The 3 Mistakes of My Life Read online

  ‘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