‘I have been looking for a record I can break with my hair for some time,’ he said, running his comb through the black waves. ‘I would like to pull a locomotive with my hair but I do not know how to attach myself. I have tried several times with no luck, each time I am removed as soon as I begin walking.’
‘That’s annoying.’
‘It is big frustration to me. Not to worry. Now I am reaching the pinnacle. No other record will compare.’ He inspected the comb’s teeth for foreign bodies, found none, and slipped it back into his pocket. ‘History will not remember you for what you attempted to do, only for what you succeeded in doing.’
I told Bibhuti about the blood on my neck and by the end of it he’d fallen in love with me.
‘You saw me this day?’ Bibhuti asked. ‘When you cut yourself?’
‘Funny, isn’t it. Just by chance, there you were.’
‘This is not chance. Did you know about the cancer at this time?’
‘No idea. That was a few months after. But it’s funny, as soon as I got here I thought to myself, that wouldn’t happen in India. People are kinder here, they wouldn’t let someone go around bleeding all day and not tell him. Maybe that’s what I was looking for, some kindness. Maybe that’s what I was missing all along.’
A now familiar look came over Bibhuti, a light shining suddenly from somewhere inside him. He leoparded to his feet and started stalking the yard, his whole body fizzing with the desire to right the world’s most evident wrongs.
‘You see? Your old life was killing you and that is why you were brought here. You did not come here just to help me, not entirely. God sent you here to be healed. And he gave this job to me. Together we are helping each other. It is the love in our hearts which is the key, this will unlock both our destinies. I am loving you and you are loving me. This is how the pain of the past is erased. This is God’s message to us.’
He was getting loud and the neighbour was amused. He pretended to be hanging the banana skins when I looked his way.
‘We must be loving each other,’ Bibhuti went on. ‘We have both known great struggle. You come to me from across the seven seas and tell me of your pain. I bring you into my home and provide the cure. This is beautiful. Who could predict such a turn-up? I know our friendship has no definition. How it’s evolved I’m clueless. It will become stronger with every passing days.’
He told me to kick him. He said I was ready.
My heart was racing. I felt clumsy and teenage, my legs too heavy to move. I took the sort of breath that was going to keep me alive.
He parted his feet. Jolly Boy sat watching from the top of the stairs, in the puddle his mother’s washing had left. He didn’t know whether to time it or not, and in the end he left his stopwatch to dangle at his chest.
I kicked Bibhuti where he was soft.
I felt something give. Bibhuti grinned at me. His son grinned at me. The afternoon light embraced us all.
‘Again,’ Bibhuti said. ‘You can make it harder.’
I did it again. He was pleased with me and there was no pain.
20. My Bollywood Stint (2002)
I am not an admirer of the Bollywood films as many of my countrymen are. I am too busy in my daily endeavours to know the latest releases. Also the stars of the silver screen are not my favourite role model thanks to their unquenchable thirst for limelight which often leads to immodest behaviours. So it was a great surprise to receive a call from big-time Bollywood producer Kailash Karkera after the news of my four World Record haul had swept through my city. He was very impressed by my achievements and invited me to dinner at the prestigious Taj Hotel to discuss important plans for my future.
I must tell you, walking into that place only a handful of years after arriving like a washed-up coconut on the shore of the Arabian Sea was like a dream coming true for me. This was before sad events of 2008 terror attacks and everything was calm. My wife was very happy to have the door opened for her by the doorkeeper in his red turban and sash and Shubham made us all smile by returning his bow in very respectful manner. Into the lobby and we were surrounded by gold statues and fine fabrics. It was as if we had been invited to the Raja’s palace. Mr Karkera was our introduction to the splendid inner secrets of a world beyond the imagination of a common man from humble country background.
Rajesh Battacharjee the snake who slithered at his feet, but at this time I was still gladly unaware of his intentions.
‘Your story is of great interest to me,’ Mr Karkera said. ‘How a simple man from humble beginnings can find his own way to greatness.’
I allowed his praise to tickle my heart only softly. To receive admiration is not the sportsman’s primary goal.
Mr Karkera had seen my success with the concrete slabs. He asked me how I was able to control the pain. I told him of my methods and to demonstrate I invited him to deliver a kick to my groin. He participated sans delay, giving me a polite kick which only passed by the target area. After grabbing my advice to kick harder he made several further impressions to my groin. The result of a good hit was most pleasing for both of us.
Mr Karkera asked me if I had thought about bringing my talents to a bigger stage. How would I like a place in the film industry?
The idea nearly bowled me over at first glance. I listened carefully to his proposal while inside my mind was spinning like cyclone.
Mr Karkera was of course the producer of many successful action blockbusters with a reputation for creating the most spectacular fight sequences in the business. The stars of these actioners must be toppers in their field with great martial arts skills and onscreen charisma. Although the fight sequences are actually an illusion, with no real contact received, they are created with much care to trick the audience into believing they are seeing real combat spilling from the screen. Mr Karkera picked me as the golden choice for this role. He said my feats in movie would be a boon in helping the common man to enjoy brief respite from a life of hard toil.
I pondered this conclusively. I thought of the common man and his sore need for enjoyment and positive role model in a dark and dusty world. If he could receive this positive standard from the characters I am bringing to life on the screen, then perhaps this was God informing me that my inspiration was reaching a wider area than I imagined hitherto.
I would be relocated to large new apartment in Lokhandwala Complex, home locality of many Bollywood professionals. My performances up on the screen would reflect directly my principles of accuracy and truthfulness to the skills and beliefs of my trade. And salary would be five times more than I ever held in my hands before. It was a dream in the making.
‘This would be a new life for you and your family,’ Mr Karkera said. ‘No more hand to mouth, every comfort you could ask for, and your work would be there for display to millions of your countrymen. How could you turn your back on such an offer?’
My wife gave me a smile which conveyed all her belief that I should accept the gentleman’s offer sans delay. But still I introspected. Each grain of rice I chewed on was a reason either to shun the big-shot lifestyle or to embrace the openings it brought, and my tongue could not sort them apart from each other.
‘I believe BB’s story itself would make a fine film,’ Rajesh Battacharjee declared. ‘Perhaps the right people can be found to bring his biography to life.’
‘This is my area,’ Mr Karkera said. ‘We might have to introduce an element of fiction as well for commercial viability, if this does not offend you?’
‘It would be fine,’ I said. ‘You are the expert on these things.’ And to prove my trust in Mr Karkera I offered him my hand.