by Tara Pammi
Farah tangled her arms through Tara’s as they walked up to the house, anticipation taking the place of her prior nervousness. She followed Tara through the wide double-doored entryway to find a tall, broad man coming in through a different door. He had a thick beard and mustache. His hair was cut into that style where it piled high on top and was sparse on the sides. He was the biggest, burliest man Farah had ever seen in real life.
He hugged Tara, enveloping her like a big bear, and then his light brown gaze fell on Farah. "This your special guest, Tara?"
His voice was so deep and bass that it boomeranged around the high-ceilinged space. Tara nodded, her excitement an almost tangible thing. "Yep, this is Farah." She turned and looked at Farah, pride and affection vying for space in that wide smile. "This is Veer. He's the head of Security for Nalini Akka. His other specialty is Chicken Tikka Masala, which we might sample today.”
Farah offered a smile.
“Your camera, please,” Veer said promptly.
“Oh, come on. Farah’s not going to break a promise.”
“Not at all a problem, Star Bells,” Farah said, taking her cellphone out of her handbag.
Veer took the phone and smiled. Or his muscles tried, Farah thought, without much success. He took the overnight bag Tara had pulled out of the boot. “I’ll just put this in there with your bag.”
When Farah looked at Tara questioningly, Tara shook her head. “Not yet.”
Veer led them down the stairs and through a short corridor into a huge basement.
“He is…” Farah searched for a word that wasn’t a judgement based on the man’s size. “Intense,” she finally said.
Star Bells frowned. “He’s intense about Nalini Akka’s security, I guess. I’ve heard that there was an incident but it was long before I joined. He’s more of a gentle giant, I’d say.” Star Bells pulled her closer and lowered her voice. “He’s dedicated to her. KK says he’s completely in love with her. Like for years now.”
Farah looked on as Veer approached Nalini and realized that was the absolute truth. It was there in his body language. In the way he looked at the woman. “Who’s KK?”
“Oh…KK is the rogue of the group, let’s say. Worse than me.”
“Worse than you? That is not possible. Since, first of all, there is nothing bad or wrong about you.”
Tara opened her mouth and closed it. And then opened it again. Then she was blushing. “KK’s one of the teachers under Nalini. She trains about eight main dancers and then those eight dancers teach classes through BollyShow. That’s her dancing company.”
Farah nodded, taking in all the people who were greeting each other with a familiarity that was borne out of years of friendship and trust. How many friends did she have like that?
A few years ago, she’d have proudly said two. Now, she had none. Both her friends had stopped texting her some time during the last year. And it was all her fault. She had lost them because of her own selfishness.
“Who are the eight main dancers?” she asked, her gaze moving from person to person in the vast basement that had full length mirrors all around. About ten to fifteen people milled about, talking to each other or stretching. She had always loved people-watching but there was something incredibly interesting about this band of people.
Farah followed Tara into a small changing room.
“You want the entire history, huh, babe?” Tara asked pulling off the jacket and then the tugging the kurta she wore over her head. The white lacy bra she wore underneath came off next.
Farah tried to look away. Tried and failed.
Tara grinned, thrust her chest out and tucked her breasts away into a sports bra. “I love it when I make you blush.”
“I love it when you make me all damp and ready by just flashing me.”
Tara groaned. “Let’s get out of here before I start begging you for a quickie.”
“You wouldn’t have to beg,” Farah retorted.
Tara laughed, and pulled her out of the changing room. They came to a wall with a huge painting of a beautiful woman sitting on a red velvet armchair. A plaque below the painting said, “Monica Motla – Founder of The Bollywood Dance & Drama Society.”
Farah let out a gasp. The woman looked no older than her. “How did she die?”
Tara’s raucous laughter bumped up against Farah’s skin. “Oh, Monica’s not dead. She lives in Jersey. The story goes that when she moved to the US, Nalini Akka was a guest at Monica’s house, and that she was the one who convinced Nalini Akka to start teaching dance to her and Jai. Of course, the diva that she is, Monica insisted that KK paint a portrait of her and that Nalini Akka hang it here. Even though she hasn’t been part of the society for years.”
The man called KK had perfectly captured this Monica’s haughty impishness in the painting. She looked as if she was lording it over everyone from her perch.
Tara pointed to a tall, broad man with an intricate tattoo winding up his arm. “That’s Jai. She’s his…wife, I think.”
“What do you mean, you think?”
Tara shrugged. “Well, they married very young. Then Monica fled and Jai stayed back. She hasn’t returned in five... six years. No one knows if they’re still married. And no one wants to ask.”
Farah’s gaze was distracted by a tall, statuesque woman entering the room in full costume and makeup. A bearded man, clad in a three-piece suit, who’d been leaning against the opposite wall straightened, his gaze tracking the woman with naked longing.
“That’s Mr. and Mrs. Varghese,” Tara said, following Farah’s gaze. “They were supposed to celebrate their twenty fifth wedding anniversary this year. Instead, she walked out on him a few weeks ago. The entire community is agog because they’re supposed to be this perfect couple. Anjali Aunty – Mrs. Varghese that is, is Nalini Akka’s best friend. Her husband is one of the biggest sponsors of our shows,” Tara said in a whisper. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him speak a word, you know. He’s one of those quietly intense people.”
“I see where the drama part of the society’s title comes from,” Farah said, bemused.
“Oh, you’ve no idea,” Tara added with a wink. “That’s Deepika & Danielle, we call them D&D. They’re getting married next year. Deepika’s sister is a millionaire podcaster with her own media company. Then there’s Ria – who doesn’t dance but does all our stage production and music. Pooja’s one of the dancers and quite the talented makeup artist. Those two are not together. They’re just BFFs.”
“Who’s that?” Farah asked, trying to not stare as another couple walked in.
One half of the couple was tall and broad, with strikingly bold features that reminded Farah of…Nalini. The other person wore the most beautiful jump suit in a gorgeous peach that contrasted perfectly against their dark skin accentuated with that same peach colored eye shadow.
“That’s Nalini Akka’s sister, Dr. Peehu, and her partner Michaela. Peehu’s a vet and hands down the best dancer we have. Even better than Nalini Akka. Although KK likes to believe he’s the best,” Tara said with a scoff. “Michaela does the most elaborate, beautiful set designs. They are supremely talented and highly in demand for those multi-million desi weddings that are all the craze right now.”
Peehu and Veer were standing around Nalini, deep in some serious discussion. “What are Nalini’s sister’s pronouns?” Farah asked.
“Peehu’s are she/her. Michela’s are they/them,” Tara said, waving at them. “Peehu’s very protective of Nalini Akka. Even though she’s the younger one. I always want a sister when I see them together. But then I remind myself that with all the randomness that happens with gene pools, I’d have had a genius brother or sister to show me up in front of Amma and Dad and thank God that I’m an only child.”
“Tara, why do you–”
“You like being close to Javed and Salim, don’t you?” Tara said, neatly sidestepping Farah’s impending lecture.
Farah smiled. “I do. They’re horribly naughty b
ut I love them anyway.” Someone started up the music system and a soft, slow song filled up the expansive space. All the dancers moved to take their places. Except Mr. Varghese.
“We can talk to Nalini Akka after the practice, okay? When all these people are gone.”
Farah nodded. “So the main dancers are Jai, Mrs. Varghese, Peehu, Michaela, Nalini, Deepika, Danielle and...”
“And KK,” Tara piped in just as a tall, lanky guy walked in. “The most devilish man you’ll ever meet.”
Farah’s mouth fell open on an almost audible gasp. Which was really not like her at all. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, with sharp, high cheekbones and a mouth that looked like it had been hand-sculpted to perfection. Twinkling brown eyes alighted on her and Tara. His broad smile carved a dimple in both cheeks.
As if he knew they were talking about him, he sauntered over to them. Dear God, the man even walked sexily, if that was possible. Strutted, that was the word Farah was looking for.
“Hey, cutie pie. So this is your girlfriend, huh?”
Tara groaned. “I told you to stop calling me that.” She mock-punched him in the arm. “And yes, this is Farah.”
“Hi, Farah. It’s nice to meet you,” KK said, giving Farah the full benefit of his smile. “Are you going to show us some of your moves then?”
Farah instantly had a very clear idea of why Tara called him naughty. The man was a horrible flirt. And he was doing it now. To get Tara’s goat, Farah had no doubt.
Tara planted herself between them, huffing. “Where’s your boyfriend?” she demanded, poking him in the chest.
The damned man’s dimple deepened as he winked at Farah over Tara’s head. “Oh, Albert dumped me,” KK said with a mock pout of those sculpted lips that no one believed. “Can you believe he had the gall to tell me I was too shallow? The man’s a cosmetic surgeon and I’m the shallow one.”
“Oh, oh, looks like you’re in trouble,” Tara pronounced with such undisguised glee that Farah searched the hall.
The woman called Ria was marching towards them with a deep scowl that even Farah knew meant business.
KK looked at her, and for a fraction of a second, his laughing face fell, as if it was just a mask. Something agonizingly painful flashed in those beautiful eyes. And then the smooth, suave, smiling man was back on again. He picked up Tara with a smooth economy of movement, despite her punching him, planted her in front of the other woman’s face, grinned at Farah and disappeared.
“Yeah, okay, he’s fucking gorgeous. Can you stop staring at him?”
Farah wrapped her arm around Tara’s shoulders and stole a hard kiss. “There, that’s my sorry.”
“If you’re going to kiss me like that, you can stare at him all you want, babe.” Tara said, looking like a very satisfied cat.
Farah shook her head. “He’s like a doll, Star Bells. A pretty doll that you want to look at for a little while and then put back on the shelf.”
Tara burst into laughter. “I’m going to sooo tell him that you called him a pretty doll. He hates it when we comment on his looks.”
“And yet he uses them shamelessly,” Farah said, realizing there was lot more to the man. She’d just jumped to conclusions based on his looks. “What’s the history between him and Ria?”
“You’re a fast worker, babe,” Tara said, confirming Farah’s doubts. “It’s a sad story. Ria used to be engaged to KK’s twin. Identical twin.”
“Used to be?”
“Tarun, the twin, died in a car accident just months before their wedding. Everyone says Ria…changed a lot after that. And everyone thinks she finds it hard to be near KK even after all these years – because he’s the exact replica of her fiancé, you know.”
Farah thought there was lot more between those two but kept quiet. It was none of her business. Her gaze moved from person to person, fascinated with how they laughed and joked with each other. All of these were people who’d clearly been through a lot, and yet, here they were living life the best they could. Whether conventional society called them successes or not.
With Nalini Menon at the center.
This was more than just a club. This was a safe space, a haven of welcome and warmth for likeminded people. And the more people she met, the more Farah realized how much she had been missing out in life by shutting everyone out, family and friends alike.
How empty her life had become – not because Mama was gone but because Farah herself had made it so.
Nalini Menon was even more strikingly beautiful in person than Farah could have imagined. Mama and she had pictured her enough times – gushing over her roles in movies they had watched, her stage performances and even her outfits. She was the one celebrity Mama had fawned over as if she were a school girl with her first crush on a movie star.
What Farah found even more interesting was that Nalini had let age show its fingerprints on her. Her figure was fuller, curvier – not that she had ever bowed to the size zero craze back then. Laugh lines and crow's feet and whatever other derogatory terms were used to call attention to a natural process, they all abounded on her face.
Farah found her all the more beautiful for this.
The one thing that had not changed was the woman's prowess and extraordinary talent when it came to her dance moves. Farah watched in astonished fascination as Nalini started the rehearsal off with a slow warm up and then the pulse-pounding tune that she had helped Tara practice.
Most of the group were good dancers, who had clearly put in hours and hours of work. Four of them were exceptional – Jai, KK, Mrs. Varghese and Peehu. Tara fell into the neither of these categories.
But their practice sessions had made a huge difference for her. Especially the partner bits. Star Bells moved through the number with confidence and a broad smile that kept the viewer’s attention on her face and vibe rather than on her less-smooth moves.
She did this like she did everything – with her heart and soul and her entire being poured into it. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
Farah leaned back against the wall behind the bench seat when Nalini walked over. Even fourteen months ago, Farah would not have been all giddy and excited. That had always been Mama.
And yet, she did feel a thread of excitement as the older woman settled onto the bench next to her. This woman had broken so many records, played such vastly different roles in an industry that rewarded connections and networking. And at the height of her career, she had simply walked away from it all, leaving her fans heartbroken.
Farah handed Nalini the yellow roses she’d brought with her. The older woman took them with a wide smile. “Thank you for letting me come,” Farah said softly.
“Thank you for bringing me such a lovely gift.” Nalini swept a curious glance over Farah, and didn’t hide it. Farah liked her a little more. “Now tell me, Farah, why did you want to meet me?”
The question was neither brusque nor soliciting admiration. It rang of curiosity. Farah found herself puzzled at how hard the answer was to come by. “Mama was a huge fan of yours,” she said, feeling her way into it.
“Not you then?” Nalini asked, raising a single brow. That one gesture relayed her acting skill like nothing else could.
“I do. I mean, I’m a fan. But she was the gushy type. Not me.”
Nalini slanted a sideways glance at her and nodded. “I am sure meeting me is not as big a thing as you might have imagined,” she said with a soft smile. “Tara was persistent we let you come. Not that I had any reason to doubt her faith in you. Veer was another matter. Tara told him she’d quit if he didn’t allow you in.”
As if the moment had been choreographed, Tara lost momentum in a complicated movement and bungled up Jai and KK who were supposed to lift her. Only Jai’s fast response stopped her from being crushed under the men. Standing on either side, they both pulled her up, sweat beading on their faces. Tara made a sheepish expression and said something that made KK throw his head back and laugh while Jai watched in
bemusement. The entire group surrounded Tara.
Mrs. Varghese scowled at Tara and ran off in Hindi. Her fingers however ran slowly along Tara’s wrist, making sure she wasn’t hurt. Tara dusted off, looked at Farah, winked and then the routine started all over again.
Farah turned towards Nalini, her heart feeling as if it were running a marathon. She was sitting still and yet she had never felt more out of breath. Never felt more terrified than at that moment. “Then you would have lost the heart of your club.”
Nalini’s gaze met hers. “You are a smart girl.”
Farah leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. “Ha…and yet I have been exceptionally stupid.”
“Now you’ve got me hooked.”
Farah opened her eyes to find Nalini examining her with a thoughtful glance. “What do you mean?”
“The thing is, we’re all very protective of Tara. The way she’s been going on about you, we were expecting a paragon of virtue to stroll in. In my life, I’ve found that perfection in a person is not all that it crows to be. I’m pretty sure Veer only agreed so he could get his eyes on you.”
“And do I pass your inspection?” Farah asked with a little smile. It was incredibly easy to talk to this woman, who was little more than a stranger.
“Well, I can tell the team you’re far from perfect, despite what Tara says. That should make them breathe easy.” Nalini said with twinkling eyes. “Tell me why you think you’ve been exceptionally stupid.”
Farah didn’t know why she was confiding in this stranger, of all people. And not her Atthayya or her father or twenty other people who were constantly worried about her.
But there was something incredibly liberating about sitting here with the woman Mama had admired.
“You see, I have been simply…existing for the last fourteen months. When I saw you on the clip, I was so excited. I thought, wow, this is why I came to the US. To meet Mama’s favorite actress. Until then, I had been rude and grumpy towards Tara – my default. I thought this was the sign that Mama is still here with me.”
“And?” Nalini prompted with an undisguised eagerness to her tone. “Please, go on, Farah.”
