Three Mistakes of My Life by Chetan Bhagat

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I wanted to get up and leave.
I get a small retirement pension. How much do you charge?'
'Four hun...,' I started to say but Ish interrupted with 'Why don't we start and
see how it goes?'
Everyone nodded, even Omi because he did whatever everyone else was doing
anyway.
'Right, Govind?' he said to me last.
I gave the briefest nod possible, a five-degree tilt.
'Stay for dinner, please,' Ali's dad implored as we stood up to leave.
'No, no,' Omi said, horrified at the idea of eating in a Muslim home.
'Please, I insist. For us, hospitality is important. You are our mehmaan.'
I would have disagreed, but I wanted to get something for the free maths-and-
cricket coaching programme.
We sat on the living room floor. Ali's mom brought us two extra large plates,
one for the three of us and another for Ali's dad. The plates had simple food -
chapattis, daal and a potato-cauliflower vegetable.
Omi sat down. He did not touch the food.
'Sorry I can't offer you meat. This is all we have today.'
'I don't eat meat. I am a priest's son,' Omi said.
An awkward pause followed. Ish jumped in, 'The food looks great. Dig in guys.'
To share a single plate is strangely intimate, lsh and I broke off the same
chapatti. His long fingers reminded me of his sister's. Damn, I had to teach her
again the next day.
'They don't teach maths in madrasas?' I asked for the sake of conversation and
mathematics.
'Not in this one,' Ali's dad said as he spooned in daal. 'Maths and science are
forbidden.'
'That's strange. In this day and age,' I said. I thought of a business
opportunity, a massive maths tuition chain outside every madrasa.
'Not really,' Ali's dad said. 'Madrasas were not even supposed to be schools.
Their role is confined to teaching Islamic culture. Here, have some more
chapattis.'
'And that's why you had him switch schools?' lsh said.
'Yes. I would have done it earlier, but my father was adamant Ali goes to a
madrasa. He died six months ago.'
'Oh, I am sorry,' Ish said.
'He was unwell for a long time. I miss him, but not the years of medical
expenses that wiped me out,' Ali's father said. He drank a glass of water. 'When I
retired from university, I had to leave the campus quarters. The party wanted me
to move here. The Belrampur Municipal School was close, so I put him there. Is it
good?'
'Yes, we studied there for twelve years,' I said.
'Omi, you didn't eat anything. At least have some fruit,' Ali's dad said, offering
him some bananas. Omi took one, examined it, and gobbled it in three bites.
'Why are you so keen to teach Ali cricket?' Ali's dad said.
The question was enough to light up Ish's face. He spoke animatedly. 'Ali has a
gift. You see how he blossoms with my training.'
'You play cricket?' Ali's father said.

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