My Grandfather Is Superman

By Abhijit Ray

Anvi had never seen her grandfather in flesh and blood, but her mother had always told her that she does not need to see everyone in real life to get inspired by them. But she had already heard numerous stories of her grandfather’s heroics during India’s struggle for independence. Jagjeet Prakash was a freedom fighter, but like many freedom fighters, he had not got his fair share of recognition from the government.

Anvi often thought of her grandfather. Today was one such day, as she was sitting lazily on a Sunday afternoon, debating in her mind whether to take that post-lunch siesta. Her thoughts were interrupted as her cellphone started ringing. The call was from an unknown number.

“Hello,” she said warily.

The voice on the other end was a computerised voice. “Do you want to be famous, or do you want to make someone famous?”, it blabbered on. For some unknown reason, Anvi somehow resisted the urge to cut the call. She heard the whole two minutes of recorded voice. She was used to calls of scammers asking her to send a message to some number or provide some OTP, with promises of a huge cash prize. But this call, it did not make much sense.

What the call said was simple enough: Write a letter to the editor of a particular famous magazine. The letter must contain in the title the words “….. is superman” and must explain what one has done to deserve the fame that one wants. Hence if Anvi wanted to make herself famous, she had to write a letter titled “Anvi is superman.” If the editors liked it, tales of the person’s achievements would appear in that magazine in the leading story section and on TV channels. Of course, a DD of Rs 1000 was also to be attached along with the letter.

Anvi pondered for quite a while. Then it struck her. She would write about her grandfather and about his heroic deeds of pre-independence. Surely, the editors would like it and it would help make her grandfather at least a little famous. She would use up her savings of pocket money she had collected over the years to get that Rs 1000 demand draft. Anything for Grandpa, she thought.

So, the next day, she wrote a long letter, in beautiful handwriting, extolling her grandfather and his gallant role in the Quit India Movement. She explained how after all national leaders were arrested; it was people like the grandfather who kept the movement alive underground. She titled it “My grandfather is Superman.” She even went to the bank to get the DD made, after convincing the teller to accept her 10 and 50 rupee notes.

The next day, she posted the letter.

The wait for the next month edition of the magazine, seemed never ending. The day finally arrived. She ran to the local newspaper store to buy it and then ran back home with the magazine.

She ran to the terrace, away from her family and unpacked the magazine cover. She wanted to surprise her parents. The story was supposed to be on the third page. She opened the third page.

The photo of her grandfather was there, but definitely not in the way she expected. She was expecting a picture of her grandfather and a well written piece on freedom fighter Jagjeet Prakash. Instead there was a full page image of superman in his costume, but the face that was morphed was that of her dear grandfather. How could they do this , she fumed.

Anvi felt cheated. But she froze once she read what else was written on that page : “Never must you fall for scam calls , but fools like the lady Anvi Prakash did”. The next page then detailed how the call was made by the magazine, what the participants were lured into doing to have their story printed, and how Anvi was fooled into parting with a thousand rupees.

Anvi could not stop tears rolling down her face. She shivered at the thought of the whole world mocking her for her gullibility and stupidity. She felt like a small child unboxing her birthday presents only to find the presents empty.

Suddenly, Anvi felt she couldn’t take it anymore.

And then she found her solution. The ledge was just a few feet away. She judged that her problems would be solved once and for all. She climbed over the terrace railing and jumped. She remembered thinking “My grandfather was a superman, but I am a fool. I let him down.”

In the distant, someone was calling her name “Anvi, Anvi”. She tried to look up while in falling. Maybe someone was trying to stop her, but she knew it was too late. She would soon go meet her grandfather. She would tell him sorry for letting him down. She could see the cold concrete floor hurtling towards her. Now Anvi felt she was being shaken. She tried to clutch on to anything, but everything seemed to be slithering away into the distance. Suddenly there was a bright light.

“Wake up, Anvi,” the beautiful face of her mother hovered over her, the afternoon sunlight falling on her face. “You have been sleeping for two hours. Its Sunday, so its fine. Have you been dreaming? Hope your dream was a good one. Come on, get up, Superman, your favourite show is on TV now.”

Anvi smiled, even while she hid the tear sliding down her face.

By Abhijit Ray