by Nisha Sharma
She choked and started coughing. Henry reached over and pounded her on the back.
“What are you doing to my best friend?” Bridget asked as she stepped up to them.
“Uh…sorry.”
“No, it’s fine,” Winnie said with a wheeze. “Hey, Bridge, Dev got me Kit Kats and vanilla. Did you tell him?”
“Why would I tell him your favorite?”
“She didn’t tell me,” Dev interjected. “That’s my favorite, too. Like I said, I ordered two of the same.”
“See, Winnie? It’s his favorite. What a coincidence.”
Before Winnie could comment, Dev was talking to Bridget. “Henry was telling me that he wants to see if he can win a goldfish at that dunking game.”
Bridget’s face lit up. “Ooh, can I come?”
“Uh…yeah.”
“You two have fun,” Dev said. “See ya.” He curled his long fingers around Winnie’s bicep and pulled her in the opposite direction from where Bridget and Henry had to go.
“Hey!”
“This is their chance to be alone,” he said. “Don’t you want to see if Bridget and Henry can hit it off?”
Dev was right, which was the only reason she went along with it. They began walking through the stalls and carnival games at a leisurely pace, enjoying their ice cream and the brightly colored signs and sounds. A mother pushing a double stroller tried to squeeze around them, and Dev moved closer to Winnie to get out of the way.
“Want to talk about the festival?” Dev asked.
“We don’t have to. Honestly, I’m kind of exhausted with the topic. I never thought I could be, but it’s the truth. Even though I don’t have the title, I’m trying to show that I’m a leader and I’m doing a lot of the work.”
“And you’re working at the theater.”
“Yes. And trying to avoid early-onset senioritis with my classes.”
Dev laughed, and the sound was like Christmas and Diwali rolled into one. “What do you want to talk about if not the festival, work, and school?”
“You choose.”
“Okay. Did you start your college applications yet?”
“That’s something else I’m working on,” Winnie said. “The essays for my NYU application are killing my soul.”
“Are you trying for the film studies program?”
“Of course.”
He let out a low whistle. “Good luck.”
“That’s nice,” she said with a smile.
“What is?”
“That you know how hard it is to get into NYU. That you understand how hard the essays are to write.”
He smiled and reached over to tug a lock of her hair. “Well, I am a movie person, too. And I know that you’ll knock those essays out of the park. Even if you aren’t film-festival chair anymore, I’m sure you’ll do something else that’s even better for your application.”
“Yo, Dev!” someone yelled.
They turned to see Jai Patel, a junior on the school’s South Asian dance team, heading toward them. His date followed in the shortest skirt Winnie had ever seen. She stumbled once on her pencil-thin heels.
“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” Winnie said when they stood arm’s length apart.
“You guys are here together?” Jai asked.
“Yes.”
“No,” Winnie said at the same time.
Dev raised an eyebrow at her.
“We’re not here together together,” Winnie said. “We’re here at the same time.”
When the guys shared a look that she couldn’t understand, she turned to Indian Barbie. “Hey, I’m Winnie.”
“Hi. Tara.”
“Tara goes to Rutgers High,” Jai said. “She’s on the South Asian dance team there.”
“Cool. You guys have an awesome team.”
“We do,” she replied, before she looked down at her phone.
Jai rolled his eyes. “Hey, the film-club screenings are packed. Awesome mix of movie choices, Winnie. But you know me. I’m psyched about the fund-raiser dance in a few weeks.”
“You and the dance team going to show everyone up?” Winnie said with a grin.
“You know it. We’ll talk in school. I gotta drop Tara home.”
“Yup, see ya later.”
Winnie waited until Jai and his date were out of earshot before she said, “I hope he didn’t get the wrong impression about us.”
“I hope he did,” Dev said with a grin.
She elbowed him in the ribs and felt tingly from the contact. “Hey, I want to do the Ferris wheel. You in?”
“No.”
“What? Come on!”
“Nope. No way. Kabhi nahin.”
When she batted her eyelashes at him and gave him her most innocent smile, he said, “Ugh. Fine.”
They started toward the ride. Dev took Winnie’s half-melted ice cream, stacked it with his empty cup, and started eating.
“Hey!”
“If you’re making me do the Ferris wheel, I’m eating your ice cream.”
“I don’t get that, but okay.”
They maneuvered through the crowds until they reached the end of the line. Dev tossed the empty cups into a nearby trash can and looked up at the giant wheel.
“That’s…high.”
“Yup, and I heard that this one goes around almost a dozen times per ride so we get more time at the top.”
“Great…just great.” He bounced on his heels, and as they got closer to the front, Winnie noticed that Dev’s fidgeting worsened.
“You don’t like heights,” she mused.
“Nope.”
“I would’ve never guessed.”
“I hide it well.”
“You don’t have to go. I can do this by myself.”
“That would mean I’m a terrible date.”
“Dev, we aren’t on a date.”
“Next!”
Winnie moved across the steel platform and slipped into the two-seater carriage.
“We can leave—”
“No.” Dev’s warm fingers laced with hers as they sat pressed together from shoulder to knee. When the lap bar lowered and the carriage jerked forward, Dev’s grip on Winnie tightened until her hand ached.
“Dev,” she said softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was that big of a deal for you. There is still time to get off.”
“And look like a coward? Bullshit. I committed. I’m following through. But you may need to distract me.”
His eyes looked glassy now, and he was swallowing repeatedly.
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Why did you ever date Raj?”
“What?”
“Seriously,” he said. “I could tell from day one that you guys had nothing in common other than the movies that you blog about. Why did you date him? When you two were in the bathroom fighting, he mentioned something about him trying to convince you that you were destined. He also gave you a bracelet or something. What’s up with that?”
“Yeah, I didn’t expect you to want to talk about that.”
“You asked.”
“I did. Okay. Uh, well. Does your mother have a family astrologer? A pandit?”
He shook his head. “She stopped believing in astrology when my father left us.”
Winnie winced. “Ah. Sorry. Well, mine does. We’ve had the same pandit since before my parents were married. My mom and dad trust him because he gave them two predictions that came true in the strangest way.”
“What were the predictions?”
“Decades ago, my mom’s mom, my nani, found this really young priest, Pandit Ohmi, and asked him when the most auspicious time for my mom to get married would be. Pandit Ohmi said that my mother would meet the man of her dreams in an accident, and although she wouldn’t get hurt, she’d lose her shoes.”
“Are you for real?” he said, his death grip loosening.
“Like Salman Khan’s criminal record.” She felt the cool breeze against her face as the wheel turned.
“And it came true. A few weeks later my mother was in the market with my nani, when the wheel of a small cart broke off and barreled into a bunch of stalls. My father was there, holding a giant watermelon for some reason. He bumped into my mother and dropped the watermelon. It splattered all over her shoes and clothes.”
Dev closed his eyes as the first circle completed. “You’re joking,” he said.
“That’s legit what happened. At least that’s what they tell me. Dad claims it was love at first sight. Total Bollywood style.”
They were halfway through the second turn when she said, “Nani went back to Pandit Ohmi and asked him if the marriage would work. Nani was worried since my mom got really sick when she was a kid and likely couldn’t have kids. My dad didn’t care, but of course everyone wanted confirmation. The priest said they’d have a child and not to worry. Everyone was so shocked when I was born. Nani and my parents called me a miracle baby, and since then, anything Pandit Ohmi says, they take at face value. Like the last prediction he made about my family.”
“Which is?”
“Pandit Ohmi says my soul mate’s name starts with an R and he’ll buy me a silver bracelet.”
His grip on her slackened. “Are you kidding me?”
“Weird, right? I mean, yes, my parents were lucky, but in a way I believed in the prophecy because they believe in it.”
“Is that why you dated Raj?” he asked.
She shrugged and pulled out of his hold when her palm grew damp. “I saw how great my parents’ marriage was, and yeah, I wanted that for myself, too. Raj seemed like the right person. He said all the right things. I liked him.”
“This was before or after you and I met in freshman year?”
“You mean before our fleeting friendship?” she said, nudging him in the side with her elbow. “It was during, actually. Raj really started making a case for us to be together around the same time you and I were hanging out. I figured because you two had beef, you didn’t want to be friends with me, either, which is why you stopped talking to me.”
“That’s not true.”
“Oh yeah?” Her mouth was dry, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. “Then what happened between us?”
“It kind of sucks being with a girl you like when she’s dating someone else,” Dev said.
Winnie’s heart thudded wildly. “You never said anything.”
“I never got the chance.”
The carriage jerked, and Dev gripped the front of the car. “What’s happening?”
They had reached the top again, but since they stopped this time, Winnie was able to admire the view. She could see for miles in either direction. The full moon brightened the sky, and she could see twinkling lights from downtown Princeton in the distance.
Dev, on the other hand, looked like he was going to throw himself off the top. Before she could stop him, he peeked over the edge, and swore expressively.
“Hey!” She grabbed his face. He jerked before their eyes met. The tension holding his body rigid began to loosen.
Click.
Maybe it was Dev, or maybe it was the feeling of weightlessness as they rocked in the air, the cool breeze gently circling them, and the sounds of the carnival below. Her thoughts scrambled as his gaze dropped to her mouth.
Her eyes drifted shut, and she bridged the distance between them, touching her lips to his.
In that brilliant and sparkling moment, Winnie realized that no Bollywood romance could have ever prepared her for Dev Khanna.
10
CHENNAI EXPRESS
★★★★★
Conflict resolution comes from two sources in mainstream Bollywood: deus ex machine, i.e., the gods, and when a friend makes an offhand comment. I mean, it’s cool and all when a god intervenes, but no one knows more than me the importance of friends in times of crisis.
RAJ: Is it true?
WINNIE: Is what true?
RAJ: You and Dev Khanna. Are you guys hooking up?
WINNIE: WHAT? Where did you hear that?
RAJ: Some of my friends saw you making out at the carnival.
WINNIE: …
WINNIE: It wasn’t making out. We kissed. And why do you care? You have a new girlfriend, Raj.
RAJ: Do you like him?
WINNIE: Not even gonna answer that one.
RAJ: Jenny and I broke up for good.
WINNIE: PLEASE don’t tell me it’s because of me.
RAJ: It’s FOR you. Dev tried to hit on you when we were fresh. Not gonna let him win this time either.
WINNIE: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
How could Winnie’s perspective have changed with one stupid kiss? One stupid, brain-melting, mouth-numbing kiss? She left her phone on top of her bag and lay flat on her back in the empty studio she’d taken over after school. Bridget sat at her hip. They were surrounded by the color-coded index cards that Winnie used to brainstorm for her blog reviews. For some reason, that didn’t matter now. None of it did.
“Bridget, what do I do? Seriously, this wasn’t supposed to happen. When we got off the ride, we didn’t talk at all. It was so awkward. We found you guys, and then we left. He didn’t even say goodbye to me. Why would he kiss me and then not say goodbye?”
“Technically, you kissed him first.”
“He hasn’t texted me, either. Why won’t he text?”
“And say what? ‘Thanks for sucking face while I was losing it on a Ferris wheel. Super sexy of you.’ The guy has some pride. Ooh, what if the bracelet is keeping him away? Like a bad-luck charm. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me that you still had it.”
“I wasn’t ready to get rid of it when I was burying Raj’s movies. Now Raj doesn’t want it back. Bracelet aside, Dev could’ve texted something. My phone isn’t even on silent anymore, in case he does send me a message.”
“That’s a big risk for you. Especially with Raj blowing up your cell.”
Winnie groaned and covered her face with her hands. “You know that old movie I once told you about, the one from the eighties where the hero and heroine were like forbidden lovers? One of Salman Khan’s earliest films.”
Bridget rolled onto her stomach. She pulled a lock of hair over her shoulder and started braiding it. “I think you told me about it, but oh, wait, every Bollywood movie that you love and share with me has a forbidden love story.”
“Completely untrue. But this one does. Anyway, the heroine tries to communicate with the hero, Salman Khan, by tying her letter to the neck of a pigeon.”
“Oh, I do remember!” Bridget said. “The subtitles were so hysterical. The chorus was literally translated as ‘pigeon, go, go, go, pigeon, go, go, go’!”
“My point isn’t about the pigeon. It’s that the hero and heroine had so much faith in this stupid bird to get their message to each other. Meanwhile I can’t trust the world’s most reliable and fastest wireless network with one stupid text.”
Her phone beeped again, and she snatched it up. When she saw Raj’s name, she sighed.
“Raj again,” she said. “I can’t believe he and Jenny are over.”
“Focus on the thousand other things you have to worry about. Forget about Dev’s kiss and Raj’s breakup.”
“How would you do it?”
Bridget shrugged. “I wouldn’t. It’s an impossible idea. I just figured saying it would make you feel better.”
Winnie smiled and gave up trying to pry advice out of her best friend. Instead she asked, “How’s Henry?”
“You know that eighties movie where they fell in love after knowing each other forever?”
“Ha ha. Very funny. Make fun of me all you want for talking about Bollywood movies like that, but seriously, it’s the only way I know how to dissect problems.”
“I know. You’re strange, but I love ya anyway. Really, Henry is…interesting. We’ll see what happens. We’re seniors, so I don’t know where we’re going at the end of the school year. What I do know is that he’s not wh
at I expected, especially since I’ve known him, like, forever. He’s going to meet us at the homecoming game on Friday.”
“Awesome,” she said. Even though the Princeton Academy for the Arts and Sciences didn’t have a football team, the band played at halftime for other schools. “Can we leave after the third period? Is that what it’s called?”
“No, we cannot, and it’s called a quarter. I think.”
“You suck,” Winnie said. She picked up a hot pink card and passed it to her best friend. It had “Viceroy’s House by Gurinder Chadha” written on the front.
“This reminds me. Henry was wondering if Gurinder Chadha would be interested in a Q&A with students as well as judging.”
“A Q&A?”
“Yeah. That might be fun, right?”
“Gurinder Chadha answering questions from students. Wait, if she answers questions…I think you’re onto something.” Her mind raced. “Bridget, you know how every year we have to use the Princeton University faculty as our judges so we can use their auditorium for free? Well, what if we can convince the Princeton faculty that Gurinder Chadha would like to have a master class with them?”
“A master what?”
“A master class. Like filmmaking life lessons learned from a master. Princeton’s faculty and their students can participate. It’s leveling up the Q&A idea. Maybe the university will accept that instead of judging our festival. That way we don’t have to worry about paying for the auditorium.”
“I think it could work, but will Gurinder say yes?”
Winnie stood up, her hands filled with notes. “Hopefully, but first I have to get Mr. Reece to say it’s okay. This is the leadership thing he was talking about, right? Maybe this will work in helping me take over the festival again.”
“I am going to take a nap while you go do that. Good luck!”
Winnie hoped she could still catch Mr. Reece at his office before he left for the day. She was halfway down the hall when she heard her name.
“Wait up!” Dev yelled.
She watched him, all long legs and lean torso. His hair ruffled with each movement, and she sighed when he pushed it back with a careless brush of his fingers.
