Turbulence (18 page)

“We don’t have any of those,” Aman says. “I’m sorry, but there’s just us.”

Namrata splutters and sprays coffee on the table.

“Yup,” Aman says.

“No, no,” Namrata recovers smoothly, “I wasn’t saying you aren’t a man because you aren’t strong.”

“Thanks.”

“And, hey, who needs men to protect you anyway, right? What I want to know is: why did the girls get such girlie powers?”

“Well, if you wanted to be super-strong, Namrata, you should have dreamt of being super-strong,” Tia says. “I’m perfectly satisfied with my power.”

“It’s just stupid that I’m a superhero and I’m wishing some dude in a cape were around to save me, that’s all. Is it weird that I felt, like, less helpless before I had superpowers?”

Tia leans forward, and when she speaks, she sounds annoyed.

“Namrata, there were four hundred people on that plane. Around half of them were women. A lot of them were from Delhi. Your office is in Delhi, right? You know what it’s like. I’m sure there were lots of women on that plane who wanted very badly to be able to go where they pleased, when they pleased, and wear what they wanted in Delhi without feeling threatened. It’s quite possible that some of them are super-strong. But it didn’t have to be the most important thing in their lives, did it?”

“You’re obviously not from Delhi,” Namrata says. “Are there any women like that, though?”

“I have no idea,” Tia replies. “If there are, I wish they were here. They could be with Jai, in Kashmir, hiding anywhere in the world, or dead. We’re the only ones we know of apart from you. I mean, there are a few more, but no one like Jai.”

“Maybe you picked the wrong side,” Aman says.

“I said it wrong,” Namrata says. “Sorry, I assumed that there were more of you. I didn’t realise that when you were offering coffee, you were being honest. That I could, you know, feel safe again.”

“Well, you’re not safe,” Tia says. “No one is.”

Namrata stares around the table, her face quivering with something akin to excitement.

“What now, people? Do you want me to get in touch with DNNTV’s costume department? Do we form a superhero team? Start a reality show? What? Truth, justice, the Indian way?”

“I’m British-Pakistani,” Uzma says. “I keep having to tell people this.”

“You should be the leader, everyone likes you,” Namrata continues, loudly draining her glass of cold coffee. “Tia’s like the secret agent James Bond girl who finds out clues and gets captured. Aman’s the tech guy who sits with the computers.”

“Thanks,” Aman says.

“I’d be the one the audiences can relate to. I think it’s a very cool idea.”

“We’re not forming a superhero team,” Uzma says. “It’s a ridiculous idea. We’re going to find a way to stop Jai from killing us, and then we’re going our separate ways.”

“Which brings us to the real question,” Aman says. “We don’t know how to stop Jai. You’ve seen him in action at close quarters. Have you — okay, this sounds stupid — have you noticed any weaknesses?”

“Do you think it would work if I did a story?” Namrata asks. “What if I did this really big feature about all of us, just coming out to the whole world?”

“How on earth would that help?” Tia asks. “Jai hunting us isn’t bad enough? You want the whole world to join him?”

“Coming out of the superhero closet isn’t really an option,” Aman says. “And there’s no telling how Jai would respond to it — in any case, we don’t even know what he really wants.”

“Wait, so he’s not just an evil maniac planning to kill all other superheroes and take over the world?” Namrata asks. “There goes that set of interview questions, then.”

“So far all we know is that he likes capturing and killing other powered people,” Aman says. “He’s clearly the leader of a team, but what do they want? And there really isn’t much point telling the police or the army about him, is there?”

“I really don’t want anyone to know anything more than they already do,” Uzma adds. “It’s not just us — we all have families, friends. Aman, I know you’ve done all sorts of things with databases, but no one really uses records to find people here anyway, do they? I don’t want my family to get into any more trouble.”

“And to be fair to Jai, he’s not gone after anyone’s families to get to them so far,” Tia says.

“He killed that Baby Kalki’s parents,” Namrata points out.

“They were on the plane too,” Aman says. “They were on his list anyway.”

“He’s lucky to have such faithful friends,” Namrata snaps.

“I’m not justifying anything he’s done,” Aman says. “I’m just saying that revealing what happened on that plane is not something we can just randomly decide to do. It’ll affect a lot of people.”

“What about Jai’s family?” Tia asks. “Can’t we go talk to his parents or something? Get them to persuade their son to be nice? Where do they live?”

“London. His sister’s married to a doctor there.” Aman laughs. “You know, as stupid as that sounds, it’s actually better than anything I’ve come up with. He’s an Indian man — we should get his mother to talk to him.”

“We should kidnap his parents and say we’ll kill them if he doesn’t turn himself in,” Namrata announces. She looks around the table triumphantly. A set of bewildered faces peers back at her. “What? No?”

“We can’t kidnap his parents!” Uzma cannot believe she’s saying these words and they’re not from a script.

“Why not?” Namrata demands.

“It’s not — it’s not a superhero sort of thing to do,” Aman says.

“Why not?” Namrata’s eyes are blazing. “Who made the rules? Who do we have to answer to? We should at least think about it.”

“No,” Aman says. “We’re not doing anything of the kind.”

“He said he would kill me if I didn’t lead him to you. He said he knew where I lived, who my family and friends are,” Namrata says. She drums the table with her fingers. “I think you might need to stop worrying about what might be seen as acceptable behaviour in a comic book, because there are other people who won’t follow those rules. Fine, I wasn’t totally serious about kidnapping Jai’s parents, but if he’s setting out to kill other powerful people — not just powered people, but, I don’t know, people in the army or something — other people are going to be looking for ways to hurt him. His family is an obvious target. Bad things are going to happen to them. Maybe that’s why Jai goes to London.”

“What do you mean, Jai goes to London?” Tia asks.

“You guys aren’t the only ones who know more than they seem to,” Namrata says. “I had a vision — when Jai attacked me in the press box. I saw him running through a London street, covered in blood. I wasn’t sure it was London — could have
been, like, anywhere in England, actually — but it was definitely him, and he was screaming. The streets were full of people. Dead people and burning cars. Whether or not his family has anything to do with it, Jai’s going to London, and he’s going to be fairly pissed off.”

The others sit looking at one another, struggling to find words, trying to understand what they’ve just heard.

It’s Aman who breaks the silence in the end.

“Your visions — they’re possible futures, right? We can change them with our actions, can’t we?”

“I don’t think so,” Namrata says. “All of them have come true so far.”

Uzma, who has spent the last few minutes staring vacantly at a TV screen where two children in spangled costumes are gyrating wildly in some grotesque dance contest, snaps out of her stupor, draws her chair forwards and glares around the table.

“I don’t understand how we can just sit here talking about all this,” she says. “So much has happened, so many people’s lives have already changed. Horse-headed babies, tiger-headed men on live TV, billions of dollars stolen from all over the world, mobs and explosions and murders — why hasn’t the world gone crazy yet? How can all these people just sit here and drink coffee and talk about movie deals? Why aren’t they worried?”

“Uzma, just three days ago you were thinking about ignoring this and carrying on as if nothing had happened,” Tia says. “It’s just the way people are.”

“We’re used to ignoring the terrible things right in front of us,” Namrata says. “I work in news — I get to see what’s happening, at least what’s reported. We decide what goes on air based simply on what people want to see, not what they need
to know. We’re entertainers, not educators. There must have been a hundred reports of, like, weird people cropping up all over the country, missing-person reports about all those Brits Jai abducted. They’re not interesting. They’re not stories. None of it is real.”

“You’re over-simplifying. Or maybe I just don’t understand,” Uzma says. She seems close to tears. Tia places a comforting hand on her arm, but Uzma shrugs it off.

Namrata looks hard as Uzma, and when she speaks again, her voice is low and gentle.

“It’s the way we live now, don’t you see? Nothing’s real — not poverty, not the high life, not terrorists, nothing. It’s all just stuff that happens on TV, and you can always, like, change the channel? It’s not like you can believe what TV tells you anyway. The internet just makes it worse. And that’s what gets me, you know? No one cares. Bombs go off all the time, in every city. Across the country, people die; everyone is sad for like a few seconds, and then flicks the remote.”

“Well, maybe your powers can help change that,” Aman says.

“Change what? The world could end tomorrow and no one would notice if
Indian Idol
was on at the same time. You know what made me decide to become a journalist? There were these attacks on Parliament, I was switching channels, and I saw this on the news — and I switched to a
Grey’s Anatomy
rerun. I felt so bad. I wanted to make a difference, to make people see what was important, to make them care and get mad about the way the world is. Because no one cares now — they don’t even notice. Not that I’ve managed to do anything of the sort so far. I just read out pieces to camera written by morons in Delhi who all got
jobs because their parents are friends of the DNNTV owners.”

“Wow,” Tia says after another long pause. “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought you were a complete bimbo when I saw you on TV but I don’t any more. And I think I speak for everyone here.”

Namrata smiles wryly. “Thanks?”

Aman’s phone rings. He walks out of the cafe, talking hurriedly.

“Why does he carry a phone if he can take calls in his head?” Namrata asks Uzma.

“Habit, I guess,” Uzma replies.

When Aman returns, he can barely contain his excitement.

“That was Tia.”

“Did we find Jai?” Tia asks.

“Better,” Aman says. “Namrata, your protection has arrived. We have some muscle on our side. We found Vir. She’s bringing him home.”

“Who’s Vir?” Namrata asks.

“The guy you hoped we had back home,” Uzma says. “The strong guy.”

“Handsome flying muscle-man. Great kisser,” Tia says, and blushes.

“She — you — she said something’s wrong with him,” Aman says. “Vir was just sitting around outside the Coffee Day at Carter Road, waiting. He said he was hoping one of us would see him there. He didn’t recognise Tia at first, but when she told him who she was under her dirty makeup, she said he looked so happy he almost cried. He’s been injured — apparently he had to dig himself out from under a mountain. Thinks he’s lost his powers.”

“Are you sure we should bring him home?” Uzma asks. “I mean, you don’t really know whose side he’s on, do you?”

“Well, if Jai dropped a mountain on him, I’m willing to bet he’s feeling fairly sympathetic towards us now,” Aman says.

“Also, we don’t want him hanging around Mumbai waiting for Jai to kill him, especially if he’s weak,” Tia adds. “Most importantly, I want to see him.”

At this, a look passes between Aman and Tia.

Uzma shrugs. “Fine by me. I wished I’d met him last time, anyway.”

Tia rises and places a gentle hand on Namrata’s shoulder.

“It was lovely meeting you, darling,” she says, “but we really have to go now.”

“Are you kidding? I’m coming too!” There’s a martial light in Namrata’s eyes. “I figured you don’t want to tell me where you live, but do you really think I’m going anywhere else now? When I know that maniac is looking for me and you’ve got some strong flying man to protect you? You can, like, think again!”

“There is that empty room on my floor,” Uzma says. “And Vir could share with Tia if he’s staying, couldn’t he?”

Tia smacks her, and good humour is restored.

“But maybe it’s safer if you’re not with us, Namrata,” Aman says. “Safer for you, that is. Jai needs you alive, but he might lose it completely if he finds you with us. It might be better if you went along with this — brought Jai down from the inside in some way.”

“Were you even there at the stadium? Didn’t you see what I went through? I’m coming, and that’s final,” Namrata says. “You think I’m going to go back to work after this? You think anything can be normal again? I’m staying with you. I can pay you, if you like.”

Tia drives them back to the Yari Road house at the speed of a
hurricane, almost killing several people along the way. They tear inside to find two Tias perched on the sofa, solicitously rubbing pain-relief ointment all over a semi-conscious and semi-clad Vir.

Aman’s growing irritation is tempered by an undeniable sense of relief at the sight of Vir, and the knowledge that the only person potentially capable of dealing with Jai Mathur and his tiger-headed friends is now sitting in his house. Tia gently awakens Vir, and as he stares at them, his face blank, Aman’s bubble of new-found confidence explodes with an almost audible pop. Something’s very wrong with Vir. Namrata steps forward, a million questions queuing up on her lips, but Aman stops her.

He sits next to Vir and asks, “What happened to you?”

Vir smiles bravely, then winces as some unseen pain grips him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “My mind’s a bit scrambled. It’s been a difficult few days, and I’m so tired. But there are so many things I need to tell you. Is everyone here?”

Aman looks at a Tia on the couch, who says, “Bob and the Scientist are upstairs.”

“Should I call them?” Aman asks Vir.

“No, that’s all right. I just wanted to make sure that none of your team were missing. There’s been a new development. I have to show you.”