Read The 3 Mistakes Of My Life Online
Authors: Chetan Bhagat
The University Bookstore in Navrangpura was a temple for all muggers in the
city. Nearly all customers were sleep deprived, overzealous students who'd never
have enough of quantum physics or calculus. They don't provide statistics, but I
am sure anyone who clears the engineering and medical entrance exams in the
city has visited the bookstore.
The middle-aged shopkeeper looked at Vidya through his glasses. She was
probably the best looking customer to visit that month. Students who prepared
for medical entrance don't exactly wear coloured lip gloss.
'Ahem, excuse me,' I said as the shopkeeper scanned Vidya up and down.
'Govind beta, so nice to see you,' he said. One good way old people get away
with leching is by branding you their son or daughter. He knew my name ever
since I scored a hundred in the board exam. In the newspaper interview I had
recommended his shop. He displayed the cutting for two years after that. I still
get a twenty-five per cent discount on every purchase.
'You have organic chemistry by L.G.Wade?' I said. I would have done more
small talk, but I wanted to avoid talking about Vidya. In fact, I didn't even want
him to look at Vidya.
'Well, yes,' the shopkeeper said, taken aback by my abruptness.
'Chemistry book, red and white balls on the cover,' he screamed .it one of his
five assistants.
'This is a good book,' I said as I tapped the cover and gave it to Vidya. 'Other
organic chemistry books have too much to memorise. This one explains the
principles.'
Vidya took the book in her hand. Her red nail polish was the same colour as
the atoms on the cover.
'Flip through it, see if you like it,' I said.
She turned a few pages. The shopkeeper raised an eyebrow. He was asking me
about the girl. See this is the reason why people think Ahmedabad is a small
town despite the multiplexes. It is the mentality of the people.
'Student, I take tuitions,' I whispered to satisfy his curiosity lest he gave up
sleeping for the rest of his life. He nodded his head in approval.
Why do these old
people poke their nose in our affairs so much? Like, would we care if he hung out
with three grandmas?
'If you say it is good, I am fine,' she said, finishing her scan. 'Good, and in
physics, have you ever read Resnick and Halliday?'
'Oh, I saw that book at my friend's place once. Just the table of contents
depressed me. It's too hi-fi for me.'
'What is this "hi-fi"? It is in your course, you have to study it,' I said, my voice
stern.
'Don't they have some guides or something?' she said, totally ignoring my
comment.
'Guides are a short cut. They solve a certain number of problems. You need to
understand the concepts.'
The shopkeeper brought out the orange and black cover Resnick and Halliday.
Yes, the cover was scary and dull at the same time, something possible only in
physics books.
'I won't understand it. But if you want to, let's buy it,' Vidya agreed.
'Of course, you will understand it. And uncle, for maths do you have M.L.
Khanna?'
I could see his displeasure in me calling him uncle, but someone needed to
remind him.
'Maths Khanna,' the shopkeeper shouted. His assistants pulled out the yellow
and black tome. Now if Resnick and Halliday is scary, M.L. Khanna is the
Exorcist. I haven't seen a thicker book and every page is filled with the hardest
maths problems in the world. It was amusing that a person with a friendly name
like M.L Khanna could do this to the students of our country.
'What is this?' Vidya said and tried to lift the book with her left hand. She
couldn't. She used both hands and finally took it six inches off the ground. 'No,
seriously, what is this? An assault weapon?'
'It covers every topic,' I said and measured the thickness with the fingers of my
right hand, the four fingers fell short.
She held her hand sideways over mine to assist.
'Six, it is six fingers thick,' she said softly.
I pulled my hand out, lest uncle raise his eyebrows again, or worst case join his
hand to ours to check the thickness.
'Don't worry, for the medical entrance you only have to study a few topics,' I
reassured her.
We paid for the books and came out of the shop.
We walked on the Navrangpura main road. My new shop was two hundred
metres away. I had the urge to go see it.
'Now what?' she said.
'Nothing, let's go home,' I said and looked for an auto. 'You are a big bore,
aren't you?' she said. 'Excuse me?' I said.
'Dairy Den is round the corner. I'm hungry,' she said.
'I am starving. Seriously, I am famished.' She kept a hand on her stomach. She
wore three rings, each with different designs and tiny, multi-coloured stones.
I took the least visible seat in Dairy Den. Sure, no one from our gossip-loving
pol came to this hip teen joint, but one could never be too careful. If a supplier
saw me at Dairy Den, I would be like any other trendy young boy in Ahmedabad.
I would never get a good price for cricket balls.
I felt hungry too. But I couldn't match the drama-queen in histrionics. She
ordered a Den's special pizza, which had every topping available in Dairy Den's
kitchen. All dishes were vegetarian, as preferred by Ambavadis.
'These books look really advanced,' she said, pointing to the plastic bag.
'They are MSc books,' I said.
She raised her eyebrows. 'Can someone explain to me why seventeen-year-olds
are made to read MSc books in this country?'
I shrugged. I had no answers for lazy students.
The pizza arrived. We kept quiet and started eating it. I looked at her. She tied
her hair, so that it would not fall on the pizza and touch the cheese. She kept her
dupatta away from the table and on the chair. The great thing about girls is that
even during pauses in the conversation you can look at them and not get bored.
She looked sideways as she became conscious of two boys on a faraway table
staring at her. It wasn't surprising, considering she was the best looking girl in
Dairy Den by a huge margin. Why are there so few pretty girls? Why hadn't
evolution figured it out that men liked pretty women and turned them all out that
way?
She checked her phone for any new SMSs. She didn't need to as her phone
beeped louder than a fire alarm everytime there was one. She pulled back her
sleeve and lifted a slice of pizza. She used her fingers to lift the strands of cheese
that had fallen out and placed them back on the slice. Finally she took a bite.
'So, what's up?' she broke the silence. 'Are we allowed to talk about anything
apart from science subjects?'
'Of course,' I said. I glared at the boys at the other table. They didn't notice me.
'We are not that far apart in age. We could be friends, you know,' she said.
'Well,' I said, 'tough, isn't it?'
'Tough? Give me one reason why?'
'I will give you four - (1) I am your teacher (2) you are my best friend's sister (3)
you are younger than me, and (4) you are a girl.'
I felt stupid stating my reasons in bullet points. There is a reason why nerds
can't impress girls. They don't know how to talk.
She laughed at me rather than with me.
'Sorry for the list. Can't get numbers out of my system,' I said.
She laughed. 'It tells me something. You have thought it out. That means, you
have considered a potential friendship.'
I remained silent.
'I am kidding,' she said and tapped my hand. She had this habit of soothing
people by touching them. With normal people it would've been ok, but with sick
people like me, female touches excite more than soothe. I felt the urge to look at
her face again. I turned determinedly to the pizza instead.
'But seriously, you should have a backup friend,' she said.
'Backup what?'
'You, Ish and Omi are really close. Like you have known each other since you
were sperm.'
My mouth fell open at her last word. Vidya was supposed to be Ish's little sister
who played with dolls. Where did she learn to talk like that?
'Sorry, I meant Ish and Omi are your best friends. But if you have to bitch ...
oops, rant about them, who do you do it with?' 'I don't need to rant about my
friends,' I said. 'C'mon, are they perfect?' 'No one is perfect.'
'Like Garima and I are really close. We talk twice a day. But sometimes she
ignores me, or talks to me like I am some naive small town girl. I hate it, but she
is still my best friend.'
'And?' I said. Girls talk in circles. Like an algebra problem, it takes a few steps
to get them to the point.
'And, talking about it to you, venting, like this, makes me feel better. And I can
forgive her. So, even though she is a much closer friend of mine, you became a
backup friend.'
If she applied as much brain in maths, no one could stop her from becoming a
surgeon. But Vidya who could micro-analyse relationships for hours, would not
open M.L. Khanna to save her life.
'So, c'mon, what's the one rant you have about your best friends?'
'My friends are my business partners, too. So it's complicated,' I paused.
'Sometimes I don't think they understand business. Or may be they do, but they
don't understand the passion I bring to it.'
She nodded. I loved that nod. For once, someone had nodded at something I
felt so deeply about.
'How?' she egged me on.
Over the last few scraps of pizza, I told her everything. I told her about our
shop, and how I managed everything. How I had expanded the business to offer
tuitions and coaching. I told her about Ish's irritating habit of giving discounts to
kids and Omi's dumbness in anything remotely connected to numbers. And
finally, I told her about my dream - to get out of the old city and have a new shop
in an air-conditioned mall, i
'Navrangpura,' she said, 'near here?'
'Yes,' I said, as my chest expanded four inches.
She saw the glitter in my eyes, as I could see it reflected in hers.
'Good you never did engineering. Though 1 am sure you would have got in,' she
said.
'I can't see myself in an office. And leaving mom and her business alone was
not an option.'
I had opened up more than I ever had to anyone in my life. This wasn't right, I
chided myself. I mentally repeated the four reasons and poked the pile of books.
'More than me, you need to be friends with these books,' I said and asked for
the bill.
'Coming,' a girl responded as Ishaan rang the bell of our supplier's home. We
had come to purchase new bats and get old ones repaired.
Saira, supplier Pandit-ji's eighteen-year-old daughter, opened the door.
'Papa is getting dressed, you can wait in the garage,' she said, handing us the
key to Pandit-ji's warehouse store. We went to the garage and sat on wooden
stools. Ish dumped the bats for repair on the floor.
The Pandit Sports Goods Suppliers was located in Ellis Bridge. The owner,
Giriraj Pandit, had his one-room house right next to it
.
Until five years ago, he
owned a large bat factory in Kashmir. That was before he was kicked out of his
hometown by militants who gave him the choice of saving his neck or his factory.
Today be felt blessed being a small supplier in Ahmedabad with his family still
alive.
'Kashmiris are so fair complexioned,' I said to make innocuous conversation.
'You like her,' Ish grinned.
Are you nuts?'
'Fair-complexioned, eh?' Ish began to laugh.
'Govind bhai, my best customer,' Pandit-ji said as he came into the warehouse,
fresh after a bath. He offered us green almonds. It is nice to be a buyer in
business. Everybody welcomes you.
'We need six bats, and these need repairs,' I said.
'Take a dozen Govind bhai,' he said and opened a wooden trunk, the India-
Australia series is coming, demand will be good.'
'Not in the old city,' I said.
He opened the wooden trunk and took out a bat wrapped in plastic. He opened
the bat. It smelled of fresh willow. Sometimes hat makers used artificial fragrance
to make new bats smell good, hut Pandit-ji was the real deal.
Ish examined the bat. He went to the box and checked the other bats for cracks
and chips.
'The best of the lot for you Govind bhai,' Pandit-ji smiled heartily.
'How much,' I said.
'Three hundred.'
'Joking?'
'Never,' he swore.
'Two hundred fifty,' I said, 'last and final.'
'Govind bhai, it is a bit tough right now. My cousin's family has arrived from
Kashmir, they've lost everything. I have five more mouths to feed until he finds a
job and place.'
'They are all living in that room?' Ish was curious.