an ordinary infantryman in the Army, and with three mouths to feed, I earned barely enough to get by on, let alone cover the cost of training and equipment. Those days, there were no corporate sponsors, no lucrative ad deals and we were at the mercy of the bureaucrats. The Army was supportive, but to really compete at a world-class level, I needed equipment and training that nobody had the money for. I loved boxing, but I had to choose-struggle through it or raise my family. I made my choice.'
Arnab didn't know what to say, so Khan walked up to him and said, 'Yes, I'll teach you. Come here every evening.'
And thus Arnab's training began. He met Khan the next evening after dinner when the old man had closed his shop.
'Khan chacha, I really want to learn the best way to hit someone.'
Khan chuckled at that, 'Boxing isn't just about hitting, it is as much about balance, conditioning and learning to block.'
Arnab couldn't tell Khan what his real agenda and needs were, and that with his speed, blocking wasn't much of a concern, so he asked Khan to at least start teaching him the basic stances and punches.
Khan said that before he learnt to throw a single punch, he would need to learn how to face one. Confident of his speed, Arnab agreed, and began watching the old man's hands, trying to see where the punch would come from. Khan's right hand twitched and Arnab began moving to his left, thinking he would dodge the punch with ease. Just then, the old man's left hand shot out with surprising speed. Arnab was facing the wrong way, still waiting for the right hand that never came, and when he did see the left fist streak out at his chest, he tried turning the other way. Speed was not his undoing, since despite the speed at which the old boxer had shot his fist out Arnab's reflexes would have allowed him to dodge it with ease. What did him in was his lack of balance, as he tripped over his own foot and stumbled onto his back, falling in an ungainly mess to the ground.
Khan held out his hand to help Arnab up.
'You can't guess where a punch is coming from by watching the hands. You need to watch the eyes and the shoulders.'
Suitably chastened, Arnab agreed to learn the way Khan would teach him, and his training began that night. The training session went on late into the night, the old man relishing a return to an art he had once loved and Arnab soaking up his teacher's encyclopaedic experience. He promised to come every night and learn more from the old man.
That Friday, Arnab set out on his next mission, carrying his sweatshirt and gloves in a plastic bag. Soon enough he realized that in a city as vast as Delhi, just setting out randomly in search of crime or people in need of assistance was a stupid strategy. After loitering about for an hour or so, he realized it was pointless, and his enthusiasm deflated, returned home. The lessons with Khan continued every evening, and that Sunday, Arnab met Chintu on the stairwell.
'Hi Chintu, tell me, how do your superheroes know when people need their help.'
Chintu looked up at him as if he were retarded.
'Superman has super-hearing. He flies over the world and hears people. Didn't you know that?'
He didn't, but he did know that possessing neither the power of flight nor super-hearing that was a strategy he couldn't afford to try. Monday morning and he was back in college, and as he entered the library, Jayantada called him over.
'Arnab, is everything all right?'
Arnab didn't know how to react so just nodded in response, but Jayantada wasn't about to let him off the hook so easily.
'You come late to work almost every day, look sleepy and tired all day-I worry about you, my boy. Tell me if I can help in any way.'
Arnab realized that he had been so caught up in his night-time activities that he had totally neglected the rest of his life. He may not have loved his job, but certainly couldn't afford to lose it, so he tried to do some damage control.
'Jayantada, I've been preparing for my exams. I'm sorry; I won't let you down again.'
Jayantada shrugged it off and got back to his newspaper.
'You know, Arnab, this city is going to the dogs. So much crime every single day. There's this new 'Stoneman' they're all writing about. Six people killed in a month and nothing yet, because the dead are all poor pavement dwellers.'
Arnab suddenly got an idea and asked Jayantada for the newspaper. Why hadn't he thought of this earlier? Sitting in the library, newspapers and books surrounded him, and all he had to do to find high-profile cases was to scan the crime pages. He decided to take on the case Jayantada had mentioned. As he looked through the day's papers and scanned old copies, the basics were clear. Someone had been killing pavement dwellers in the Mathura Road area by smashing their heads in with large stones. All the attacks had been late at night, and there had been no progress in the case so far. It was just the kind of opportunity Arnab had been looking for.
That night, Arnab set out to look for this elusive 'Stoneman'.
***
Superman swooped down from the skies faster than a speeding bullet, Batman rode into action in his armoured Batmobile and Spiderman swung down from the nearest building spinning his web. Our superhero rode into battle in a battered old Delhi Transport Corporation bus. He had carried his sweatshirt and gloves in a plastic bag and was still wearing his glasses, as it was still quite bright outside and as far as he had ascertained, his night vision kicked in only when he took off his glasses in darkness. As he sat on the bus, he replayed in his mind all that he knew about the case. The papers had said that all the attacks had happened under flyovers. All the killings had been committed with blocks of stone located near the crime scene, usually left over from construction work. As Arnab reached the area, he walked around looking for a spot where pavement dwellers had gathered. He spotted two groups, about a kilometre apart, one of which seemed to have heavy construction work nearby. He put on his sweatshirt and waited patiently near that group, hiding behind a bus stand. It was a gamble, but he couldn't be in two places at once. As the darkness of night intensified, Arnab took off his glasses, and instantly, he could see everything around him clearly, once again tinged with the shades of green he had started to get accustomed to. With no more than one functioning streetlight within view, he hoped it would give him an edge over whoever this Stoneman might turn out to be. At about midnight, when all the pavement dwellers were fast asleep, he spotted some movement out of the corner of his eye. He watched with bated breath as a small man walked towards the group. He moved quietly in the dark and was largely covered in a dark shawl. To any observer, he could have seemed like just another one of the pavement dwellers. For all Arnab knew, that's what he was, but he decided to watch and wait. As the man neared the group, something totally unexpected happened. He signalled to someone across the road, and two police constables appeared, carrying a large bag. As Arnab watched in horror, they took out a dead body from the bag and placed it on the pavement. The man in the shawl picked up a large stone and brought it down on the corpse's face. Arnab gasped out loud and then realized the men had heard him. One of the constables shouted out, 'Who is there?' Not comprehending what was going on, and not knowing what to do, Arnab raced from the scene at top speed.
The next morning, Arnab picked up the paper to read that the 'Stoneman' had claimed yet another victim. He was perplexed at what was going on, and also frustrated by the fact that his mission had been a failure. He resolved to get to the bottom of the 'Stoneman' mystery, but for that night, he had an idea of someone who could guide him to some action closer to home. Khan had lived in the area for at least two decades, and there was little he didn't know about what was happening in the locality. That evening when he met Khan for his training, Khan told him they would spar to see what he had learnt. As the two of them circled each other and threw punches at each other, Arnab consciously tried to hold back, but even then when his gloved fist connected with Khan's shoulder, the old man winced and laughed.
'You are much stronger than you look, my friend, and you are learning fast.'
Over hot cups of tea, Arnab asked him what was happening in the neighbourhood.
'Times are bad. Ordinary folk have to struggle to just get by, and then you have the crime. Take Chilla village for example. A gang of thugs has been terrorizing people there, attacking shops at night, extorting money and robbing people. The police do nothing because they say the group is led by someone with political connections.'
Arnab considered whether he really wanted to get involved. Part of him told him that it was the right thing to
