The 3 Mistakes of My Life

by Chetan Bhagat

  ‘Come inside,’ Ish tugged hard at my sleeve.

  We went downstairs. My body shivered.

  ‘It’s fine. Let’s go to sleep. The police will come soon. By morning it will be ok,’ Ish said as he put his arm around me.

  ‘Can we sleep together?’ I said. Yes, I admit it, I felt super scared.

  Ish nodded. He picked up Ali from the couch. We went to the branch manager’s room on the first floor and shut the door. I checked my phone before going to bed. Vidya had given me a missed call. I was in no state of mind to call or SMS back. Ish lay next to me anyway. I kept the phone in my pocket.

  I took three quilts and slept in the middle next to Ali. Omi and Ish surrounded us. We switched off the lights at 10.30 p.m.

  At 11.30 p.m. I woke up again. We heard a shattering noise. Someone shook the main gate of the bank.

  ‘Who is it,’ I said. Ish stood up and wore his shirt.

  ‘Let’s find out,’ Ish said and shook Omi’s leg, ‘come Omi.’

  We went downstairs. I switched on the main lobby lights. Ish looked through the keyhole.

  ‘It’s the mob,’ Ish said, one eye still on the keyhole, ‘Mama is leading the pack.’

  We looked at each other. Ish turned the door knob and opened the door.

  Nineteen

  ‘My sons,’ Mama screamed.

  We unlocked the bank’s main gate and opened it slightly. Mama opened his arms. He held a fire-torch in one hand and a trishul in the other. I expected him to cry when he saw Omi, but he didn’t. He came close to us for a hug. He took the three of us in his arms. ‘My son, the bastards killed my son,’ Mama said as he wouldn’t let go of us.

  I looked into his cold eyes. He didn’t look like a father who had just lost his son. Alcohol and marijuana smells reeked from his mouth. Mama appeared more stoned than grieved.

  ‘My brother, Mama,’ Omi said and held back his tears.

  ‘Don’t cry. Nobody will cry today,’ Mama screamed and released us. He turned to address the mob, ‘we Hindus have only cried. While these mother fuckers come and keep killing us over the centuries. In a Hindu country, in a Hindu state, the fuckers can come and burn our kids in broad daylight. And we don’t do anything. We just cry. Come rape us, loot us and burn us. They think they can terrorise the whole fucking world but we will have no guts to do anything.’

  ‘Kill them,’ the mob replied. The shaky body movements of the mob showed their intoxication. By blood or alcohol, I could not tell.

  ‘But the bastards made a big mistake. They tried to rape Gujarat today. Mother fuckers thought these vegetarian people, what will they do? Come let’s show them what we can do?’

  Mama paused to take a sip from his hip flask. We stepped back towards the bank.

  ‘I hope they won’t expect us to join. I won’t,’ I whispered in Ish’s ear.

  ‘Nor am I, and let’s take Omi inside too,’ Ish said. We told Omi to hide behind us. In a delicate movement, Ish shut the bank gate again and locked it.

  ‘What are you whispering?’ Mama said and almost lost his balance. His fire torch fell on the floor. The mob cleared around it. He lifted the torch back.

  ‘Where is my other son? Open this gate,’ Mama said as he couldn’t see Omi.

  ‘What do you want Mama? Can we talk tomorrow?’ I said.

  ‘No tomorrow, I want something today.’

  ‘Mama, you know Omi needs to get home…,’ I said. Mama brushed me away.

  ‘I don’t want Omi. I don’t want any of you. I have many people to help me kill the bastards.’

  Ish came next to me. He held my hand tight.

  ‘So leave us Mama,’ Ish said.

  ‘I want the boy. I want that Muslim boy,’ Mama said.

  ‘What?’ Ish said.

  ‘Eye for an eye. I’ll slaughter him right here. Then I will cry for my son. Get the fucking boy,’ Mama said and thumped Ish’s chest. Ish struggled to stand straight.

  The blow torches lit up the dried grass on the entrance of the bank. A thick lock kept the gate shut and the mob outside.

  ‘Mama, you are drunk. There is nobody here,’ Omi said.

  ‘You lose a son first. Then I will tell you about being drunk,’ Mama said, ‘and I know he is here because he is not at his home.’

  ‘Mama, your dispute is with his father,’ I said.

  ‘I’ve taken care of his father,’ Mama said, ‘and his whore stepmother. I killed them with this.’ Mama lifted his trishul to show us. The tips had blood on them.

  I looked at Ish and Omi. We made an instant decision. We ran inside the bank. I shut the main entrance door and bolted it.

  I sucked in long, deep breaths.

  ‘Relax, relax … we have to think,’ Ish said.

  ‘I will join them and take them away,’ Omi said.

  ‘No, it won’t work,’ Ish said.

  ‘They killed his parents?’ I said and continued to breathe fast.

  The mob banged against the gate. They didn’t like our vanishing manoeuvre. I wondered how long the lock would hold.

  I sat down on the couch. I had to think despite the deafening gate noise.

  ‘What are our options,’ I said.

  ‘We can try to negotiate with them,’ I said.

  Nobody responded.

  ‘They have madness in their eyes, they won’t talk,’ Omi said.

  ‘We could try and escape. Or fight them,’ Ish said.

  ‘You want to fight forty people who are under a spell to murder?’ I said.

  ‘Then what?’ Ish said.

  I looked at Ish. For the first time in my life, I had seen him scared. I kept looking at him hoping he would consider all options. Even the worst one.

  ‘Don’t even think about giving up Ali,’ Ish said to me as his pointed finger poked my chest.

  ‘What else can we offer them?’ I said.

  ‘Money?’ Ish said as his body shivered, ‘you say people always talk if there is money involved.’

  ‘We don’t have that much money,’ I said.

  ‘But we will make it and give it to them,’ Ish said.

  ‘For Mama it is not about the money,’ Omi said.

  ‘That is true,’ Ish said, ‘but if we buy the rest of them, Mama won’t be able to do it alone. We need to scatter the crowd.’

  I paced around the room. We didn’t have money. Yes, the rioters would be poor people in the neighbourhood with nothing to lose. But still, how and who would do the talking?

  ‘You are the best at money talk,’ Ish said.

  ‘It could backfire. How do I separate Mama from them?’ I said.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Omi said.

  We opened the main door again. The crowd stopped banging their trishuls at the front gate lock.

  ‘C’mon son, open the gate. You boys can leave, we will do the rest,’ Mama said.

  ‘Mama, I want to talk to you. Just you,’ Omi said in a sympathetic voice.

  ‘Sure, open the gate son,’ Mama said.

  I went forward and opened the gate. I raised my hand to calm the crowd. I had to appear confident.

  ‘Move back. Mama wants to talk to his other son,’ I said.

  Omi took Mama to the side and hugged him. Mama consoled him. I looked through the crowd to see any influential person. A man with a turban had six men behind him. He wore a gold chain.

  ‘Can I talk to you?’ I said.

  The man came to me. He held a fire torch in his hand. My cheek felt the heat.

  ‘Sir, I want to offer you a proposal.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How many of these men are yours?’

  ‘Ten,’ he said, after some hesitation.

  ‘If I promise you ten thousand, can you slowly step back and walk away?’ I said.

  ‘Why?’ he said.

  ‘Please, don’t ask. Consider it an offering. And keep it quiet as I don’t have enough for all.’

  ‘Why do you want to save the boy?’ he asked.

  ‘Fifteen
thousand last. My shop is at the temple. You can ruin it if I don’t pay.’

  The man in the gold chain went back to his group. He spoke to them as they stepped backwards. He turned to me and nodded. Twenty-five per cent of my problem was over.

  Mama left Omi and came to me.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ Mama said. He did not notice forty people turning to thirty in his drunk state.

  ‘Mama think again. You have a future in the party. Parekh-ji will not approve of this,’ I said.

  Mama laughed. He took out his mobile phone and dialled a number.

  ‘Parekh-ji won’t approve?’ Mama said and waited for the phone to be picked up.

  ‘Yes, Parekh-ji, I am well. Don’t worry, I will grieve later. Right now it is war time. Oh and someone thinks you are not happy with me … here talk … yes talk…’

  Mama passed his phone. The crowd waited behind us.

  ‘Hello? Who is this,’ Parekh-ji’s voice came at the other end.

  ‘Govind, Parekh-ji. One of Omi’s friends. We came to Vishala with you…,’ I said.

  ‘Oh yes. Son, trying day for us Hindus. So are you supporting us?’

  ‘This is wrong, sir,’ I said, not sure why I called him sir, ‘this is wrong.’

  ‘What? The train burning, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not that Parekh-ji, they want to kill a boy.’

  ‘So what can I do?’ he said.

  ‘Stop them.’

  ‘Our job is to listen to people and do what they tell us. Not the other way round.’

  ‘People don’t want this,’ I said.

  ‘They do. Trust me. Today, the cooker needs a whistle to release the pressure.’

  ‘But kids? Women?’ I said.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. Whatever it takes to quench the hurt feelings. People in pain want to feel better. Unfortunately, today I can’t think of a better way.’

  ‘This is a horrible way,’ I said.

  ‘This will last a day or two, but if we stifle it, it could explode into a huge civil war.’

  ‘Your party will be blamed for it,’ I said, trying to appeal to their self-interest.

  ‘By who? A few pseudos? Not the people of Gujarat. We are making people feel better. They will elect us again and again. You wait and see.’

  ‘Sir, this boy. He could be in the national team someday.’

  Mama snatched the phone from me.

  ‘Don’t worry Parekh-ji, I’ll take care of all this. You will be proud of me tomorrow,’ Mama said and hung up.

  I looked around for another mini-leader in the pack. I walked up to him and took him aside.

  ‘Fifteen thousand, you take your people and walk away,’ I said.

  This time my lure did not entice.

  ‘Mama, he is trying to buy me,’ the mini-leader screamed at the top of his voice.

  ‘No, no you heard me wrong, what are you mad or something?’ I said and moved back towards the bank.

  ‘What’s going on Omi? Get the boy here,’ Mama screamed.

  Omi nodded to Mama. He went to the main door. The crowd remained at the gate and only the porch separated us. However, the gate did not have a lock anymore.

  Omi knocked on the main entrance. Ish opened it after confirming the person. Both of them disappeared inside.

  I stood alone with the rioters. They suspected me of offering bribes. I wanted to run inside too. However, someone had to keep the crowd out.

  ‘Are they getting him?’ Mama asked me.

  ‘I think so,’ I said.

  I offered to check inside as Mama asked twice. I went to the door and knocked. Ish opened it for a nanosecond and I slipped inside.

  I let out the loudest sigh ever. Ish bolted the door and blocked it with the sofa from the waiting lounge.

  ‘They are waiting. If one of us doesn’t show up in two minutes, they will attack,’ I said.

  ‘Ali woke up,’ Omi said.

  ‘Where is he?’ I said.

  ‘I locked him in the manager’s room. How many people?’ Ish said.

  ‘Thirty,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s fight,’ Ish said.

  Twenty

  ‘Ish, I want to talk to you,’ I said.

  ‘We don’t have time,’ Ish said.

  ‘Omi!’ Mama’s scream came through the main door.

  ‘Coming Mama. Give us five minutes,’ Omi screamed back.

  ‘Get him fast,’ Mama said.

  I made Ish sit on the sofa that blocked the main door.

  ‘Ish, can I offer a bit of logic in the current chaos,’ I said.

  ‘What? We have no time,’ Ish said.

  ‘I know. But I also know what will happen if we fight thirty people. We will all die. They will get Ali and kill him too,’ I said.

  ‘So what are you trying to say,’ Ish said and stood up.

  ‘Giving up three lives to possibly save one. Can you show me the maths in this?’

  ‘Fuck your maths. This isn’t about business.’

  ‘Then what is it about? Why should we all die? Only because you love the kid?’

  ‘No,’ he said and turned his back to me.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Because he is a national treasure,’ Ish said.

  ‘Oh, and we are national filth? So maybe one day the kid will hit a few sixes and Indians will waste the day watching TV and get thrills out of it. So fucking what? What about my mother? What about Omi’s parents? What about…,’ I said and turned quiet. I almost said Vidya.

  ‘I’m not giving him up. You want to run away. Open the door and run. Omi, you are welcome to go too,’ Ish said.

  ‘I am not going. But how do we fight them Ish?’ Omi said.

  Ish told us to follow him. He led us to the kitchen. He told us to lift a kerosene canister each. He also picked up three buckets that we used to chill beer. We fell in step behind him as we took the steps to the roof.

  ‘It’s heavy,’ I said.

  ‘Twenty litres each. That’s heavy for sure,’ Ish said as we reached the roof.

  Fires dotted the neighbourhood skyline. The weather didn’t feel as cold as a February night should be.

  ‘We are coming!’ Mama said as his group pushed the rusted metal gate of the bank open. They came to the porch and banged on the main entrance door.

  ‘Stop shouting Mama,’ Ish said.

  Mama looked up to the roof.

  ‘Where are you hiding sister-fuckers,’ Mama said. The crowd hurled fire torches at us. We stood two stories high. Nothing reached us. One fire torch fell on a rioter and he yelped in pain. A mob maybe passionate, but it can also be quite stupid. They stopped throwing torches after that.

  Ish kept Mama engaged.

  ‘Mama, I was born without fear. See,’ Ish said and climbed on the roof ledge.

  The crowd became distracted. If they weren’t, they’d attack the main door. Despite three bolts and a sofa in front, they would break it in ten minutes flat. After that, they’d have to break the first floor entrance door and then the flimsy one at the roof. In fifteen minutes, we would be roasted in blowtorches. Ish’s plan better be good.

  ‘Say Jai Sri Ram,’ Ish shouted. It worked perfectly, the crowd had to participate. Most of the crowd did not know whether we supported them or not. At least not yet.

  Meanwhile, Omi and I poured the kerosene out of the canisters into the buckets. The canisters had a narrow neck and the kerosene wouldn’t flow out fast. We needed a big strike.

  Ish struck Siva’s poses on the ledge. A few drunk members of the mob even bowed to him. Perhaps Siva had come down tonight to bless the rioters.

  ‘One, two, three and go,’ I whispered as Omi and I upturned the buckets. We threw the oil forward to keep it away from the bank building.

  The blowtorches in the rioters’ hands acted as the ignition. A river of fire fell on the bank’s porch. Panic spread in the mob. They took a few moments to realise we had attacked them. Ish stepped off the ledge. We hid ourselves under the parapet. I raised
my head high enough to watch the happenings below. A few mobsters ran out of the bank gate as their clothes caught fire. I suppose it is much more fun to burn people, than get burnt yourself.

  ‘How many ran away?’ Ish said.

  ‘Quite a few. There’s panic downstairs.’ The remaining people started jabbing trishuls on the main door. I popped my body up to count the people. I estimated more than ten, but less than twenty.

  ‘We have to go down,’ Ish said.

  ‘Are you mad?’ I said.

  ‘No. Let’s reduce the people further,’ Ish said.

  ‘Ish, we are hurting people. Some of them may die. We threw a lot of kerosene,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t care,’ Ish said, ‘we have to hurt some more.’

  We came down to the first floor. Ish unlocked the branch manager’s office door with the bunch of keys in his pocket. Ali awaited him inside and ran to hug him.

  ‘I am scared,’ Ali said and broke into tears.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine,’ Ish said.

  ‘I want to go home to abba.’

  I ran my fingers through Ali’s hair. Home was no longer an option.

  ‘Ali, you will be fine if you listen to me. Will you listen to me?’ Ish said.

  Ali nodded.

  ‘Some horrible people want to get you. I need to lock you up in the vault. They will never get you there,’ Ish said. He pointed to the claustrophobic six by six room.

  ‘There? It’s so dark?’ Ali said.

  ‘Here, take my phone. Keep the light on. I will be back soon,’ Ish said and gave him his cellphone.