Chapter 2: The First Escape

Right now, I needed all the luck I could get.

Five hundred metres ahead, someone was blocking the road. A group of burly men with walkie-talkies were stationed at the north end of Laxmi Avenue, stopping every man about my age and height, holding up their phones to compare faces with the viral photo. Many passers-by were annoyed but, seeing their size, kept quiet. Most wore vests and shorts, showing off huge muscles—probably the gym wale from upstairs. Compared to them, I looked like a stray dog.

Any one of them could pin me down. But at this point, there was no turning back. They were only ten metres apart—no need for radios, really. The fact that they had them meant someone was watching from above. If I turned around now, I’d be spotted instantly.

Thoughts raced through my mind. I slowed a bit but kept moving, angling slightly to the left. Even that subtle shift drew attention—one of the men picked up his radio and tiptoed to get a better look. Luckily, there were still several hundred metres between us. He squinted, trying to make me out. At this distance, I was just another face. I’d also ditched the jacket I wore in the CCTV footage.

He didn’t shout, not wanting to alert me, but called over a buddy. The two of them, one on each side, started closing in from behind. I pretended not to notice, and with a wide grin, called out:

"Bhaiya, didi, sona kharidoge kya? Special couple offer hai, aaj ke liye."

The college girl’s eyes sparkled with gossip, not malice. The kirana uncle’s lips pressed tight, as if holding back a secret. The couple on the bench looked startled. "Gold? No, thanks. We’re not buying."

They were a young man and woman, maybe twenty, sitting side by side, each clutching an empty cup of cold coffee, sneaking shy glances at each other. First love, awkward phase, first date. A pair like this would be too embarrassed to check their phones mid-date. They probably hadn’t seen the billionaire’s livestream. More importantly, the boy was about my build, and his jacket was similar.

And magic is all about light, angles, and timing. I grinned. "Not selling gold. It’s our jewellery store’s anniversary—couples’ challenge chal raha hai. Would you two like to join?" The jewellery store was three or four hundred metres down the street. I lied smoothly: "If the guy can run from here to the store entrance in under ninety seconds, the lady gets a gold ring as a souvenir."

"Really?" They were sceptical. Gold’s expensive these days—this sounded too generous. Seeing that gold alone didn’t tempt them, I had to appeal to love. I took out a gold ring from my pocket and handed it to the boy, hinting for him to put it on the girl.

It was just a cheap imitation, a prop worth a few rupees. But both of them blushed instantly, trembling as he slipped it onto her finger. She ducked her head, hiding behind her dupatta, her bangles jangling as she tried to stifle a laugh. The boy’s hands were shaking so much he nearly dropped the ring. The air between them was thick with the scent of cold coffee and hope. In a city like Mumbai, even tiny moments like this sparkle brighter than gold.

"There, the ring looks great on you. Bhaiya, sure you don’t want to try? If you don’t, I’ll have to take it back."

The girl whispered, "...I want it."

The boy, completely under the spell, nodded. Out of the corner of my eye, the two musclemen were closing in, less than a hundred metres away.

My palms were slick with sweat. I wiped them on my jeans, glancing at the chaiwala’s cart, wishing I could disappear in the steam. I made a snap decision, hit the timer: "The challenge starts—run!"

The boy jumped up, startled, and sprinted off in the opposite direction, weaving through the crowd like the wind. All eyes turned to watch him go. He moved so fast, all you could see was the tail of his coat.

"After him!"

The two musclemen instantly turned and chased the boy. The girl, startled, asked, "Why are you chasing him? Is this part of your jewellery store’s event?"

A few seconds passed. No answer. She turned around and realised I—who was supposed to be timing—had vanished without a trace.

If anyone had been watching closely, they’d have seen the magician’s classic move: a brief pause, a flicker in the crowd, and then—gone, like a coin slipping between the fingers. It was the sort of moment old uncles in the colony would later exaggerate over chai: "Beta, I saw him disappear right in front of my eyes! Aisa jadoo, I tell you."