The 3 Mistakes Of My Life (13 page)

'What to do? He had a bungalow in Srinagar and a fifty-year. old almond

business. Now, see what times have come to, kicked out of our own homes,'

Pandit-ji sighed and took out the bats for repair from the gunny bag.

I hated sympathy in business deals. We settled for two hundred and seventy

after some more haggling. 'Done,' I said and took out the money. I dealt in

thousands now, but imagined that transacting in lakhs and crores wouldn't be

that different.

Pandit-ji took the money, brushed it against the mini-temple in his godown and

put it in his pocket. His God had made him pay a big price in life, but he still felt

grateful to him. I could never understand this absolute faith that believers

possess. Maybe I missed something by being agnostic.

Eight

Ali reached practice twenty minutes late. Every delayed minute made Ish more

pissed.

'You are wearing kurta pajama, where is your kit?' Ish screamed as Ali walked

in at 7.20 a.m.

'Sorry, woke up late. I didn't get time and...'

'Do your rounds,' Ish said and stood in the centre of the bank's courtyard.

When Ali finished his rounds, Ish unwrapped a new bat for him.

'For you, brand new from Kashmir. Like it?'

Ali nodded without interest. 'Can I leave early today?'

'Why?' Ish snapped.

'There is a marble competition in my pol.' 'And what about cricket?' Ali

shrugged.

'First you come late, then you want to go early. What is the point of marbles?'

Ish said as he signalled him to take the crease. One of the three other boys

became the bowler.

'We will start with catching practice. Ali, no shots, give them catches.'

Ali's self-control had become better after training for a few months. Ish had

taught him to play defensive and avoid getting out. With better diet and exercise,

Ali's stamina had improved. He gained the strength to hit the ball rather than rely

on momentum. Once Ali faced five balls in a restrained manner, he could sharpen

his focus to use his gift. The trick was to use his ability at a lever that scored yet

sustained him at the crease. One ball an over worked well. Ish now wanted him to

get to two balls an over.

'Switch. Paras to bat, Ali to field,' Ish shouted after three overs. Ali didn't hit

any big shots. Disappointed, he threw the bat on| the crease.

'Hey, watch it. It is a new bat,' Ish said.

Paras batted a catch towards Ali, whose hands were busy tightening the cords

of his pajama. The ball thunked down on the ground.

'You sleeping or what?' Ish said but Ali ignored him. Three balls later, Paras set

up a catch for Ali again. 'Hey, Ali, catch,' Ish screamed from his position at the

umpire.

Ali had one hand in his pocket. He noticed Ish staring at him and lifted up his

hand in a cursory manner. Two steps and he could have caught the ball. He

didn't, and the ball landed on the ground.

'Hey,' Ish shook Ali's shoulder hard. 'You dreaming?' 'I want to leave early,' Ali

said, rubbing his shoulder. 'Finish practice first.'

'Here Ali, bat,' Paras said as he came close to Ali. 'No he has to field,' Ish said.

'It is ok, Ish bhaiya. I know he wants to bat,' Paras said and gave Ali the bat.

And I want to practice more catches. I need to get good before my school match.'

Ali took the bat, walked to the crease without looking up. Disconcerted by this

insolence, Ish rued spoiling the boy with gifts - sometimes kits, sometimes bats.

Ish allowed Ali to bat again upon Paras' insistence. 'Lift it for I'aras, gentle to

the left.'

The ball arrived, Ali whacked it hard. Like his spirit, the ball Hew out of the

bank. 'I want to go.' Ali stared at Ish with his green eyes.

'I don't care about your stupid marble tournament. No marble player ever

became great,' Ish shouted.

'Well, you also never became great,' Ali said. Ouch, kids and their bitter truth.

Ish froze. His arm trembled. With perfect timing like Ali's bat, Ish's right hand

swung and slapped Ali's face hard. The impact and shock made Ali fall on the

ground.

Everyone stood erect as they heard the slap.

Ali sat up on the ground and sucked his breath to fight tears.

'Go play your fucking marbles,' Ish said and deposited a slap again. I ran

behind to pull Ish's elbow. Ali broke into tears. I bent down to pick up Ali. I tried

to hug him, as his less-strict maths tutor. He pushed me away.

'Go away,' Ali said, crying as he kicked me with his tiny legs, I don't want you.'

'Ali, quiet buddy. Come, let's go up, we will do some fun sums,' I said. Oops,

wrong thing to say to a kid who had just been whacked.

'I don't want to do sums,' Ali glared back at me.

'Yeah, don't want to field. Don't want to do sums. Lazy freak show wants to

play marbles all day,' Ish spat out.

I felt it was stupid of Ish to argue with a twelve-year-old.

'Everyone go home, we practice tomorrow,' I said.

'No, we have to...,' Ish to said.

'Ish, go inside the bank,' I said.

'I don't like him,' Ali said, still in tears.

'Ali behave. This is no way to speak to your coach. Now go home,' I said.

I exhaled a deep breath as everyone left. Maybe God sent me here to be

everyone's parent.

★

'What the fuck is wrong with you? He is a kid,' I said to Ish after everyone left. I

made lemonade in the kitchen to calm Ish down Ish stood next to me.

'Brat, thinks he has a gift,' Ish said.

'He does,' I said and passed him his drink, 'hey, can you order another LPG

cylinder. This one is almost over,' I said. We did have a kerosene stove, but it was

a pain to cook on that.

We came to the cashier's waiting area to sit on the sofas.

Ish kept quiet. He held back something. I wasn't sure if it was tears, as I had

never seen Ish cry.

'I shouldn't have hit him,' he said after drinking half a glass.

I nodded.

'But did you see his attitude? "You never became great." Can

you imagine if I had said it to my coach?'

'He is just a twelve-year-old. Don't take him seriously,'

'He doesn't care man. He has it in him to make to the national

team. But all he wants to do is play his fucking marbles.'

'He enjoys marbles. He doesn't enjoy cricket, yet.'

Ish finished his drink and tossed the plastic glass in the kitchen sink. We

locked the bank's main door and the gate and walked towards our shop.

'It is so fucking unfair,' Ish said, 'I slaved for years. I gave up my future for this

game. Nothing came of it. And you have this kid who is born with this talent he

doesn't even care about.'

'What do you mean nothing came of it? You were the best player in school for

years.'

'Yeah, in Belrampur Municipal School, that's like saying Vidya is the Preity

Zinta of our pol. Who cares?'

'What?' I said and couldn't control a smile.

'Nothing, our aunt once called her that, and I keep teasing her on it,' Ish said.

His mood lightened up a little. We came close to our shop. The temple dome

became visible.

'Why does God do this Govind?' Ish said.

'Do what?'

'Give so much talent to some people. And people like me have none.'

'You are talented.'

'Not enough. Not as much as Ali. I love this game, but have no gifts. I pushed

myself - woke up at 4
a.m. everyday, training for hours, practice and more

practice. I gave up studies, and now that I think of it, even my future. And then

comes this marble player who has this freakish gift. I could never see the ball and

whack it like Ali. Why Govind?'

Continuing my job as the parent of my friends, I had to try and answer every

silly question of his. 'I don't know. God gives talent so that the ordinary person

can become extraordinary. Talent is the only way the poor can become rich.

Otherwise, in this world the rich would remain rich and the poor would remain

poor. This unfair talent actually creates a balance, helps to make the world fair,' I

said. I reflected on my own statement a little.

'So why doesn't he care? Marbles? Can you believe the boy is more interested

in marbles?'

'He hasn't seen what he can get out of cricket. Right now he is the marble

champ in his pol and loves that position. Once he experiences the same success

in cricket, he will value his gift Until now, he was a four ball freak show. You will

turn him into a player Ish,' I said.

We reached the shop. Omi had reached before us and swept the floor. He

missed coming to coaching, but he had promised his Mama to attend the

morning rallies at least twice a week. Today was one of those days.

'Good practice?' Omi asked idly as he ordered tea.

Ish went inside. I put a finger on my lips to signal Omi to be quiet.

A ten-year-old came with thirty coins to buy a cricket ball.

'A leather ball is twenty-five bucks. You only have twenty-one,' I said as I

finished the painful task of counting the coins.

'I broke the piggy bank. I don't have anymore,' the boy said very seriously.

'Then come later,' I said as Ish interrupted me.

'Take it,' Ish said and gave the boy the ball.

The boy grabbed it and ran away.

'Fuck you Ish,' I said.

'Fuck you businessman,' Ish said and continued to sulk about Ali in the

corner.



It took Ish one box of chocolates, two dozen marbles and a new sports cap to

woo Ali back. Ali missed us, too. His mother told us he cried for two hours that

day and never attended the marble tournament. He hadn't come for practice the

next two days either. Ish's guilt pangs had turned into an obsession. Ali had an

apology ready - probably stage-managed by his mother. He touched Ish's feet and

said sorry for insulting his guru. Ish hugged him and Have the gifts. Ish said he'd

cut off his hand rather than hit him again. All too melodramatic if you ask me.

The point was Ali came back, this time more serious, and Ish mellowed

somewhat. Ali's cricket improved, and other students suggested we take him to

the district trials.

Ish vetoed the idea. 'No way, the selection people will destroy him. If they reject

him, he is going to be disappointed forever. If they accept him, they will make him

play useless matches for several years. He will go for selections, but only the big

one - the national team.'

'Really? You confident he will make it,' Omi said, passing us lassi in steel

glasses after practice.

'He will be a player like India never had,' Ish announced. It sounded a bit mad,

but we had seen Ali demolish the best of bowlers, even if for a few balls. Two more

years and Ish could well be right.

'Don't talk about Ali's gift at all. I don't trust anyone.' Ish wiped his lassi

moustache.



'Excuses don't clear exams, Vidya. If you study this, it will help. Nothing else

will.' I opened the chemistry book again.

'I tried,' she said and pushed back her open hair. She had not bathed. She had

a track pant on that I think she had been wearing since she was thirteen and a

pink T-shirt that said 'fairy queen' or something. How can a grown-up woman

wear something that says 'fairy queen'? How can anyone wear something that

says 'fairy queen'?

'I pray everyday. That should help,' she said.

I didn't know whether to laugh or flip my fuse again at her nonchalance. Maybe

if she didn't look like a cute ragdoll in those clothes, I would have lost my temper

again.

'Don't leave it to God, nothing like reading organic chemistry yourself,' I said.

She nodded and moved her chair, as a bottle fell over on the ground.

'Oops,' she said and bent down.

'What?' I stood up in reflex. It was a bottle of coconut oil, fortunately closed.

'Nothing, I thought I'll oil my hair,' she said and lifted the blue bottle.

I looked at her face. My gaze lasted a quarter second more than necessary.

There is an optimal time for looking at women before it gets counted as a stare. I

had crossed that threshold. Self-consciously she tugged at the T-shirt's neckline

as she sat back up. The tug was totally due to me. I didn't look there at all, but

she thought I did. I felt sick.

'Coconut oil,' I said, probably the dumbest thing to say but it changed the

topic.

'Yes, a bit of organic chemistry for my head. Maybe this will help.'

I flipped the book's pages to see how benzene became oxidised.

'When is your birthday?' she said. '14 March,' I replied. 'Pi Day.' 'What day?'

'Pi Day. You see, Pi approximates to 3.14 so 14 March is the same date. It is

Einstein's birthday, too. Cool, isn't it?'

'A day for Pi? How can you have a day for something so horrible?'

'Excuse me? It is an important day for maths lovers. We never make it public

though. You can say you love literature, you can say you love music but you can't

say you feel the same way for maths.'