A couple of hours later Nakul was back. As he helped Sukhan decorate a tray of rasmalai with slices of pistachio he said thoughtfully, “Badlu must be a real headache, no?”

“Oh, isn’t he! They eat up Rs 50 worth of sweets every time. And they make so much noise that our customers are staying away. Some of the ladies refuse to come in if they see Badlu’s gang inside. No one wants to sit near their table.”

“What will your father do?”

“You know Babuji, he wants peace. He won’t call the police because Badlu has threatened to break my legs if he does so. And the police are hardly any better, anyway. The local constable also eats here for free and everyone says he is Badlu’s friend.”

“Badlu threatens everyone. All the shopkeepers are scared of him. He thinks he is the king of Madanpura. The creep!”

“The first day when I asked them to pay the bill, they broke all the glasses and plates on their table and poured a whole bowl of curd into the drain. Babuji and I haven’t protested after that.”

Nakul popped a pistachio into his mouth and asked, “Have you asked pehelwan for help?”

“PEHELWAN!” Sukhan sat up as if Nakul had given him an electric shock and his eyes shone with excitement. “Why didn’t I think of him before! Let’s go and see him now, Nakul.”

The two boys ran out of the shop and were soon weaving their way through the narrow lanes, dodging cycle rickshaws, ambling cows, goats, hawkers and streams of people. They ran down the steps of the ghat and zipped past the temple and came out into a patch of open land where Kishen Pehelwan’s wrestling akhara stood under an open shed.

The akhara was a huge compound with a banyan tree spreading its branches in the centre. Under an open shed there was a big square patch of soft, dug up earth on which Kishen Pehelwan was busy teaching his students the holds and throws of Indian style wrestling. Some of his chelas were exercising, doing push-ups, twists and bends, some using huge wooden weights to build their muscles and others dangling from ropes hung from the roof.

Kishen Pehelwan was close to six feet tall, with rippling muscles and huge moustaches curling across his broad face. He stood with his hands on his hips watching his students critically, clad in a checked lungi and a sleeveless vest.

“Arrey, nahin!” he said. “Hold his leg and then throw, that’s the real kushti ka daon, the trick of wrestling.” Then, spotting the two boys he smiled, revealing giant, paan-stained teeth and said, “Kya? Want to join the akhara?”

Sukhan dipped down to touch his feet. “Right now we need your help Pehelwanji. Babuji is in serious trouble. And only you can help him.”

Kishen Pehelwan promised to listen to their problem once the morning’s wrestling session was over. Till then, he asked the boys to join his chelas in some exercises and body building. Sukhan decided to do sit-ups while Nakul, after looking around a bit nervously, picked up a skipping rope. After a few minutes both of them were panting so much it made the other boys laugh.

Continued next week

Illustrations: Suman Choudhury