Three Mistakes of My Life by Chetan Bhagat

'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.