That night his area of patrol was in Malviya Nagar, where robbers had been striking almost every night, breaking into houses and robbing the occupants at gunpoint. Arnab spent a good two hours patrolling the area, and then at about midnight, he saw three men walking in one of the alleys. There was no indication that they were the robbers, but he decided to follow them to be sure. He maintained a safe distance, following them as they walked along the narrow alleys. After a few minutes, they came to a stop near a house and sat down on the stairs in front of it, one of them lighting a cigarette and passing it around. Arnab was now quite suspicious, and assuming that they were planning a robbery, stepped out in front of them. He had no wish to provoke a confrontation, but assumed that if they were robbers, the mere sight of him would send them packing. To his surprise, one of them, a young man barely out of his teens, looked up calmly at him and asked him what he was doing there.
'I should be asking you what you're doing out so late sitting in front of this house.'
The man didn't flinch as he replied.
'Ah, so our superhero has found time from rigging elections to fight crime.'
The other two men laughed, and Arnab was tempted to teach the man some manners but held himself back. The man showed no such signs of restraint as he continued.
'Look, asshole, this is my house and I've just come home from a party. Do you want to ring the bell and ask my parents?'
Arnab didn't know if the man was bluffing or not, but he got an answer when the door opened and an older man stepped out.
'Rajiv, what's going on?'
'Nothing dad, our superhero here thought we're robbers.'
The father told him to be quiet and turned to Arnab.
'Don't mind my son. The young nowadays speak before they think. Thank you for what you're doing, but there are no robbers here, just a young man who's going to get into trouble for being so late.'
He smiled as he led his son in, and the two other men walked off, muttering among themselves. Arnab thought he heard one of them say, 'Superhero, my ass.'
It was a small incident, but actually hearing and seeing for himself how people's attitudes towards him were changing so fast came as a real shock to him. The next night only made matters worse when an old woman he had rescued from a mugger shook his hands off, looking at him and saying in a sad voice,
'Son, I thank you for saving me, but you've dashed a lot of hopes with what you have done. Please leave the company of these politicians and their dirty business.'
Arnab tried to say something in his defence, but realized it was futile. Things got only worse when the next day, a prominent businessman issued a statement that he believed the so called Guardian Angel was sabotaging his business interests by attacking his trucks at night, presumably because he had been paid to do so by business rivals. There was no proof offered, and even a cursory background check would have shown that the businessman was a key contributor to Balwant Singh's election campaign, but as often happens, the facts got lost in the hysteria and this provided even more fodder to news channels revelling in Arnab's fall from grace. The new 'Superhero Scandal' became the talk of the town, and in the rush to crucify the one who had till recently been the darling of the masses, everyone conveniently forgot all the things that he had done.
Arnab by now had descended into a full-fledged depression, and realized that no matter how strong he was; he knew little about such machinations and how to respond to them. Balwant Singh had truly extracted a terrible revenge, and Arnab felt alone and helpless. Khan was there to lend a sympathetic ear, but the old man could do little to help. The next night was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. Arnab had intervened in an attempted robbery just after sunset, and while the robbers had melted away when they saw him, Arnab found himself confronted by an angry mob consisting of those whom he had thought he was rescuing. They shouted abuses at him, and one of them threw a pair of shoes at him. Arnab was taken aback, and not knowing how to react, ran home, the jeers and insults of the crowd ringing in his ears.
He spent an agonizing night thinking about his situation. He had finally found something he could remotely think of as a mission for his life-something that gave him a sense of purpose and made him feel like he was more than just another anonymous middle-class boy running in the rat race to earn a livelihood. That seemed like a distant dream now-all of it having been destroyed in one fell swoop.
How naïve had he been! Upadhyay and Balwant Singh had been proven right after all. One man, no matter how strong or no matter what superpowers he was endowed with, could do little to change the rot and corruption in the system they had created and ruled over. Arnab felt that perhaps he had just let his powers go to his head, and led himself to believe that he could challenge the likes of Balwant Singh and get away with it. Now he knew better. Then Arnab thought about how fickle public opinion was. Mindless drones! One day they were worshipping him, and the next they were throwing shoes at him! No wonder people like Balwant Singh could mess with their minds so easily. Perhaps it was true that people got the system they deserved-and why should he destroy his life trying to help those who couldn't even see who was really on their side?
Arnab's phone buzzed. It was a message from Aggarwal.
'Like I said, every man has his price. I would have paid better, and you wouldn't have got so much negative press. Too bad you didn't take my offer.'
Arnab flung his phone into a corner. He lay down on his bed again and closed his eyes, but there was little sleep to be had that night.
***
Arnab reached work the next morning and saw Jayantada tut-tutting to himself as he read the newspaper. He looked up at Arnab as he entered the library.
'Seen this superhero business? What a shame.'
By now Arnab had seen and heard enough to not react to one more dig at him, and he looked at Jayantada and said,
'Jayantada, this is no time or place for heroes.'
'You can say that again. By the way, Arnab, what happened to the exams you were planning to write?'
Arnab had been mentally kicking himself all the way to work that morning. He had been so carried away in his new life that he had totally neglected what had once been of utmost importance to him. The bank exams were in just a week's time and he was woefully unprepared. But then he had resolved that he was going to get his life back on track. He had forgotten who he was and what he had to do, so lost had he been in his delusions of grandeur. He was no superhero, and he would keep his accursed abilities a secret. He would get back to being just good old Arnab Bannerjee. He replied to Jayantada,
'One of the exams is next week. Jayantada, do you mind if I just stay a bit late in the library and study? I'll lock on the way out.'
'No problems. Best of luck.'
For the next few days, there were no nocturnal missions, no training sessions at Khan's place and no more run-ins with goons, in uniform or otherwise. Arnab hit the books with a vengeance, studying for more than a dozen hours a day. He would come into work early, and stay back late till six or seven in the evening, studying in the deserted library. Once back home, he would again immerse himself in his books. It was difficult to totally forget all he had been through, and he did have some lasting regrets-like the way things had turned out with Mishti, but Arnab decided that the only way to deal with what had happened was to forget the events of the last few months as if they had been no more than a dream, and to get on with his life.