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take
    my religious status for confusion. Why did I have to or not have to believe in
    something?
    Ish offered the Frooti to Bittoo Mama. It softened him a little.
    'What about you?' Mama asked Ish.
    'Hindu, Mama. I pray and everything.' Ish said. Yeah right only when six balls
    were left in a match.
    Mama took a large sip and shifted his gaze to Omi and Ish As far as he was
    concerned I did not exist.
    What did you want to invite us for Mama?' Omi said.
    He lifted the red velvet cloth and unwrapped a three-foot-long brass trishul. Its
    sharp blades glinted under the shop's tubelight.
    'It's beautiful. Where did you get it from?' Omi queried.
    'It is a gift from Parekh-ji. He said in me he sees the party's future. I worked
    day and night. We visited every district in Gujarat. He said, "if we have more
    people like Bittoo, people will be proud to be Hindu again." He made me the
    recruitment in-charge for young people in Ahmedabad.'
    Ish and I looked at Omi for footnotes.
    'Parekh-ji is a senior Hindu party leader. And he heads the biggest temple trust
    in Baroda,' Omi said. 'What, he knows the CM or something, Mama?'
    'Parekh-ji not only knows the CM, but also talks to him twice a day,' Bittoo
    Mama said. 'And I told Parekh-ji about you, Omi. I see in you the potential to
    teach Hindu pride to young people.'
    'But Mama, I'm working full time...'
    'I am not telling you to leave everything. But get in touch with the greater
    responsibilities we have. We are not just priests who speak memorised lines at
    ceremonies. We have to make sure India's future generation understands
    Hindutva properly. I want to invite you to a grand feast to Parekh-ji's house. You
    should come too, Ish. Next Monday in Gandhinagar.'
    Of course, blasphemous me got no invitation.
    'Thanks, Mama. It sounds great, but I don't know if we can,' Ish said. How
    come some people are so good at being polite.
    'Why? Don't worry, it is not just priests. Many young, working people will also
    come.'
    'I don't like politics,' Ish said.
    'Huh? This isn't politics, son. This is a way of life.'
    'I will come,' Omi said.
    'But you should come too, Ish. We need young blood.'
    Ish stayed hesitant.
    'Oh, you think Parekh-ji is some old, traditional man who will force you to read
    scriptures. Do you know where Parekh-ji went to college? Cambridge, and then
    Harvard. He had a big hotel business in America, which he sold and came back.
    He talks your language. Oh, and he used to play cricket too, for the Cambridge
    college team.'
    'I will come if Govind comes,' said Ish the idiot.
    Mama looked at me. In his eyes, I was the reason why Hindu culture had
    deteriorated lately.
    'Well, I came to invite the three of you in the first place. He only said he doesn't
    believe in God.'
    'I didn't say that,' I said. Oh, forget it, I thought.
    'Then come.' Mama stood up. 'All three of you. I'll give Omi the address. It is
    the grandest house in Gandhinagar.'
    
    People called me Mr Accounts; greedy, miser, anything. But the fact is, I did
    organise an all-expense-paid booze party to motivate my partners at the shop. It
    is bloody hard to get alcohol in Ahmedabad, let alone bulky bottles of beer. One of
    my contacts - Romy Bhai - agreed to supply a crate of extra strong beer for a
    thousand bucks.
    At 7 p.m. on the day of the party, Romi Bhai left the beer -wrapped in rags - at
    the SBI compound entrance. I came to the gate and gave Romi Bhai the day's
    newspaper. On the third page of the newspaper, I had stapled ten hundred-rupee
    notes. He nodded and left.
    I dragged the cloth package inside and placed the bottles in the three ice-filled
    buckets I had kept in the kitchen. I took out the bottle opener from the kitchen
    shelf, where we kept everything from Maggi noodles to boxes of crackers to burst
    when India won amatch.
    Another person may see the abandoned SBI branch as an eerie party venue.
    This used to be an old man's haveli. The owner could not repay and the bank
    foreclosed the