'It's ok. I like the tag. Makes it clear that studies are first,
right?'
I nodded.
'How are you doing?'
I overcame my urge to turn to the wall. 'Life goes on. It has to. Maybe an air-conditioned mall is not for me.'
'Of course, it is. It isn't your fault. I am sure you will get 1 here one day. Think about this, aren't you lucky you weren't in the shop already when it happened? Imagine the lives lost if the mall was open?'
She had a point. I had to get over this. I had to re-accept liittoo Mama's smug face.
I returned her M.L. Khanna and kept the card under my pillow.
'Ish said you haven't come to the shop.'
'The shop is open?' I said. Ish and Omi met me every evening but never mentioned it.
'Yeah, you should see bhaiya struggle with the accounts at home. Take tuitions for him, too,' she giggled. 'I'll leave now. About my classes, no rush really.'
'I'll be there next Wednesday,' I called out.
'Nice girl,' my mother said carefully. 'You like her?'
'No. Horrible student.'
Ish and Omi came at night when I had finished my unappetising dinner of boiled vegetables.
'How are you running the shop?' my energetic voice surprised them.
'You sound better,' Ish said.
'Who is doing the accounts?' I said and sat up.
Omi pointed at Ish.
'And? What is it? A two for one sale?'
'We haven't given any discounts all week,' Ish said and sat next to me on the bed.
Ish pulled at my pillow to be more comfortable. 'Wait,' I said, jamming the pillow with my elbow.
'What's that?' Ish said and smiled as he saw an inch of pink paper under my pillow.
'Nothing. None of your business,' I said. Of course it was his business, it was his sister.
'Card?' Omi said.
'Yes, from my cousin,' I said.
'Are you sure?' Ish came to tickle me, to release my death grip on the pillow.
'.Stop it', I said, trying to appear light hearted. My heart beat fast as I pinned the pillow down hard.
'Pandit's daughter, isn't it?' Omi chuckled.
'Whatever,' I said, sitting on the pillow as a desperate measure.
'Mixing business with pleasure?' Ish said and laughed. I joined in the laughter to encourage the deception. 'Come back,' Ish said.
'The loans ... It's all my fault,' I told the wall. 'Mama said we can continue to use the shop,' Omi said. 'No conditions?' I said, surprised. 'Not really,' Omi said. 'And that means?' 'It is understood we need to help him in his campaign,' Ish said. 'Don't worry, you don't have to do anything. Omi and I will help.'
'We have to pay his loan back fast. We have to,' I said.
'We'll get over this,' Ish looked me in the eye. Brave words, but for the first time believable.
'I am sorry I invested...,' I felt I had to apologise, but Omi interrupted me.
'We did it together as business partners. And you are the smartest of us.'
I was not sure if his last line was correct anymore. I was a disaster as a businessman. 'See you tomorrow,' I said.
After they left, I pulled out the card again and smoothed the ceases. I read the card eight times before falling asleep.
My break from work brought out hidden skills in my friends. Save a few calculation errors, they managed the accounts just fine. They tabulated daily sales, had their prices right and had offered no discounts. The shop was clean and things were easy to find. Maybe one day I could create businesses and be hands-off. I checked myself from dreaming again. India is not a place for dreams. Especially when you have failed once. I finally saw the sense inherent in the Hindu philosophy of being satisfied with what one had, rather than yearn for more. It wasn't some cool philosophy that ancient sages invented, but a survival mantra in a country where desires are routinely crushed. This shop in the temple
was my destiny, and earning that meagre income from it my karma. More was not meant to be. I breathed out, felt better and opened the cash drawer.
'Pretty low for two weeks. But first the earthquake, and now the India-Australia series,' Ish said from his corner.
'People really don't have a reason to play anymore,' Omi said.
'No, no. It's fine. What's happening in the series?' I said. I had lost track of the cricket schedule.
'India lost the first test. Two more to go. The next one is in Calcutta,' Ish said.
'Damn. One-days?'
'Five of them, yet to start,' Omi said. 'I wouldn't get my hopes high. These Australians are made of something else.'
'I'd love to know how the Australians do it,' Ish said.
Mama's arrival broke up our chat. 'Samosas, hot, careful,' he said, placing a brown bag on the counter.
In my earlier avatar, this was my cue to frown, to comment about the grease spoiling the counter. However, the new post-quake Govind no longer saw Mama as hostile. We sat in the sunny courtyard having tea and samosas. They tasted delicious, I think samosas are the best snack known to man.
'Try to forget what happened,' Mama sighed. 'I have never seen such devastation.'
'How was your trip?' Omi said. Mama had just returned from Bhuj. 'Misery everywhere. We need camps all over Gujarat. But how much can Parekh-ji do?'
Mama had stayed up nights to set up the makeshift relief camp at the Belrampur school. Parekh-ji had sent truckloads of grain, pulses and other supplies. People had finally begun to move out and regain their lives.
'We'll close the camp in three weeks,' Mama said to Omi, 'and I can go back to my main cause, Ayodhya.'
The camp had won Mama many fans in the neighbourhood, Technically, anyone could seek refuge. However, a Muslim family would rarely go there for help. Even if they did, camp managers handed out rations but emphasised that everyone in the camp was a Hindu. Despite this soft discrimination, the new-me found it a noble exercise.
'Mama, about your loan,' I turned to him, but he did not hear me.
'My son is coming with me to Ayodhya. You guys should join,' he said. He saw our reluctant faces and added, 'I mean after you restore the business.'
'We can help here, Mama,' Omi said. 'Is there any project after 1 he camp?'
'Oh yes, the spoonful of mud campaign,' Mama said. We looked puzzled.
'We are going to Ayodhya for a reason. We will get gunnybags full of soil from there. We will go to every Hindu house in Belrampur and ask them if they want a spoon of mud from Rama's birthplace in their house. They can put it in their backyard, mix it with plants or whatever. A great idea from Parekh-ji.'
I saw Parekh-ji's twisted but impeccable logic. No one would say no to a spoonful of soil from Ayodhya. But with that, they were inadvertently buying into the cause. Sympathy for people fighting for Ayodhya would be automatic. And sympathy converted well into votes.
Mama noted the cynicism in my expression.
'Only a marketing strategy for a small campaign. The other party does it at a far bigger scale.'
I picked up another samosa.
'It's ok, Mama. Politics confuses me,' I said. 'I can't comment. We will help you. You have saved our livelihood, we are forever indebted.'
'You are my kids. How can you be indebted to your father?' 'Business is down, but on the revised loan instalments...,' but Mama cut me again.
'Forget it, sons. You faced a calamity. Pay when you can. And now you are members of our party, right?'
Mama stood up to hug us. I half-heartedly hugged him back, I felt sick owing people money. 'Mama, I am sorry. 1 was arrogant, rude and disrespectful. I realise my destiny is this shop. Maybe God intended it this way and I accept it,' 1 said.
'We are all like that when young. But you have started believing in God?' Mama said and beamed.
'I'm just less agnostic now.'
'Son, this is the best news I've heard today,' Mama said. 'Something good has come out of all this loss.'
A man dragged a heavy wooden trunk into our shop. 'Who's that? Oh, Pandit-ji?' I said.
Pandit-ji panted, his white face a rosy red. He arranged the trunk on the floor. 'A sports shop closed down. The guy could not pay. He paid me with trunks full of goods. I need cash, so I thought I will bring this to you.'
'I have no cash either,' I said as I offered him a samosa. 'Pandit-ji, business is terrible.'
'Who's asking you for cash now? Just keep it in your shop. I'll send one more trunk. Whatever sells, you keep half and give me half. Just this one trunk is worth ten thousand. I have six more at home. What say?'
I took in the trunks as I had no risk. We needed a miracle to move that many goods. Of course, I wasn't aware that the second test match of the India Australia series would be one.
Mama introduced himself to Pandit-ji. They started talking like grown-ups do, exchanging hometowns, castes and sub-castes.
'We are late,' Ish whispered, but loud enough for Mama and Pandit-ji to hear.
'You have to go somewhere?' Mama said.
'Yes, to a cricket match. One of the students we coach is playing,' Ish said, avoiding Ali's name.
Omi downed the shutters of the shop. Omi signalled and all of us bent to touch Mama's feet.
'My sons,' Mama said as he held a palm over our heads and blessed us.
Don't worry about that idiot from that stupid team. You creamed them,' Ish said to Ali.
We returned from a neighbourhood match. Ali's side had won with him scoring the highest. Ali lasted eight overs. Ish looked pleased that the training was finally showing results. However, our celebratory mood dampened as the opposing team's captain kicked Ali in the knee before running away.
'Will they hurt me again?' Ali said.
'No, because I will hurt them before anyone touches you,' Ish said, kissing Ali's forehead, Ish would make a good father. Not like his own father who never said one pleasant sentence.
Omi picked up a limping Ali. 'I'll take him to the shop,' Omi said. 'And ask ma to make him some turmeric milk. You guys get dinner, whatever he wants.'
'I want kebabs,' Ali said promptly.
'Kebabs? In the shop?' I hesitated.
'Fine, just don't tell anyone,' Omi said.
'He's ready,' Ish said. His face glowed behind the smoke of roasting kebabs at Qazi dhaba. 'Did you see him play? He can wait, run and support others. He plays along until time comes for the big hits. Fielding sucks, but other than that, he is perfect. He is ready, man.' The smell of chicken tikka filled my nostrils. Omi was really missing a lot in life. 'For what?' I asked.
'Australia is touring India at present, right?' Ish said as the waiter packed our order of rumali rotis, lamb skewers and chicken tikka with onions and green chutney. 'So?' I said.
'He is ready to meet the Australians.'
Ten
India vs Australia Test Match Kolkata, 11-15 March 2001
Day 1
Most of the time crap happens in life. However, sometimes miracles do too. To us, the second test match of the India-Australia series was the magic cure for the quake. I remember every day of that match. Ish continued with his weird and highly improbable ideas of making Ali meet the Australian team.
'Meet the Australians?' Omi said as he dusted the counter. Ish and I sat on the floor in front of the TV.
'They are in India,' Ish said. He pointed to the Australian team batting on the screen. 'When are we ever going to get a chance like this?'
'Is he mad?' Omi asked me.
'Of course, he is. What will you do by meeting them? Really?' I joined in.
'I want to get their opinion on Ali.' 'How?' Omi said as he sat down with us.
'We will go see a match. Maybe a one-day,' Ish said.
'There is no money for trips,' I said.
'The one-day series will continue for the next two months. If business picks up, then we could,' Ish said.
'They are raping us again. Fuck, business is never going to pick up,' I said as I saw the score. On the first day at tea, Australia's score was 193/1.
'If it does. I said if, Ish said, upset at the score more than
me.
'So we go see a match. Then what? Knock on Hayden's door and say, "Hey, check this kid out." How do you intend to meet them?' I mocked.
'I don't know,' Ish turned to the screen, scowling. 'Bowl better, guys.'
'Excuse me, are you watching the India-Australia match?' a lady's voice interrupted us.
An elderly woman stood at the counter with a puja thali in her hand.
'Yes?'
'Can my grandson watch it with you for a while?' she said.
I stood up from the floor. A small boy accompanied the lady. I was never keen on random people coming into our shop to spend their time. She sensed my hesitation. 'We'll buy something. I want to attend the bhajans inside and Babloo wants to see the match.'
'Of course, he can come in.' Ish opened the door wider. The boy came in and sat before the TV. Ish and I exchanged a round of dirty looks.
'Don't watch from so close Babloo. Hello, I am Mrs Ganguly by the way. I also need advice on buying cricket equipment for my school, if you can visit me sometime.'
'School?' I said.
'Yes, I am the principal of the Kendriya Vidyalaya on Ellisbridge. We never had good suppliers for sports. Everybody thinks we are government so they try and rip us off. You supply to schools, no?'
The answer was no. We did not supply to schools.
'Yes,' I said. 'In fact, we have our inhouse advisor Ishaan. He is an ex-district level player.'
'Great. I will see you then,' Mrs Ganguly said and left us to ponder over her business proposition.
'You want candy, Babloo?' Omi said as we tried our best to impress anyone related to Mrs Ganguly.
'But we are not suppliers,' Ish said later.
'So what? You have to swing this for me, Ish. This is a regular income business.'
'If I get you this, will you come to Goa?'
'Goa?' I raised my eyebrows.
'It's the last one-day. I am stretching it out as far as I can. If we save enough, let's go with Ali.' 'But...' 'Say yes.'
'Yes,' I said. After the mall fiasco, I wanted to make Ish happy. I stood up to check the day's accounts.
'Cool. Hey, see the match?' Ish said. Tt has totally turned.'
I looked at the TV. Perhaps God listened to Mrs Ganguly's prayers inside. A little known Surd called Harbhajan Singh had howled after tea. Wickets crumbled and from 193/1, Australia ended the day at 291/8.
'Bhajji, you are great,' Ish bent forward to kiss the TV.
'Don't watch the TV from so close,' Babloo said.
'Don't listen to grown-ups all the time. Nobody went blind watching TV from close. Don't people work on computers?' Ish was jumping up and down in excitement.
Mrs Ganguly came in two hours later to pick up Babloo. She bought him two tennis balls. I was tempted to throw them in for free, but she might take it the wrong way.
'Here,' she said, giving me her card. 'We have a board meeting every Monday. Why don't you come and tell us how you can help?'
We had four days to prepare. The board would be in a better mood if India won this match.
'Sure, we will see you then,' I said and slipped a candy to Babloo.
Day 2
The only way to describe the second day of the match was 'depressing'. From 291/8, Australia dragged on their first innings to end at a healthy 445 all out. The Indians came out to bat and opener Ramesh got out for no score.
'Who the fuck is this Ramesh? Connection quota,' Ish said.
But it wasn't only Ramesh who sucked. Tendulkar scored ten, others even less. Dravid scored the highest at twenty-five. The second day ended with India at 128/8.
Ish tore his chapattis with anger over dinner. 'These Australians must be thinking - why even bother to come and play with India.'
'Pray for a draw. With a draw there is hope of sales. Else we should change our business. Sports is the wrong choice in our country.' I passed the daal to Omi.
'They have twenty million people. We have one billion, growing at two per cent a year. Heck, we create an Australia every year. Still, they cream us. Something is wrong about this.'
'Should we open another flower shop? There will always be a demand for that in a temple,' I said.
Ish ignored me. He mumbled something about avoiding a follow-on, which looked pretty difficult.
Day 3
The next morning I don't know why we even bothered to switch on the TV. India struggled to stretch their first innings, but packed up before lunch at 171 all out. 'And the Australians have asked India to follow on,' the commentator said and I slapped my forehead. A defeat in a test match was one thing, but an innings defeat meant empty parks for weeks. Kids would rather read textbooks than play cricket and be reminded of India's humiliation. Why on earth had I started this business? What an idiot I am? Why couldn't I open a sweet shop instead? Indians would always eat sweets. Why sports? Why cricket?
'That's fucking-follow-on-fantastic,' Ish said, inventing his own phrases for the moment. He clenched his fist and came dangerously 1 lose to the TV. 'We had them by their balls at 291/8, and now l hey ask us to follow on?'
'Should we turn off the TV?' I said. Should we close the shop for good? I thought.
'Wait, I want to see this. I want to see how our team makes eye contact when they lose so badly,' Ish said.
'They are not making eye contact. You are just watching them on TV,' Omi said.
'If this match is a draw, I will treat you all to dinner. Ok, two dinners,' Ish said.
For its second innings, India made one change. It replaced the opener Ramesh with another new guy called Laxman.
'The team is full of people with contacts. Everyone is getting their turn today,' Ish said as the Indian openers took the crease for the second follow-on innings.
But Laxman connected with the ball and bat. He slammed four after four. At the end of the third day, India stood at a respectable 254/4. Adding that to the first innings score of 171, India needed only 20 runs to match Australia's first innings of 445. An innings defeat looked unlikely, and, yes, we could even draw now.
'See, that's what the Indian team does. Right when you give up hope, they get you involved again,' Ish said at dinner.
'You were going to see all days anyway. Please think about our Monday meeting,' I said.
'Laxman's job is not done. He needs to be around if we wan a draw,' Ish said.
I sighed. I would have to prepare for the school meeting by myself.
Day 4
If there was a day that India dominated world cricket, it was on the fourth day of the match. Yes, India won the World Cup on 25 June 1983 and so that counted, too. But the day I'm talking about was when two Indian batsmen made eleven Australian cricketers dance to their tune. They did it in public and they did it the whole day. That's right. On the fourth day of the Test, Ish didn't leave the TV even to pee.
Here is what happened. Laxman and Dravid continued to play and added 357 runs for the fifth wicket. Day 4 started at 274/4 and ended at 589/4. Nine of the eleven members of the Australian team took turns bowling, but none of them succeeded in getting a wicket. The crowd at Eden Gardens became possessed. They chanted Laxman's name enough times to make Steve Waugh visibly grumpy. The team that had given us a follow-on could not bowl one batsman out.
Laxman ended the day at 275 not out, scoring more than what the entire Indian team did in their first innings. Dravid made 155 not out. We had lots of wickets left, had 337 runs more than Australia and only one day left in the match.
'I can finally sleep in peace. I'll buy the draw dinners,' Ish said as we downed the shutters of the shop.
'Hope we have some kids back in the park again,' I said.
Day 5
Human expectations have no limit. While we were praying only for a draw two days ago, the start of the fifth day raised new hopes. Laxman left at 281 and everyone in the stadium stood up to applaud for his eleven-hour innings.
The Indian captain Ganguly made a surprise decision. After an hour's play for the day, he declared the Indian innings at 657/7. It meant Australia would have to come back and bat. And that they had to make 384 runs in the rest of the day to win the match.
'Is Ganguly mad? It's too risky. We should have continued to play. Get the draw done and over with,' I said.
'Maybe he has something else in mind,' Ish said.
'What?' Omi scratched his head.
I wasn't sure of Ganguly's intentions either. Ok, so we lucked out and made a big total to take the game to a draw. But why did the captain declare when he could have played on until there was no time left? Unless, of course, he wanted a decision. That was, an Indian victory.
'He can't be serious. We had a follow-on. We could have had an innings defeat. Now, Ganguly really thinks he has a chance to bowl these Australians out?' I said.
Ish nodded as the Australian batsman reverted to the crease. Ganguly had kept the winning score of 384 required by the Australians at a tantalising level - difficult yet possible. Australians could have played safe and taken the game to a draw, but that is not how Australians play.
'Hey Mr Mathematician, has it happened? Has it ever happened that the side facing a follow-on actually won the match?' Ish said. He signalled Omi to start urgent, special prayers.
I pulled out the cricket data book from the top shelf. We hardly sold any of these, but the publisher insisted we keep a few copies 'Ok, so it has happened earlier,' I said after a ten-minute search.
'How many times?' Ish said, eyes glued to screen.
'Twice,' I said and noticed Omi close his eyes and chant silently.
'See, it happens. Twice in how long?' Ish said.
'Twice in the last hundred and ten years.'
Ish turned to me. 'Only twice?'
'Once in 1894 and then in 1981,' I read out loud from the page. 'Both times, England won against, guess who, Australia. Sorry buddy, but statistically speaking, this match is so over.'
Ish nodded.
'Like the probability is so low that I'd say if India wins, I will sponsor the Goa trip,' I joked.
'Or like if India wins, you will start believing in God?' Omi played along.
'Yep,' I said.
I told Omi to stop praying too much. A draw would be fine. Ganguly probably did not know the odds. The worst would be if Australia did score the runs.
'161/3,' Omi read Australia's score at tea, which coincided with our own break.
'Let's clean up the shop, guys. The match gets over in a few hours. We may have some customers,' I said. 'A draw is fine. We will take the Australians another time.' Ish reluctantly picked up the mop.
Day 5 - Post-tea
The Indian team must have mixed something special in their tea. Australia came back and continued to cruise at 166/3. Then came five deadly overs that included a hattrick from Harbhajan Singh. Next stop, Australia 174/8. In eight runs, half of the Australian team was gone.
'Ish, don't fucking stand in front of the TV,' I said. But Ish wasn't standing, only jumping.
'Fuck your statistics man, fuck the probability,' Ish shouted in jubilation. I don't like it when people insult mathematics, but I gave Ish the benefit of doubt. You are allowed a few celebratory curses when you witness history.
Pretty soon, the last two batsmen were scalped as well. Harbhajan, the Surd that Ish kissed on screen (and left saliva marks all over), took six wickets, and India won the match in the most spectacular way ever.
In Eden Gardens, every placard, every poster and anything combustible besides people was on fire. It was impossible to hear the TV commentary, as the crowds roared everytime an Indian team member's name was announced.
Ish stood tall, his hands on his hips and looked at the screen. I could see genuine love in his eyes. Every now and then, I had seen Ish watch the men in blue as if he wished he was one of them. But today, he didn't have any of his own regrets. I think more than wanting to be them, he wanted them to win. He saw Harbhajan jump and jumped along. He clapped when Ganguly came to accept the trophy.
'Two balls quickly please, we have a match,' a boy plonked a fifty-rupee note on the counter. The first customer of the great Indian Cricket Season had arrived.
I folded my hands and looked at the sky. Thank you God, for the miracles you bestow on us.
'We have come to offer solutions, not just sell some balls,' I started.
I had delivered my first line perfect. The preparations until two last night better be worth it, I told myself. We were in the principal's office in the Kendriya Vidyalaya. The office wasin a poor state, with rickety furniture and dusty trophies. Like most government offices and buildings old files piled up high on several cupboards. The lady principal and six teachers sat around a semicircular wooden table. It must be miserable to work here, I thought. It must be miserable to work for anyone else, I thought again.
'Go on,' the principal said, as my pause for effect became too long.
'So we have a district-level champion player who can design a package based on your needs and budgets,' I pointed at Ish and every teacher looked at him.
I passed out sheets that estimated the school's monthly needs based on eight hundred students. I had them laser printed at a computer shop for three rupees a page. A peon brought samosas and tea for everyone.
'How much will this cost?' the administrative head said.
'We did some calculations. Your average cost will be ten thousand a month,' I said.
'That's too much. This is a Kendriya Vidyalaya. Not a private school,' the administrative head said. He shut the notebook and pushed it towards me.
I took a deep breath. I had thought of an answer for this scenario. 'Sir, we can scale down.'
Ish interupped me, 'It is twelve rupees per child a month. Don't you think sport deserves as much as the cost of a fountain pen?'
The teachers looked up from their notebooks and exchanged glances.
'Frankly, no. We get judged on our results. The pass percentage and the first divisions. We have limited resources,' the head said.
'If everyone thinks that way, where will India's sportsmen come from?' Ish said.
'From rich families.' The head took out his glasses and wiped ihem calmly.
'But talent is not distributed only among the rich. We have to expand the pool.'
'Do you know half our classrooms leak in the rain,' the head said. 'Should we get shiny balls or fix the leaks?' He stood up to leave.
I mentally said the F-word a few times. C'mon Govind, save this. You need business, any business,
'Sir, we can do a plan for five thousand a month,' I said.
Ish raised a hand to keep me quiet. I could have killed him.
Ish stood up, to match the admin head's height. 'What are you here to do?'
'To give children an education,' the head said with a straight face.
'And all the education is in these books they read under the plastered roofs? What about the education that comes from sports?'
'What?' the admin head said.
'Sit down Jitin sir,' the principal said. 'Let us hear what they have to say.'
Jitin-sir, I mentally noted his name as he sat down again.
'Are you teaching your kids a subject called teamwork? Are you teaching them how to chase a goal with passion? Are you teaching them discipline? Are you teaching them focus?' Ish asked. I stamped his foot, signalling him to sit down. But he ignored me.
'What are you talking about?' This from one of the teachers,
'Sports teaches them all this. And tell me, who will be more successful in life? The kid who knows all the chemical formulae or the one who knows teamwork, passion, discipline and focus?'
'Sit down, son,' the principal said. Ish took his seat but did not keep quiet.
'I'm not setding for a scaled-down version. Eight hundred kids and they want to keep them locked in classes all day. We will chase useless first divisions but not spend two samosa plates worth of money on sports.'
He pointed to the samosas on the plate. All the teachers stopped eating midway. The pause continued until the principal spoke again. 'Fine, ten thousand is ok for a trial. Let's see how it goes. You are on for six months.'
We stood up to shake hands. Six educated, fifty-somethings stood up to shake hands with me. Yes, I had become a real businessman.
'If this works, why don't you come to a meeting at our Belapur school?' the oldest gentleman in the group said.
'Oh, yes. This is Mr Bhansali, headmaster of the Belapur school. He came for a visit, so I asked him to sit in this meeting,' the principal introduced.
I took his card. I mentally made a note to order business cards and wondered if I could do the fist pumping now or save it for later.
Eleven
Goa, wow! Someone has a good life,' Vidya said with a pin in her mouth. She stood on a stool in her room, fixing a poster of Aamir Khan in Dil Chahta Hai on the wall. I, her tutor, held the pin tray. So much for my position of authority.
'Goa is your brother's idea. I really don't need this break from work,' I said.
'Of course, you do,' she said as she stepped down. 'It will help you get over the earthquake.'
'What will help me get over the earthquake is work, and the money I make to pay back those loans. This trip is costing us three thousand bucks.' I came back to her desk.
She took her seat, opened her book and slapped each page as she turned it over.
'Can you act more interested?'
'I am not a good actor,' she said.
"Very funny. So did you do the calculus chapter in your so-called self-study mode.'
'I did self-study as you did not have time for me,' she said.
'Anyway, I don't understand it. As usual, I suck. What is all this "dx dt", and why are they so many scary symbols?'
'Vidya, you are appearing for medical entrance. Don't talk like...,' I stopped mid-sentence. I opened the calculus chapter. Some spoilt brats have to be spoonfed even the basics.
'Don't talk like what?'
'Like a duffer. Now pay attention.'
'I am not a duffer. Just go to Goa, manage your business, make money, insult people who don't salivate for maths and don't make any time for friends. I can manage fine.'
The last word 'fine' had the loudest volume.
'Excuse me. Is there a problem?' I said after a pause.
'Yes, calculus problems. Can we please start?'
I explained calculus to her for an hour. 'Try the exercises in the end. And read the next chapter by the time I come back,' I said as I finished class.
She kept quiet.
'Vidya, why is it that sometimes making you talk is like extracting teeth.'
I am like this only, you have a problem? Only you have the right to ignore people?' she threw back. Her eyes turned moist and her long fingers trembled. Before moisture turned to rain, I had to exit.
'I'll be back in four days,' I said as I headed to the door. 'Who cares?' she said from behind me.
?
'Eat on time and don't stay up late,' said Ali's dad as the train signal went off.
Ali was too excited to care for his dad's instructions. He reserved the top berth for himself and climbed up. Omi said his pre-journey prayers.
'Ali's ammi doesn't care. He is a piece of my heart,' Ali's dad said and his eyes became moist. 'Sometimes I wish I had not married again.'
I wrapped the cash and tickets in plastic and placed it inside my socks. Travelling with a twelve-year-old, and two other grownup kids, this responsibility had to fall on me.
'It is ok, chacha. See now you can go to your election rally in Baroda,' I said.
'That's right. I cannot leave Ali with his ammi for four days.' 'Are you getting a ticket this year,' I said as I chained our suitcase to the lower berth. The train began to move.
'No, no. I am not that senior in the party. But I will be helping l he Belrampur candidate. Ali beta,' don't jump between berths, Ali...,' his voice trailed off as the train picked speed.
Ish pulled Ali's arm and drew him into his lap. 'Say bye properly,' Ish said.
'Khuda Hafiz, abba,' Ali called out as the train left for sunnier climes.
?
'Organisers. We have to meet the organisers. Let us go in,' I said. A hairy arm stopped me. The arm belonged to a security guard outside the VIP stand.
'Thirty thousand people here want to go in there. Who are you? Autograph hunters?'
'Say it,' Ish said to me in a hushed voice.
'Get your senior. I want to talk to him.'
'Why?' the hairy guard said.
I flashed out a card. It said 'Zuben Singh, Chairman, Wilson Sport,' Pandit-ji had once met the chairman of the biggest sports company in India. I had borrowed the card from his trunk.
I own Wilson Sports. We want to talk about some endorsement deals. Now will you cooperate or...'
The security guard broke into a sweat and called his manager, I repeated the story to him. He called the senior-most security person who came in a suit. I made a fake phone call pretending to talk about ten-crore-rupees business orders. He remained sceptical, I ended another call in Gujarati and his face softened.
'Gujarati?' he said.
I stared at him, trying to decipher the better answer. In India you don't know whether someone will like you or hate you because you are from a certain place.
'Yes,' I said guardedly.
'Oh, how are you?' he said in Gujarati. Thank God for India's various regional clubs.
I just landed from Ahmedabad,' I said.
'Why have you come without an appointment?' he said.
'I came to see the match. I saw the Australians play and thought maybe we could find a brand ambassador.'
'Why Australian? Why don't you take an Indian?'
A totally irrelevant question, but it hinted at his growing belief is us. 'Can't afford the Indian team. The good players are too expensive. The bad ones, well, tell me, will you buy a bat endorsed by Ajit Agarkar?'
The guard nodded. He spoke into a microphone hanging from his ear and turned to us.
'One of you stay with us,' the security head said.
'He will,' I said and pointed to Omi.
'One guard will accompany you. What about the kid? He has
to go?'
'Oh yes, he is in the campaign. You see, we are doing a coach and student theme.'
The gates creaked open. The guards frisked us to the point of molestation. Finally, we made it to the enclosure. We walked through
the posh, red fibre-glass seats and sat down in an empty row. We had the best view in the stadium. We came after the Indian innings had ended. Australia would bat now. Apart from the batsmen on
crease, their team would be in the stands soon.
'Omi will be ok?' Ish whispered. I nodded.
'We will wait for the Australian team to come, ok?' I said to the security guard lest he became suspicious again. He nodded.
'Are you from Gujarat?' Ish asked him.
'No,' the guard said. He looked upset, as if a Gujarati girl broke his heart.
'Hey, look slowly five rows behind,' Ish said.
I turned. There was a young Sikh boy in a burgundy turban wearing the Indian team dress.
'Sharandeep Singh, the twelfth man. He may be in the team noon. Should I go shake his hand?'
'Don't be nuts. One suspicion you are star-struck and they will kick our asses out of here,' I said.
'Can I take that?' Ali said as waiters in white uniforms walked a round with soft drinks.
'Pretend you own a two-hundred-crore company. Go for it Ali,' I said.
Soon we were all drinking Fanta in tall glasses. Thank God lor sponsors.
Murmurs rippled in our stand. Everyone turned back to see men in yellow dresses emerge from the dressing room. Ish clutched my hand tight as he saw the Australian team members. They came and sat two rows ahead of us.
'That is Steve Waugh, the Australian captain,' Ish whispered in my ear. I could hear his heart beat through his mouth.
I nodded and a deep breath. Yes, everyone was there - Bevan, Lehman, Symonds and even McGrath. But we didn't come here to check out the Australian team like awestruck fans. We were he for a purpose.
'Ish bhaiya, there is Ponting, in the pads. He is one down,' Ali's scream ruined my effort to act placid.
A few people noticed, but looked away as Ali was a kid. True VIPs never screamed at stars even though they liked to hang around them.
A young white man, whom I did not recognise came and sat one row ahead of us. He wore the Australian team shirt, but had a pair of casual khaki shorts on. With curly hair and deep blue eyes, he could not be more than twenty.
The VIPs clapped as Adam Gilchrist hit a six. In the general stalls, there was a silence of misery. Ish wanted to curse the bowler, but sense prevailed and he kept silent.
The Australian team hi-fived at the six. The curly haired boy-man in f&nt pumped his fists.
Ali finished his third Fanta.
'Go talk. I have done my job,' I prompted Ish.
'After a few overs, let the match settle,' Ish said.
Australia lost their first wicket of Hayden at a score of seventy and there was a dignified applause in the VIP enclosure. Ponting was cheered by teammates as he went out to take the crease. Srinath dismissed Ponting three balls later.
Ish could not contain himself any longer. 'Yes, go Srinath go,' Ish cheered as I stopped him from standing up on his chair. A few people smirked at the quality of lowlife making it to the VIP stands these days. Bevan, already padded up, left for his innings. The curly haired boy-man turned around to look at Ish.
'Go, India go. We can do this. Series win, c'mon we are 2-2,' Ish said to himself.
The boy-man stared at us. Ish became conscious.
'It's ok. Good on ya, mate!' he said.
'Sorry, we...,' I said.
'I'd do the same thing if it were my team,' he said. Here was a chance to talk. Maybe he was a team member's brother or something.
I nudged Ish with my elbow.
'Hi,' Ish said. 'I'm Ishaan, we have come from Ahmedabad in Gujarat. And he is Zubin, he owns Wilson sports. And this here
is Ali.'
'Good to see you Hi, I am Fred. Fred Li.' 'You play in the team?' I asked Fred.
'Not right now, back problem. But yes, started playing for Australia a year ago.' 'Batsman?'
'Bowler, pace,' Fred answered.
'Fred, we need to talk. About this boy. We really need to talk,' Ish said, his breath short with excitement.
'Sure mate, I'll come on over,' Fred said and lunged over to sit next to Ish.
The security guard relaxed as he saw us with someone white. We must be important enough after all.
Ish finished his story in an hour.
'You want me to test him? Mate, you should show him to your selectors or something.'
'Trust me, if Indian selectors were up to the job, we wouldn't lose so many matches to a country with one-fiftieth the people. No offence.'
'We are a tough team to beat. There are several reasons for that,' Fred said slowly.
'Well, that is why I want you to test him. I have groomed him for almost a year now, and will continue to do so. We travelled twenty-four hours to meet someone in your team because I trust you.'
'And what would that do? What if I told he was good?'
'If you say the boy has world-class potential, I will give up my life to get him out there, I swear. Please, just bowl a few balls to him.'
'Mate, if I started doing that to everyone that came along...'
'I beg you, Fred. Sportsman to sportsman. Or rather, small sportsman to big sportsman.'
Fred stared at Ish with unblinking blue eyes.
'I played for my district, too. Never had the guidance to go further,' Ish continued. 'I wasted my studies, fought with my parents, threw away my career for this game. This means everything to me. Not everyone coming to you will be like that.'
Fred smiled at that. 'Mate, you Indians are good at this emotional stuff. Trust me, I gave up a lot for this game, too.'
'So you agree?'
'Four balls, no more. After the match. Stay nearby,' Fred said and loped back to his seat. 'And you better hope Australia wins so I remain in a good mood to keep my promise.'
Ish's smile froze. I can't do that. I can't wish against India.'
'Kidding mate. You guys are better at emotions. But we take the-piss better,' Fred winked.
Half the Aussie lingo was beyond me, but we smiled anyway.
'Call our friend, we need him,' I said firmly to the guard.
Two minutes later, Omi joined us. He came in so thirsty he grabbed Ali's drink.
'What the hell were you guys doing? 1 waited two hours?'
'Making friends,' I said, smiling back at Fred as Australia hit a four.
Australia won the match, but Ish didn't have time for remorse. He had to pad up Ali.
We came to the ground half an hour after the final match ceremonies.
'He is a pace bowler.' Ish turned to Ali, 'Do you want a helmet?'
Ali shook his head.
'Wear it.' Ish strapped the helmet on to Ali's head.
'Ready, mate?' Fred called from the bowler's end.
Ali nodded. Ish took the wicketkeeper's place. Fred took a ten-step run-up with a ferocious expression. The ball zoomed past Ali. Ish stepped back to catch it.
'Gifted?' Fred said to me as he prepared another run-up.
'Hey, what's up Ali?' Ish said.
'I cannot see. The ball is white. And the foreigner makes scary faces.'
'Ignore the face. Look at the ball,' Ish said as he pulled out the helmet. Omi ran to adjust the black screen on the boundary.
Fred bowled a perfect second delivery. Ali struck this time. The bat deflected the ball forty-five degrees. The ball stayed low but did not bounce until it crossed the boundary. Six.
'Bloody hell! Where did that come from?' Fred said.
'Two more balls,' I said. I was aware of what was happening inside Fred's head. The feeling of being trampled, mutiliated and vanquished by a mere boy had only begun.
Fred's third ball went for a four and the last one for a six. His face looked more humiliated than scary. And no matter how many times he said 'mate', his tone had turned from calm to anxious. He looked like someone who had been shaken of all his convictions about cricket.
'How did he do that?' Fred muttered, tugging at his curly hair.
We looked at Ali. He sat down on the floor and held his head.
'You ok?' Ish said. The pressure had gotten to Ali. 'What's up?' Fred said.
'Being extra focused takes a lot out of him. He needs to recoup after a few big hits. I taught him to play a full innings in the neighbourhood but today...'
'Stress, mate, all that travel and you shove a scary white guy in his face,' Fred said.
'He has to face this,' Ish said. He bent down to remove Ali's pads.
'Yep, needs stamina and training, but will go places,' Fred said.
'You think so?' 'That's Fred's verdict.'
'Hey guys can you hang on, I need to make a call.' Fred said and stepped away to dial a number on his cellphone. I couldn't hear Fred but he had a ten-minute animated conversation before he returned to us.
'Thanks, Fred,' Ish said. I could see the pride in Ish's face.
Goodonya. Why don't you guys bring him down to Australia for a while? Hang out and practice in my academy,' Fred invited like going to Australia was as simple as taking an auto to Navrangpura. 'Really?' Ish said.
Yeah right, I thought. We had scraped to get second-class tickets for Goa. We were leaving the same night to save money. Yet, Ish wanted to go to Australia.
'We can't, Fred,' I intervened.
'Why?' Fred asked.
'Can't afford it. I don't own a cricket business.' 'What?'
'I run a small cricket shop. We lied to get into your enclosure for this.'
The air became tense.
'Holy Moly,' Fred smiled, 'You guys! Some gumption. Anyway, I am no rich guy either like your Indian team players. So that's cool by me. But you could have got into trouble there if caught.'
'I had to make sure Ali gets tested by the best,' Ish said.
'Then get him to Australia. I leave India tomorrow. How big is your business?'
'It is kind of small,' Ish said. 'And tickets are expensive.'
'Well, one of my ex-girlfriends works with Qantas. Let me see what I can do,' Fred said as we walked back. 'It is just Ish and Ali right?'
'That's fine,' I said quickly.
'No, we are partners Fred. Either we all come together or not. We need four tickets,' Ish said.
'Hang on,' Fred said as he stepped away to make another
call.
'All right,' Fred said as he returned, 'I can do four tickets.' 'Wow,' Ish exclaimed, 'look Ali, this is because of you.'
Ali smiled.
'But July is better,' Fred said, 'it is winter in Australia and tickets are cheaper.'
'July works,' I said. 'We can't come in the summer vacation, that's peak sales season.'
I figured apart from the tickets, there would be expense on passports, visas and living expenses during the trip. I needed some time to save for that. I didn't have to do it, but it's not every day you get to go international.
Twelve
There is some junk around here. But it will be a great store for your shop,' Mama said, opening the door of a dilapidated godown.
Sunlight hit the room for the first time in years. Two rats scurried across on unsteady legs. We navigated our way through empty gunnybags, stacks of bricks and abandoned masonry.
'It will take weeks to organise this. Omi, we will need six lights on the ceiling,' I said.
'It's fifteen feet by fifteen feet. A good size,' Mama said.
'Mama, what rent do you want for this?' I said.
I had decided to go into wholesale business. I was quite certain that the recent cricket series would increase demand bigtime. As long as I could secure goods on credit, I could make money.
'Nonsense. A father does not take rent from his son,' Mama said.
I hated such form of benevolence. I had estimated the godown's rent as half of the shop. It had no frontage to make it suitable for retail.
'And speaking of sons, I want you to meet my son today,' Mama said and shouted.'Dhiraj! Dhiraj!' Dhiraj, Mama's fourteen-year-old son, came running from the temple compound. His Spiderman T-shirt and jeans contrasted with the plate of vermillion and saffron paste that he was carrying in his hand.
'Baba, here you are. Let me put the tilak,' Dhiraj said.
Dhiraj put a tilak on Mama's forehead. 'Meet your brothers, Mama said. 'Govind, Ishaan and, of course, Omi.'
'Hi,' I said.
'The cricket shop owners. I love cricket,' the boy said in a voice that had just broken into adolescence.
'So young, yet he helps me with my campaign after school,' Mama said with pride in his voice. 'Two trips to Ayodhya already. Put tilak on your brothers, son.'
Dhiraj put tilak on our foreheads too. 'I have to finish puja. Ish bhaiya, you have to give me cricket tips someday'
'Sure, run along,' Mama said.
We came out of the godown. Mama bolted the door.
'How is it going, Mama? You need me?' Omi said.
'Flections are only six months away. In a few months, the rallies will start. I have to show Parekh-ji what a brilliant job I can do.'
I took out ten one-hundred-rupee notes and placed them in Mama's hand.
'Rent for the godown, Mama,' I said.
'Leave it no,' he said.
'Don't say no, Mama. 1 am already obligated to you. Business is looking up. We will repay your loan soon, too,' 1 said.
?
'Hello, Pandit-ji? Can you hear me?' 1 said. 1 received a call from Pandit-ji a month alter 1 had opened the godown. The temple bells made it hard to talk and I had to strain my ears to hear his voice on the horrible line.
'I have had enough, Govind. I want to marry my daughters off and go back to my Kashmir.'
'I know Pandit-ji,' I said. He had told me this story a dozen nines.
'Yes, but last week a nice family came to our house. They have two sons, both based in London. They will take both my daughters. Want to do it as early as possible.'
in one ceremony?'
'Yes, imagine the saving. But if it is one ceremony, they want it in style. I have sold the godown, but I need a buyer for the
goods.'
'How much is the stock worth?'
'Two lakhs of sale value. Of which retailers like you took twenty per cent margin, and 1 kept another ten per cent. The true cost is a round one lakh forty thousand.'
'I'll take it for one lakh,' I said on impulse. Ish and Omi looked it me in surprise. What crazy scheme was I up to now?
'One lakh forty is the cost, and now you want to buy it off me at a loss?'
i am buying everything.'
'Give me the money by next month, you can take it for one ten,' Pandit-ji said.
I said one lakh. No more.' I said in a firm voice.
'When can you take the stock? The godown buyer needs possession fast,' Pandit-ji said.
'Today,' I said.
When I told Ish and Omi about the deal later, worry lines crisscrossed their foreheads. I saw a gold-mine trade. India had performed great in the recent series. The summer vacations would start in a few weeks. If I sold it all, I could double my money.
'You know what you are doing, right?' Ish was doubtful.
I looked at him. My risks had let him down before. Yet, you can't do business without taking bets.
'Yes, I do. Do you trust me?'
'Of course,' he said. 'But his daughter is gone.'
'What?' I said, puzzled.
'You had a thing for her,' Ish reminded me.
'Oh,' I said and looked away. You have no idea who has a thing for whom buddy, I thought.
?
Business exploded in the next three months. Every Indian kid played cricket in May and June. Experts had called the India-Australia series historic. The actual matches had taken place during the exams. The pent-up cricket fix came out properly only in the vacations.
'Is this how Harbhajan grips the ball?' a seven-year-old tried to fit the cricket ball into his tiny fist.
'Laxman and my batting styles are identical,' said another boy in the park.
Customers at the temple shop tripled. Our wholesale business fared even better. Retailers never stopped calling.
'What? Pandit-ji is going back to Kashmir? Anyway, two boxes of balls in City Mall sports shop?' said one.
'I've taken over Pandit-ji's business. Call us, we deliver in two hours,' I told another large shop in Satellite.
'No, cash down only. Ahmedabad has no quality stock. You want now, pay now,' 1 said to a credit seeker.
I kept track of cash, Omi did deliveries, while Ish manned the shop. When schools reopened, he also looked after the monthly supply business. We now supplied to four schools. It took a national holiday on 15 August for us to have a quiet day at the shop.
'We should have kept kites. Look at the sky, that's easy money,' 1 said as I counted cash.
'Hurry up with the accounts,' Omi said. 'Mama wants us there by four.'
Mama had planned his rally on Independence Day, the same day as Ali's dad had planned a speech for his party's candidate. What's more, both the rallies took place at the same venue, at the opposite ends of Nana Park.
'We will get there by four. But guess what's our profit for the last four months,' I faced the two.
Both shrugged.
'Seventy thousand,' I said.
'Seventy what?' Ish said.
'That's right. Out of which forty thousand will be used to repay our loans. The remaining thirty is ours,' I said and passed on a bundle of notes to each of them.
'Who decides how to cut this money?' Ish said.
'I do, any problem?' I said and realised I had come across too firm.
'Nope. So, how many loans do we have left?'
'Only twenty thousand more, if you count the interest. We will repay all by the end of the year,' I said and locked the safe. I kept the key in my shirt pocket. I stood up to do a stock inventory in the godown.
'Hey, Govind,' Ish said as he pulled my arm down. 'What?'
'Australia,' he said.
'C'mon, we have discussed it. Yes, it was nice to meet Fred and Ali is good. Just the visas cost three thousand each.'
'Fred is giving the tickets,' Ish said.
'But we will still spend a lot. I'd imagine at least ten thousand a head, or forty thousand for the four of us,' I said. I wanted to go as well, but I couldn't afford to spend so much on a junket.
'Here is my ten,' Ish said and tossed the bundle back to me, 'My contribution to the Australia fund.'
I looked at Ish and Omi. These guys are nuts. Super nuts.
'Take this money home and toss the bundle at your dad. You need to.'
'Dad is only going to find another reason to curse me,' Ish said.
'Here's mine.' Omi tossed in his bundle, too. 'C'mon Omi,' I said.
'I don't work for money. I'm with you guys and don't have to be a priest. That's good enough for me.'
'Well then let's save it for the business and...,' I was interrupted immediately.
'No, this money is for Australia only'
'Just when the business was looking up! Oh well,' I said and tossed my bundle too.
'There you go,' Ish said, 'we've got thirty grand done. Now if only you don't pay the loan this time.'
'No way Ish. The loan has to be repaid.'
'We will repay it - later,' Ish said.
ish, you don't listen. What if the other expenses end up higher?'
'We will spend as little as possible. We'll take enough theplas and khakras to eat for the stay. Fred will arrange the stay. Think about it man, the Australian cricket team,' Ish said.
I sat down and sighed. My financially clueless partners looked at me like kids waiting for candy.
'All right. Who is the bloody travel agent, let me bargain with him,' I said.
'Yes, here we go,' Ish said as he dialled the agent's number. 'One week, I can't leave the business anymore and everyday will be expensive there,' I said as I took the phone. Omi disconnected the phone. 'Later, let's go to Nana Park now,' Omi said.
?
Twice. They dug up the Ayodhya site twice.' Mama raised two lingers.
His voice echoed, more due to the poor quality of loudspeakers than the impact of his words. Ish and I sat at one end of the first row. Omi stood on stage. He felt important wearing a party badge, though he only had an errand-boy status. His responsibilities included placing mineral water bottles for everyone sitting on the stage.
Mama had done a good job of publicity. Two hundred people had shown up, not bad for a neighbourhood gathering. The candidate, Hasmukh-ji, a veteran of state politics and a longtime associate of Parekh-ji, sat centrestage. Mama was enjoying his five minutes of mike fame before Hasmukh-ji's speech.
'As far back as 1978, ASI, the government's own entity, found temple evidence. But the secular government hid it. Then in 1992, our dear kar sevaks were pushed into breaking the structure. And they found something.'
Ish started cracking knuckles, punctuating Mama's words.
'They found a Hari-Vishnu inscription that established without doubt that there was a temple in the past. But the secular party buries that news, too. The focus shifts to the kar sevaks as vandals. But what about that evidence? Can a Hindu in India demand justice or not? Where should we go? To America?'
Everyone applauded as Mama left the stage. Mama had candidate potential, I thought.
Hasmukh-ji came to the mike. He requested everyone to close their eyes to say the Gayatri Mantra, thrice. It always worked. The crowd became involved. They liked Hasmukh-ji before he had spoken a word.
Omi stepped off the stage and came to me. 'Govind, Mama wants you to spy on Ali's dad's rally. And Ish, can you come backstage, the snacks need to be distributed.'
'But why?' I was bewildered.
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