The 3 Mistakes Of My Life (14 page)

'Why not?'

'People label you a geek.'

'That you are,' she giggled.

She pulled the oil bottle cap close.

'Can you help me oil my hair? I can't reach the back.'

My tongue slipped like it was coated in that oil as I tried to speak. 'Vidya, we

should study now.'

'Yeah, yeah, almost done. Just above the back of my neck, please.'

She twisted on her chair so her back faced me. She held up the cap of the oil

bottle.

What the hell, I thought. I dipped my index finger in the oil and brought it to

her neck.

'Not here,' she giggled again. 'It tickles. Higher, yes at the roots.'

She told me to dip three fingers instead of one and press harder. I followed her

instructions in a daze. The best maths tutor in town had become a champi man.

'How's the new shop coming?' she said.

'Great, I paid the deposit and three months advance rent,' I said. 'Fifty

thousand bucks, cash. We will have the best location in the mall'

'I can't wait,' she said.

'Two more months,' I said. 'Ok, that's enough. You do it yourself now, I will

hold the cap for you.'

She turned to look at me, dipped her fingers in the oil and applied it to her

head.

'I wish I were a boy,' she said, rubbing oil vigorously.

'Why? Easier to oil hair?' I said, holding up the cap in my hand even though

my wrist ached.

'So much easier for you to achieve your passions. I won't be allowed to open

such a shop,' she said.

I kept quiet.

'There, hopefully my brain would have woken up now,' she said, tying back her

hair and placing the chemistry book at the centre of the table.

'1 don't want to study this,' she said.

"Vidya, as your teacher my role is...'

'Yeah, what is your role as my teacher? Teach me how to reach my dreams or

how to be a drone?'

I kept quiet. She placed her left foot on her lap. I noticed the tiny teddy bears

all over her pajamas.

'Well, I am not your teacher. I am your tutor, your maths tutor. And as far as I

know, there are no dream tutors.'

'Are you not my friend?'

'Well, sort of.'

'Ok, sort-of-friend, what do you think I should do? Crush my passion and

surround myself with hydrocarbon molecules forever?'

I kept quiet.

'Say something. I should lump these lessons even if I have no interest in them

whatsoever as that is what all good Indian students do?'

I kept quiet.

'What?' she prodded me again.

'The problem is you think I am this geek who solves probability problems for

thrills. Well, maybe I do, but that is not all of me. I am a tutor, it is a job. But

never fucking accuse me of crushing your passion.' Too late I realised I had used

the F-word. 'Sorry for the language.'

'Cursing is an act of passion.'

I smiled and turned away from her.

'So there you go,' she said, 'my tutor-friend, I want to make an admission to

you. I want to go to Mumbai, but not to cut cadavers. I want to study PR.'

I banged my fist on the table. 'Then do it. Don't give me this wish-I-was-a-boy

and I'm-trapped-in-a-cage nonsense. Ok, so you are in a cage, but you have a

nice, big, oiled brain that is not pea-sized like a bird's. So use it to find the key

out.'

'Medical college is one key, but not for me,' she said.

'In that case, break the cage,' I said.

'How?'

'What makes the cage? Your parents, right? Do you have to listen to them all

the time?'

'Of course not. I've been lying to them since I was five.'

'Really? Wow,' I said and collected myself. 'Passion versus parents is a tough

call. But if you have to choose, passion should win. Humanity wouldn't have

progressed if people listened to their parents all the time.'

'Exactly. Our parents are not innocent either. Weren't we all conceived in a

moment of passion?' I looked at her innocent -looking face, shocked. This girl is

out of control. Maybe it isn't such a good idea to get her out of her cage.

Nine

26 January is a happy day for all Indians. Whether or not you feel patriotic, it

is a guaranteed holiday in the first month of the year. I remember thinking it

would be the last holiday at our temple shop since we were scheduled to move to

the new mall on Valentine's Day. Apart from the deposit, we had spent another

sixty thousand to fit out the interiors. I borrowed ten thousand from my mother,

purely as a loan. Ish's dad refused to give any money. Omi, even though I had

said no, took the rest in loan from Bittoo Mama.

The night before Republic Day, I lay in bed with my thoughts. I had invested a

hundred and ten thousand rupees. My business had already reached lakhs.

Should we do a turf carpet throughout? Now that would be cool for a sports shop.

I dreamed of my chain of stores the whole night.

'Stop shaking me mom, I want to sleep,' I screamed. Can't the world let a

businessman sleep on a rare holiday.

But mom didn't shake me. I moved on my own. I opened my eyes. My bed went

back and forth too. I looked at the wall clock. It had fallen on the floor. The room

furniture, fan and windows vibrated violently.

I rubbed my eyes, what was this? Nightmares?

I stood up and went to the window. People on the street ran haphazardly in

random directions.

'Govind,' my mother screamed from the other room, 'hide under the table. It is

an earthquake.'

'What?' I said and ducked under the side table kept by the window in reflex. I

could see the havoc outside. Three TV antennas horn the opposite building fell

down. A telephone pole broke and collapsed on the ground.

The tremors lasted for forty-five seconds, the most destructive and longest

forty-five seconds of my life. Of course, I did not know n then. A strange silence

followed the earthquake.

'Mom,' I screamed.

'Govind, don't move,' she screamed back.

'It is gone,' I said after ten more minutes had passed, 'you

ok?'

I came out to the living room. Everything on the wall -I alendars, paintings and

lampshades, lay on the floor.

'Govind,' my mother came and hugged me. Yes, I was fine. My mother was fine

too.

'Let's get out,' she said.

'Why?'

'The building might collapse.'

'I don't think so,' I said as my mother dragged me out in my pajamas. The

street was full of people.

'Is it a bomb?' a man spoke to the other in whispers.

'Earthquake. It's coming on TV. It started in Bhuj,' a man on the street said.

'Bad?' the other man said.

'We felt the tremors hundreds of kilometres away, imagine the situation in

Bhuj,' another old man said.

We stood out for an hour. No, the foundation of our building, or for that matter

any in our pol had not come loose. Meanwhile, rumours and gossip spread fast.

Some said more earthquakes could come. Some said India had tested a nuclear

bomb. A few parts of Ahmedabad reported property damage. Stories rippled

through the street.

I re-entered my house after two hours and switched on the TV. Every channel

covered the earthquake. It epicentred in Bhuj, though it affected many parts of

Gujarat.

'Reports suggest that while most of Ahmedabad is safe, many new and

upcoming buildings have suffered severe damage...,' the reporter said as tingles

went down my spine.

'No, no, no...,' I mumbled to myself.

'What?' my mother said as she brought me tea and toast.

'I have to go out.'

'Where?'

'Navrangpura ... now,' I said and wore my slippers. Are you mad?' she said.

'My shop mom, my shop,' is all 1 said as I ran out of the house.

The whole city was shut. I couldn't find any autos or buses. I decided to run

the seven-kilometre stretch. I had to see if my new store was ok. Yes, I just

wanted that to be ok.

It took me an hour to get there. I saw the devastation en-route. The new city

areas like Satellite suffered heavy damage. Almost every building had their

windows broken. Those buildings that were under construction had crumbled to

rubble. I entered Navrangpura. Signs of plush shops lay on the road. I reasoned

that my new, ultra-modern building would have earthquake safety features. I

gasped for breath as I ran the last hundred metres. Sweat covered my entire

body.

Did I miss the building? I said as I reached my lane. The mayhem on the street

and the broken signs made it hard to identify addresses.

I retreated, catching my breath.

'Where is the building?' I said to myself as I kept circling my lane.

I found it, finally. Only that the six storeys that were intact a day ago had now

turned into a concrete heap. I could not concentrate. I felt intense thirst. I looked

for water, but I only saw rubble, rubble and more rubble. My stomach hurt. I

grabbed it with my left hand and sat on a broken bench to keep my

consciousness.

The police pulled out a labourer, with bruises all over. Cement hags had fallen

on him and crushed his legs. The sight of blood made me vomit. No one in the

crowd noticed me. One lakh and ten thousand, the number spun in my head.

Unrelated images of the day my dad left us flashed in my head. Those images

had not come for years. The look on his face as he shut the living room door on

the way out. My mother's silent tears for the next few hours, which continued for

the next few years. I don't know why that past scene came to me. I think the

brain has a special box where it keeps crappy memories. It stays shut, but

everytime a new entry has to be added, it opens and you can look at what is

inside. I felt anger at my dad, totally misplaced as I should have felt anger at the

earthquake. Or at myself, for betting so much money. Anger for making the
first

big mistake
of my life.

My body trembled with violent intensity.

'Don't worry, God will protect us,' someone tapped my shoulder.

'Oh really, then who the hell sent it in the first place?' I said and pushed the

stranger away. I didn't need sympathy, I wanted my shop.

Two years of scrimping and saving, twenty years of dreams - all wiped away in

twenty seconds. The 'Navrangpura Mall's' neon sign, once placed at the top of the

six floor building, now licked the ground. Maybe this was God's way of saying

something - that we shouldn't have these malls. We were destined to remain a

small town and we shouldn't even try to be like the big cities. I don't know why I

thought of God, I was agnostic. But who else do you blame earthquakes on?

Of course, I could blame the builder of the Navrangpura mall. For the hundred-

year-old buildings in the old city pols remained standing. Omi's two-hundred-

year-old temple stood intact. Then why did my fucking mall collapse? What did he

make it with? Sand?

I needed someone to blame. I needed to hit someone, something. I lifted a

brick, and threw it at an already smashed window. The remaining glass broke

into little bits.

'What are you doing? Haven't we seen enough destruction?' said someone next

to me.

I couldn't make out his face, or anyone's face. My heart beat at double the

normal rate. Surely, we could sue the builder, my heart said. The builder would

have run away, my head said. And no one would get their money back.

'Govind, Govind,' Ish said. He screamed in my ear when I finally noticed him.

'What the hell are you doing here man? It is dangerous to be out, let's go home'

Ish said.

I kept looking at the rubble like I had for the last four hours.

'Govind,' Ish said, 'we can't do anything. Let's go.' 'We are finished Ish,' I said,

feeling moist in my eyes for the first time in a decade.

'It's ok buddy. We have to go,' Ish said. 'We lost everything. Look, our business

collapsed even before
IT
opened...'

I broke down. I never cried the day my father left us. I never cried when my

hand had got burnt one Diwali and Dr Verma had
TO
give me sedatives to go to

sleep. I never cried when India lost a match. I never cried when I couldn't join

engineering college. I never cried when we barely made any money for the first

three months of business. But that day, when God slapped my city for no reason,

I cried and cried. Ish held me and let me use his shirt to absorb my tears.

'Govi, let's go home,' Ish said. He never shortened my name before. He'd never

seen me like that too. Their CEO and parent had broken down.

'We are cursed man. I saved, and I saved and I fucking saved. And we took

loans. But then, this? Ish, I don't want to see that smug look on Bittoo Mama's

face. I will work on the roadside,' I said as Ish dragged me away to an auto.