The 3 Mistakes Of My Life (30 page)

Read The 3 Mistakes Of My Life Online

Authors: Chetan Bhagat

manager's desk.

'You are fucking weak, you know that,' Ish said.

'I can finish you now. Thank your stars you were born in a Hindu house,'

Mama said as he spat on Ish's face. Mama came to Ali.

'Oh, you want to play eh? You want to play bat ball with me,' Mama said and

laughed as Ali held up his bat.

'Move away,' Mama said to his men, 'the boy wants to play. Yeah, you son of a

whore, play with me,' Mama said as he danced around Ali, just out of the striking

distance of Ali's bat.

Ali pranced around as he stumbled on two cricket balls kept on the floor.

Mama picked one up.

'You want me to bowl? Eh? Play bat ball?' Mama said and laughed, 'one last

ball before you die?'

Mama tossed the ball in his hands.

'Yeah, bowl to me,' Ali said.

'Oh really?' Mama said and laughed.

Another ball lay next to Ali's foot. Ali brushed the ball with his feet towards Ish.

The ball rolled to Ish. Ish sat on the floor leaning against the manager's table. His

toes whooshed out blood and he couldn't get up.

'Don't come near me,' Ali said to Mama.

'Oh, I am so scared of the bat ball,' Mama said and pretended to shiver in jest.

He tossed the ball in one hand and held the trishul in the other.

Ish picked up the ball slowly. Ali's eyes met with Ish. Ali gave the briefest nod

possible.

Ish lifted the ball in his hand. The captor noticed but didn't react. Ish threw the

ball towards Ali with all his strength.

Slam! Ali struck the ball with the bat. He had one shot, and he didn't miss it.

The ball hit Mama's temple hard. Mama released the ball in his hand to hold his

head. The ball fell on the floor and Ali kicked it to Ish. Ish threw it again, Ali

connected and slam! The ball hit the centre of Mama's forehead.

Ali's shots were powerful enough to get balls out of stadiums. At five feet range,

they hit Mama like exploding bricks. Mama fell down. His trishul fell on the floor.

Ish used it as a stick to get up. The captors ran towards Mama. Ish came from

behind and stabbed one in his neck. The other captor saw the blood gush out,

the killer look in Ish's eyes. He opened the bolt and was out of sight in ten

seconds.

Ali kneeled down on the floor. He held his right wrist with his left hand.

'Oh my God,' Ali said, more in pain than surprise at what he had done.

Mama lay on the ground. His temple had burst. Internal bleeding had made his

forehead dark and swollen. He barely moved. Nobody wanted to go close to check

his breath. His eyes shut after five minutes and I checked his pulse.

'It's stopped. I think he's dead,' I said. I had become an expert in dead bodies.

Ish's arms wrapped around Ali.

'It's hurting a lot Ish bhaiya. Take me home,' Ali said. His body still trembled in

fear.

'C'mon move that wrist. Ali, you need that wrist, keep it alive,' Ish said. He

hobbled towards the door to leave. He used a trishul as his walking stick.

'We saved him, Ish we saved him,' I said as I shook Ish's shoulders from

behind.

Ish stopped. He turned to me. He didn't give me a dirty look, but something

worse than that. He gave me the look of indifference. Sure, I had let him down for

lots of reasons. But why was he behaving like
Who was I?
Like he had nothing

whatsoever to do with me. Ish turned and started to walk.

'Hey Ish, wait for me. I'll help you open the door' I said. I reached the door.

Ish hand gestured me to get out of the way.

'Ish, c'mon Ish, he is alive. We, we did it,' I said.

Ish didn't say anything. He left me like I was one of the dead bodies and walked

out.

Epilogue

The heart rate monitor beeped fast. Govind's pulse had crossed 130 beats a minute.

The nurse came running inside. 'What did you do?' she said.

'I am fine. Just chatting,' Govind said. He sat up a little on the bed.

'Don't make him exert himself.' The nurse wagged her finger at me. I nodded and she

left the room.

'And from that day, exactly three years, two months and one week ago, Ish has not

spoken to me again. Everytime I try speaking to him he snubs me.' Govind ended his

story.

I gave him a glass of water as his voice faltered.

'So what happened in the three years - to the shop, to Vidya, to Ali?' I asked.

He turned his gaze down and played with the heart rate monitor wire attached on his

chest. He swallowed a couple of times to keep his composure.

I did not prod further. If he wanted to tell me, he would. I checked the time, it was five

in the morning. I stepped outside the room. The early morning sunlight filled the

hospital corridors. I asked someone where to get tea from. He pointed me to the

canteen.

I came back with two cups. Govind refused as he wasn't allowed one after a stomach

wash. He didn't make eye contact.

'I need to find the Singapore Airlines phone number. I have to confirm my return

trip,' I said, to change his mood.

'Omi's parents,' Govind said, his gaze and voice both low. 'I can't tell you how ...

destroyed they were. For weeks, the temple had visitors from the neighbourhood and

the only prayers were for Omi, Dhiraj and Mama. At the funerals, Omi's father cried

as five thousand people descended from all over Ahmedabad. Omi's mother became ill

after not eating for a week. She had to be in the hospital for a month!

I debated whether to place my hand on Govind's hand lying pale on the covers.

'I didn't go to the shop for two months. I tried to contact Ish, but ... If I went to meet

him, he'd shut the door on my face.'

'Did you speak to Vidya?'

Govind shook his head. 'Speaking to Vidya was out of question. They put her under

house arrest. Her dad slammed her mobile phone to pieces. The TV channels moved

on after the Godhra news and the riots. But my life collapsed. I lived through all that.

I didn't pop pills then. Don't think I am not strong ... just because I am here today'

He paused. 'Three months after the incident, Omi's mother came home. She told me

to reopen the shop. Omi had told her it was his favourite place in the world. Mama

was gone, so the shop belonged to Omi's mother now. And she wanted to give it to us

to keep the memory of her son alive.'

'So did you agree?'

'Initially, I couldn't meet her eye. The guilt ... of letting Omi die, of my part in

Mama's death, of celebrating Mama's death. But she knew nothing of my nightmares

and I had to make a living anyway. The business was losing money. We had defaulted

many supply contracts. So I came back to the shop. Ish told Omi's mother he Would

come, too, but didn't want anything to do with me. Omi's mother wanted us both, so

there was only one solution.' 'What?'

'We split the shop into two. We put a plywood wall right in the middle. Ish took the

right side and continued the sports shop. I took the left and turned my portion into a

student stationery and textbook store. His customers often came to my store and vice

versa. We offered studies and sports at the same place but we never, not once, spoke.

Not even when India reached the finals in the 2003 World Cup. Ish watches matches

alone now, and never jumps at a six.'

'Did you ever contact Vidya again? And what happened to Ali?' I realised I was

asking more questions than offering support. But I had to know.

'They sent Vidya to Bombay, to do a PR course. That was the one positive thing for

her. They wanted her away from me, medical college or not. So Vidya did get to fly

out of her cage. She had instructions to never speak to me again. However, she loves

breaking rules and did try to contact me a couple of times from there. But this time I

never replied. I couldn't do it... I saw her brother everyday. All I wanted to do was

make as much money as possible and save it for Ali.'

'To bring him up?' I said and took a sip from my cup. Why does hospital tea taste like

Dettol?

'Ali stays in Ish's house now, so he will be brought up well anyway. But we need the

money for his wrist operation. A lot of money,' Govind said.

The nurse came to the room for the morning checkup. Govind requested he wanted to

use the toilet. The nurse agreed and took off the drips and monitor cords attached to

him. I waited anxiously for ten minutes, my mind riven with doubts about his

stability, when he returned. 'What kind of operation?' I asked.

'Ali's wrist is damaged. That means his ability to turn the bat at the right time is

gone. I saved his life, but my one second of delay cost him his gift. I told you, that

delay was the third mistake of my life.'

'You did your best. It was a moment's delay,' I reassured.

'But a conscious moment. I was selfish. Like I was with my ambition when I wanted

to make the mall, or when I was with Vidya. They are right, you know. I am not a

businessman, I am a selfish bastard,' he said and paused before speaking again.

'He needs reconstructive surgery. The trishul gouged out some of the muscle from the

wrist. So doctors have to cut up a piece of muscle from the thigh and attach it to the

wrist. Then, they have to hope that it works. It isn't a synthetic skin graft, but a

muscle transfer. It only happens abroad. And it costs a bomb.'

'How much?'

'Don't even talk about the full price. Ish wrote to every big hospital in the UK and

USA for subsidies. The best deal he has is from a hospital in UK, which has promised

us an operation for five lakhs. Of course, Ish never told me all this. That is all I could

hear from the thin plywood wall'

'You have the money?'

'Ish saved two lakhs in the past three years. I saved another three. Last week I went to

him with the money. I said let's pool our resources and get Ali operated. I said we

must act now as it takes nine months to get an appointment at that hospital anyway.

And then he...,' Govind's voice choked again.

'You ok?' I said.

Govind nodded. 'You know what he did? He refused to touch my money and wore

cricket gloves while handing the envelope back to me. In fact, he offered me his

cashbox and said he could give me money if I needed it to satisfy my greed. He said he

didn't want to get Ali operated with a dishonest man's money.'

Govind voice began to break. 'I am not dishonest. I'm selfish and have made mistakes,

but I'm not dishonest. And I don't only care about money. I care about Ali, too.'

I sat on his bed put my hand on his arm. He pulled it away.

'After three years of saving every rupee I could, Ish calls my labour dishonest. I can't

take it anymore. Dr Verma had given me pills as I had trouble sleeping at night. That

day I felt why not sleep once and for all. Maybe I had calculated life all wrong. It was

time to quit the equation.' He smiled feebly.

The doctor came to Govind's ward at 7 a.m. The chemicals from the pills had been

flushed out of Govind's system.

'I'd like the patient to sleep for six hours,' the doctor told me as he drew the curtains.

I left the room and went out. Govind's mother sat on a bench in the corridor. She

looked up, worried.

'He is fine, just needs some rest.' I sat next to her on the bench.

'Such a brave boy I had. What happened to him?' she sighed.

'He thought he was being brave,' I said. 'Does Ish know?'

She looked at me sideways. 'They don't talk.'

'Can you tell him what happened. Don't force him to come to the hospital,' I said.

Govind's mother nodded. We left the hospital together. She had sat in an auto when I

spoke again. 'By the way, do you know which college Vidya goes to in Bombay?'

'So many visitors? This is a hospital, not a club,' the nurse grumbled as she changed

Govind's bedsheets in the evening.

Govind's hospital room was bustling with people. Apart from the nurse, there were

Ish, Vidya, Govind's mother and I. We waited for Mr Sleepyhead to wake up from his

second nap of the day. A lot of people had lost sleep because of his sleeping pills.

Govind's eyelashes flickered and everyone moved closer to the bed.

'Ish? Vidya!' Govind blinked.

'There are better ways to attract attention,' Vidya said. 'When did you come?'

Govind asked, quite forgetting the others.

'I left my marketing class halfway,' Vidya said. 'But that doesn't mean I forgive you

Other books

A Crying Shame by William W. Johnstone
Lord of Falcon Ridge by Catherine Coulter
Healer by Carol Cassella
Trading Christmas by Debbie Macomber
Jane Bonander by Dancing on Snowflakes
Why These Two by Jackie Ivie