As one of the constables lying in ambush yawned, Arnab made his move.
He sprinted at the man, grabbing his neck in a vice like grip from behind, putting just enough pressure that the man passed out. Khan would have been proud to see how well his student his learnt some of the new moves he had taught. Upadhyay and the others saw nothing, but felt a sudden gust, which they must have thought was just the wind blowing. Again Arnab waited. The second constable on the other side of the road stretched, putting his rifle on the floor for a second. Arnab picked up a rock from the roadside and hurled it with all his strength at the car the constable was standing behind. With Arnab's strength behind it, the rock hit the car with an impact that might have been more appropriate had it been struck by a rocket. It rocked back, its windows shattering and sending the constable behind it scrambling for cover as he was showered with shards of glass. Cut and bleeding, he lay moaning on the ground. Upadhyay and his men whirled around to see what had happened, unable to see much in the darkness. And then Arnab moved again. He cut through the five constables like a scythe, catching them from behind, and in a matter of seconds, all five were lying unconscious on the ground.
That left just Upadhyay.
Upadhyay tried to bring his revolver up but Arnab grabbed his wrist and took the gun from him, flinging it to the side of the road. Upadhyay faced Arnab with a smile on his face, but Arnab could see the policeman's hands were shaking slightly.
'So you survived. Fucking ghost.'
As Upadhyay spoke, his voice quavered a bit, and Arnab thought he could see fear in his eyes. Arnab said nothing, but just began to slowly walk around the DCP.
'What do you want?' Upadhyay was now screaming at him. Arnab said nothing.
'Do you want revenge for what I did to you?' demanded Upadhyay.
Then Arnab spoke for the first time that evening.
'No, I want justice for those you've killed.'
Upadhyay looked at him for a moment and then sniggered.
'Fool. If you wanted to kill me, it would be simpler. There is no justice to be had here, not for some dead nobodies.'
His words made Arnab's blood boil, but he remembered Khan's words. Don't act in anger.
'I want you to confess to what you did and face the consequences. Unlike you, I am not a killer, which is why you and your men are still alive.'
Upadhyay took out a cigarette from his pocket, and as he brought it up to his mouth, it slipped to the ground. When he bent down to pick it up, he plucked a hidden pistol from an ankle holster and brought it up, firing at Arnab. Arnab had been watching his every move, and as he saw Upadhyay raise the gun and fire, he stepped out of the way of the bullet. Upadhyay looked at him with disbelief, and was about to pull the trigger again, when Arnab rushed at him, grabbing his hand and forcing it back so hard, he heard the bones snap. Upadhyay screamed in agony and fell to the ground, his right arm dangling at his side like that of a doll that has suffered at the hands of an angry child.
Before Arnab could say anything else, sirens rent the air. The injured constable by the car had radioed for reinforcements, and as Arnab watched, four armoured cars sped into the area. These were odds even he could not face, and as he began to leave, he looked at Upadhyay again. He was clearly in pain, but had a triumphant look on his face.
'You cannot win. You are but one man.'
When Arnab reached home, he sat and reflected on what had happened over the past few days. His mission against Upadhyay and his men had, he realized, in part been the result of his seeking revenge for what they had done to him. However, he also realized that something in him had changed. He could no longer just walk away or turn the other eye when confronted with the corrupt system that someone like Upadhyay represented. He thought back to Upadhyay's words and realized that he didn't really care if he won or not, but he would make damned sure that people like Upadhyay weren't going to get away with it all the time.
***
While the rest of Delhi partied away into the wee hours on New Year's Eve, Arnab was hard at work. He worked tirelessly till dawn, ensuring safe passage for women, sorting out drunken revellers looking for trouble, and in one case, helping a drunken Bollywood starlet out of the car she had crashed. But he reserved his best for a two drunk young men in a jeep, who had run over a pavement dweller and were trying to race away to their farmhouse on the outskirts. Arnab had caught up with them, soundly thrashed them, and then dropped them in front of the Police Commissioner's house, after having divested them of their clothes. Naked, bleeding and freezing, the two upstarts, one of them the son of a Cabinet Minister, made for a great first page photo.
The next morning's papers were full of stories about the Guardian Angel's explosive comeback, and of how it been the most crime-free and safest New Year's Eve in living memory. But Arnab allowed himself no satisfaction at the night's events, or the humiliation he had heaped on Upadhyay. At best, he had won one more skirmish in what would be a long war, one whose end even he could not see.
As Arnab walked into college the next day, he met Jayantada who warmly wished him a happy new year. The old man was much chirpier than usual, and Arnab asked him what he had been up to.
'Arnab, you won't believe how happy I am today. I think Mishti is finally going to get married. One of her friends proposed to her….'
Arnab didn't hear the rest of the sentence but pretended to busy himself in his work, thinking again just how unfair life was. When he got home and installed his second SIM card, he saw a message waiting for him.
His fame had clearly attracted another suitor. He had received a message to meet the next day to discuss a 'business proposal'. He had half a mind to refuse, but then his new contact sent a follow up message pleading with him not to refuse as he was coming all the way from Bangalore to meet him. Arnab asked him to come to the car park opposite Pragati Maidan, which he had mentally begun to think as his venue for strange meetings, and the next night, waited for his contact, wary that it could be a trap sprung by Upadhyay. This time, it was not an armoured car, but a chauffeur driven Mercedes that pulled into the car park. Arnab could scarcely believe his eyes when he saw the man who emerged out of the car.
It was a face that he had seen innumerable times on the cover of magazines and in newspapers, and being interviewed on television. The same salt and pepper beard, the same flashy bracelets, and the same trademark paunch. Standing just a few feet away from him was Pravin Aggarwal, the owner of Woodpecker enterprises, and one of the richest men in India. Arnab wondered what a billionaire businessman could want with him, so he stepped out behind Aggarwal and gently cleared his throat to catch his attention.
'Oh, there you are! My, you aren't as big as they say you are.'
Aggarwal spoke in the forced American accent he was known for, and which Arnab had found funny while watching him from behind the anonymity of a TV screen, but now facing him in the flesh, he had to admit he felt intimidated. Aggarwal was known to be flashy, brash and aggressive, and lived a lifestyle that would have done movie stars proud, complete with rumours of affairs with starlets and jaunts in exotic locales.