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.