The 3 Mistakes of My Life Read online

  ‘Yeah, and not as a tutor. As a friend. As a very good friend.’

  A ‘very good friend’ is a dangerous category with Indian girls. From here you can either make fast progress. Or, if you play it wrong, you go down to the lowest category invented by Indian women ever – rakhi brother. Rakhi brother really means ‘you can talk to me, but don’t even freaking think about anything else you bore’. A little voice in my mind shouted at me, ‘tell her you miss her stupid, or you’ll be getting rakhis for the rest of your life.’

  ‘I do. If you were here, Sydney would be more fun.’

  ‘Wow, that’s the nicest thing you ever said to me.’

  I kept quiet. When you have said something nice, don’t be in a hurry to speak again and ruin the good line.

  ‘Can I get you anything from here?’ I said.

  ‘Tight budget, isn’t it?’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, but a little something won’t hurt…,’ I said.

  ‘I have an idea. Get me some sand from the beach you are on right now. That way I will have a piece of Sydney with me.’

  Sand? Now that was a weird request. At least it was cheap. Free, rather.

  ‘Really?’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, bring me a matchbox full of sand. And put some feelings in it if there is space,’ she said.

  The phone display blinked. It threatened me to feed it with more money or my first romantic conversation would be murdered. I had no coins left.

  ‘Listen, I have to go now. No more change,’ I said.

  ‘Sure, come back soon. Someone’s missing you.’

  ‘Back in three days. I miss you too,’ I said and cleared my throat. Wow, I could actually say what I felt after all.

  ‘And I want to tell you something…,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  Beep. Beep. Beep. A stupid Australian company called Telstra ruined my first romantic moment.

  I walked back. I thought about the girl who only wanted sand. I also thought how much money telecom companies must make given a tiny call cost me as much as a meal.

  I passed a trendy outdoor restaurant called Blue Orange Café. Australians give the word laid-back new meaning. People sit with a glass of beer for hours. Beautiful waitresses scampered around getting people burgers and toasted sandwiches.

  I took a match box from the bar and emptied the sticks in a dustbin. I walked back to the shore until the surfy water touched my toes. I looked around and bent over. I stuffed some sand in the matchbox and put it in my pocket.

  ‘Hey, what are you doing?’ Omi said as he emerged from the waves like the world’s ugliest mermaid.

  ‘Nothing, what are you doing this side? The waves are better at the other end,’ I said.

  ‘I came to meet you. Can I borrow a few coins for a Coke. I feel thirsty.’

  ‘Coins are finished. Have some cash left for today, but let’s use it to eat lunch.’

  ‘Finished?’ Omi said.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, irritated. I don’t like it when people less sensible than me question me.

  ‘Who did you call?’ Omi said.

  ‘Supplier.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Fuck off Omi, let’s go get lunch. Will you get dry first.’

  ‘Vidya?’

  I looked at him dumbstruck. What a random guess. And what the hell is his business anyway.

  ‘What?’ I said, surprised.

  ‘Don’t lie to me.’

  ‘C’mon Omi why would I call Vidya?’

  ‘I’m not that stupid.’

  ‘You are,’ I said.

  We walked towards the restaurant with me three steps ahead of him.

  ‘I’ve seen the way you guys look at each other,’ he said as he tried to catch up with me.

  ‘Get lost,’ I said and walked faster. We came to Campbell Parade, a strip of bars and cafés near the beach.

  ‘And I’ve noticed. You never talk about her since you started teaching her,’ he said.

  I went inside ‘Hog’s Breath Café’. After five days in this country, the name didn’t seem weird anymore.

  We sat facing each other. I lifted the menu to cover my face and avoid conversation.

  ‘You can hide if you want. But I know.’

  I slid the menu down.

  ‘It’s nothing, ok maybe something. But nothing to worry about,’ I said.

  I hid behind the menu again.

  ‘There is an unspoken rule among Indian men, and you broke it.’

  ‘What rule?’ I said and slammed the menu on the table.

  ‘You don’t hit upon your best friend’s sister. You just don’t. It is against the protocol.’

  ‘Protocol? What is this, the army? And I didn’t hit on her. She hit upon me,’ I said.

  ‘But you let her hit upon you. You let her.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t exactly like being hit. It didn’t hurt. It felt good,’ I said.

  I played with the toothpicks on the table to avoid eye contact.

  ‘Fuck man, how far are you guys?’

  ‘What? Hey Omi, go call Ish for lunch. We are here and he has no idea.’

  ‘Yes, he really has no idea,’ Omi said and left.

  A noisy gang played on the pool table near us. I had five minutes until Ish came back. Thoughts came to me. Will Omi say something stupid to him? No, Omi was not that stupid.

  Omi and Ish walked in laughing. Ok, all is good.

  ‘Hog’s Breath? Can you think of a worse name for a restaurant?’ Ish said and laughed.

  ‘I can,’ Omi said.

  ‘Don’t say it. Anyway, where’s the toilet? I have to go siphon the…,’ Ish said.

  ‘Over there,’ I interrupted him and pointed to the corner. I had enough of Aussies for a lifetime.

  ‘Are you intimate with her?’ Omi continued.

  ‘Did you say anything to him?’ I said.

  ‘You think I’m stupid?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I didn’t. Now tell me, what stage are you in the relationship?’ Omi said.

  ‘Stage?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, there is a “we-just-look” stage, the most common stage in the old city. Then a “we-just-talk” stage. Then a “hold-hand” stage. Then a…’

  ‘It’s not like that. It’s different between us.’

  ‘Fuck, that’s an advanced stage. When you think your relationship is different from any other in this world. Don’t do anything stupid ok?’

  ‘Stupid?’

  Omi leaned forward to whisper.

  ‘You know stupid. Ish will kill you, or her dad will. Or any man who is related to her will. Remember that guy in the car? Trust me, you don’t want to be that boy, or that car.’

  ‘Well, it’s nothing really. Just good friends,’ I said and looked towards the toilet.

  ‘Just good friends should be a banned phrase. There is nothing more misleading. You are her teacher damn it. And how old is she? Seventeen?’

  ‘Turns eighteen in a few months.’

  ‘Oh great,’ Omi said.

  Ish came out of the toilet. He cracked a joke with the Aussie guys playing pool.

  I turned to Omi.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid. She sucks at maths. I don’t know why I agreed to teach her in the first place.’

  ‘Then stop teaching her no?’ Omi said.

  ‘Can we get lunch, I really want to get lunch,’ I said and flipped the menu.

  ‘I am just saying…’

  ‘Ish,’ I screamed across the bar, ‘What do you want? Garlic bread is the cheapest item on the menu.’

  ‘Whatever, I trust you,’ he screamed back as he continued to play pool with the Aussie guys.

  His last phrase bobbed up and down in my head like the surfboards on Bondi beach.

  ‘These houses are huge,’ I said as we drove past a rich neighbourhood called Double Bay.

  Fred had picked us up for breakfast on Sunday, our last day. Ish, Omi and Ali sat at the ba