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.
As he neared the restaurant, he realized that he had not even thought about his strange experiences of the previous evening and that morning even once. He decided that was a good thing, as the prospect of meeting Mishti for dinner seemed a decidedly better way to spend the weekend than discovering that he was turning into some kind of freak.
He stepped into the restaurant, scanning the tables for Mishti. While he tried to project an attitude of casual nonchalance, he was sure Mishti would notice how nervous he was. His heart beating ever faster as he looked around the restaurant, Arnab finally caught a glimpse of Mishti.
Then he froze.
She was there all right, but with her were four other people-two women and two men. Mishti still had not seen him, so he took in the scene before him in silence. Mishti and her companions were all wearing expensive clothes of the sort that Arnab would occasionally stare at in malls but never really contemplate owning, and made Arnab's attempts at dressing up look woefully inadequate. His visions of a romantic dinner date already crushed, he thought about it for a second, and then quickly deposited the flowers in a nearby garbage can. By now Mishti had seen him and was waving him over. As he approached the table and awkwardly greeted everyone, he was introduced to her friends. He didn't catch all the names, but figured the chances of his meeting them socially again were pretty slim anyways. As he sat down, Mishti asked everyone to order drinks, and the women ordered cocktails, while the two men ordered beers. When it came to his turn, Arnab ordered a Coke.
'Don't you drink?' asked one of Mishti's friends, an attractive woman called Neha.
'No, actually I don't.'
The guys seemed to enjoy a chuckle at that, but Arnab was thrilled to see Mishti rise to his defence.
'I find it quite refreshing that someone isn't ashamed of saying they don't drink.'
One of the guys, a beefy man called Varun told Arnab he was an investment banker and asked him what he did. His answer was greeted with a look of disbelief.
'A librarian? Really? How do you and Mishti know each other?'
As he was fumbling for an answer, Mishti spoke up.
'He works with my Uncle. Jayantada said he's new in Delhi and doesn't have too many friends here, so I thought he might enjoy going out with us.'
Arnab nodded along and sipped his Coke in silence, but rebuked himself for having been such a fool. How could he have ever imagined that someone like Mishti could have been interested in him? She and her friends belonged to a totally different world, one in which he could never fit in. As he watched the five friends chat and laugh together, he also felt a bit angry. Yes, he was a nobody, and yes, he lived a very ordinary and boring life, but
