over with uncontrollable mirth and finally stood, looking at Arnab with amusement twinkling in his eyes.
'My friend, you are priceless. So here's the deal, endorse my beer, and I pay you ten million Rupees a year. My ad people even have a slogan that fits you perfectly-extra strength but with a heart of gold. Wonderful, isn't it?'
Arnab blinked hard. Ten million. He added up the zeroes the number represented. He had never in his wildest dreams imagined such a sum of money. When he remained silent, Aggarwal looked at him and said, 'Not enough? Well, make it twelve, no more.'
When Arnab protested that this wasn't his line of work, Aggarwal brushed away his objections.
'Bollocks, man! Every man has a price, and one with your talents commands a high price. Look at all the Cricket stars on my roster-they sell biscuits, toothpaste and beer-all for money. And they claim to be sportsmen though they earn more from my endorsement contracts than from the sport!'
He laughed and continued, 'They have found their market value and commanded it, now it's your turn. That's the way our system works, my friend. Or did you think you could earn a living beating the crap out of petty criminals? Even superheroes have needs, or do they not?'
Arnab would be lying if he said that he wasn't tempted, but he had never imagined that the night's meeting would involve endorsing a beer brand, and earning millions of Rupees. But something in his mind told him that it wasn't something he was ready for yet. He mumbled, 'I'll think about it.'
Aggarwal sighed and said, 'Okay, have it your way. Here's my card. Call me when you decide.'
As the Mercedes drove away, Arnab wondered where all this was headed. What had started as an act of personal vendetta had become something where he felt he was making a difference and finally counting for something. With the meetings with Sharma and Aggarwal, he began to wonder just how long he would be able to stay the course he had chosen. Fighting criminals had been the easy part, but he was realizing that things were not as black and white as that. When the police were on the wrong side of the law, and the Law Minister in possible cahoots with the criminals, what could one man do? When everything was a commodity to be bought and sold, when it was such common belief that everyone and everything had a price, what could one man do?
Perhaps Upadhyay had been right after all.
EIGHT
Through the day, Arnab kept glancing at Aggarwal's card, wondering what it must be like to be someone who could spend more than ten million Rupees just on a whim. Then he reminded himself that part of the problem was that there were people like Aggarwal, Singh and Upadhyay-people who had the money, influence or power to make a difference, but they chose to not look beyond their own self-interest and short-term gain. As he thought about it, he had to admit that his own motives were not purely altruistic. Yes, he did want to help people, but part of him kept going because it gave him a sense of purpose, a sense of destiny and importance that he had never even come close to experiencing in his life till now. It was that same part of him that kept whispering into his ears to call Aggarwal. He could still go on doing what he had been doing, and if he earned some money on top of that, it wasn't wrong, was it?
Jayantada noticed Arnab sitting in a corner and came over to sit by his side.
'What are you thinking about?'
Arnab would have lied and got on with his work, but not having anyone else to confide in, he opened up to Jayantada.
'I was thinking about money. You know, I had never thought I'd be very rich, but how does one know if one is rich enough?'
Jayantada smiled, 'Ah, money. Which young man has not thought about that? If money is all you want, no matter how much you have, it will never be enough. But here's some free advice from an old man. If you can have a home to call your own, can provide for your family, and have enough left over to buy the occasional surprise gift or dinner out for your wife, then you have enough.'
Jayantada laughed and went back to work, leaving Arnab thinking about his words. Arnab did not get much time to ponder Aggarwal's offer as his phone soon buzzed with a new message from P.C Sharma, asking for a meeting that night.
Arnab had no idea what Sharma wanted and would have refused but Sharma sent him four more messages pleading with him to meet, saying that the Honourable Minister wanted to clear up matters between him and the police. That got Arnab's attention. It was true that Upadhyay was a crook, but breaking the arm of the Deputy Commissioner of Police and sending half dozen constables in uniform to hospital was bound to have consequences. If nothing else, pissing off the cops and being wanted for assaulting them could make it very difficult for him to operate openly again. He had been wondering what shape and form Upadhyay's retribution would take, so he was glad that Sharma and the Minister seemed to be offering him a way out.
When Arnab reached a deserted alley behind Khan Market, which had been the agreed meeting spot, he found Sharma and another man waiting for him. Arnab had never seen him before, but assumed he was another one of the Minister's toadies, since he was dressed in a safari suit like Sharma. As Sharma and Arnab acknowledged each other, Sharma's companion kept silent, holding onto a large suitcase with both hands.
'So Mr Sharma, what does your Minister want?'
Sharma took out a cigarette and lit it up. Unlike their previous meeting, he betrayed no sense of nervousness, and displayed a smug smile that told Arnab who was in control of the situation.
'My young friend, its not what the Minister wants, but it's what you should want.'
When Arnab asked him what he meant, Sharma took out a mobile phone and dialled a number, handing it over to Arnab after a second. Arnab heard a familiar voice at the other end.
'Hello, I hope our superhero is doing well and has time left over to fight criminals in addition to beating up my policemen.'
It was Balwant Singh.
'Sir, I hope you know what DCP Upadhyay is up to…'
Singh interrupted him, 'It has come to my notice and I have asked for him to be disciplined. See what happens when good people get carried away? A bit like you and your attack on the police.'
Minister or no minister, Arnab was getting tired of being blamed for things that were not of his making, and he began to protest when Singh stopped him again.
'Look, you and Upadhyay had a fight, and I don't want to interfere like a father when two children squabble. Each one will claim the other was to blame. I'm not interested in who was to blame; I just want to make sure that this ends. As I said, Upadhyay will be disciplined. But that leaves you.'
'What do you mean by that?'
The Minister laughed, but his tone seemed more sinister than funny.
'You have made some powerful enemies, and Upadhyay likes his Sunday golf sessions, you see. With his fracture, now he won't be able to play for weeks, and he's itching to shoot you dead. I've tried to reason with him, but it's hard to control someone as hot-tempered as him.'