My So-Called Bollywood Life

by Nisha Sharma

  Before Winnie could reply, Bridget called from the staircase. She was wearing a groom’s wedding turban, and her arms were full of jewelry boxes. A harried-looking sales associate rushed after her. “Winnie, I found some anklets!”

  Thank the gods for best friends, Winnie thought as everyone focused on Bridget.

  In the end she got away with just purchasing the lengha and some new jutti flats that matched the outfit’s color scheme. Bridget was the one who left with jewelry. On the drive home, no one brought up that amazing bracelet they’d seen. Truthfully, she was grateful they’d all taken the hint that she didn’t want to talk about jewelry and prophecies.

  But that night, when she was alone in bed, she thought of that perfect silver bracelet again before she drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  —

  Winnie ran hard and fast through the field, gasping all the way. She felt a weight on her wrist sliding with each step, and she stopped to look down at it.

  It was the bracelet. The same one she’d seen in the shop. It fit so perfectly and felt so right. She scanned the horizon and saw the familiar outline of Shah Rukh Khan in the distance. She started running again. Maybe he could tell her what this all meant.

  She got closer and closer, heaving with the strength it took to run in the wind. When she was within touching distance, the man turned. Winnie gasped and stumbled. Instead of the face of the Bollywood actor she’d seen so many times before, Dev’s face looked back at her.

  “Finally,” he said, and held out his arms as if waiting for her to run into them.

  14

  GOLIYON KI RAASLEELA: RAM-LEELA

  ★★★★★

  I’m a purist. Totally not a fan of kissing, intense make-out sessions, or especially *gasp* sex scenes in Bollywood. I think the intensity between the characters is so much better when they have to restrain themselves.

  EDIT: I changed my mind.

  Winnie pulled the overhead visor down to check her hair and eyeliner for the tenth time. She’d been doing that at every traffic light since she’d left her house twenty minutes ago. She’d just finished patting her loose curls into place when the light changed.

  Dev lived in North Brunswick, behind the movie theater that played both American and Indian movies, so she knew how to get to his place easily. She crossed Route 1 and soon reached a small stretch of ranch houses lining a narrow street.

  “This is it,” she mumbled as she stopped in front of a blue-and-white house. The walkway was lined with flowering bushes, and the door knocker was in the shape of the god Ganesh. The elephant head had a long trunk curved in a U shape.

  She grinned and was reaching up to touch the metal detail on the trunk when the door wrenched open. Winnie immediately jumped back, and almost tumbled over the potted plants.

  “Hey,” Dev said as he leaned against the door in his fitted black shirt. The fabric molded to his chest in a totally-can’t-help-but-stare way.

  “Hey.”

  “Come in.” He motioned her inside.

  “I, uh, brought a couple movie choices for you to pick from.” She closed the front door and toed off her shoes, pushing them into the corner with Dev’s much larger sneakers. She noticed that a calendar from the Durga Temple in Princeton was tacked to the wall in the foyer. The picture of the goddess Laxmi sitting on a lotus surrounded by a ring of light was framed with sticky notes about dry cleaning and bills.

  “Let’s take a look,” he said, and disappeared through an archway.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’m getting drinks.”

  She followed the sound of his voice and entered a small kitchen painted in sunny yellow.

  “Mom isn’t here, but she cooked us a feast. Are you hungry? I can heat this food, too.”

  “Uh, no, not really.” They were home alone. So did that mean…? Oh boy. She hadn’t shaved her legs above the knee today.

  No. No, she wasn’t going to go there. If Dev thought he was getting lucky, then he was going to be really, really disappointed.

  “Okay,” he said, stepping from behind the fridge door. He threw her a bottle of Starbucks mocha iced coffee. She caught it with two hands.

  “I could have dropped it!”

  “But you didn’t.”

  Winnie rolled her eyes and started shaking the bottle. “I love these things. Thanks.”

  “I know, and you’re welcome.”

  Before she could ask how he’d known, Dev was picking up a bowl of popcorn, a king-size bag of M&M’s, and a bottle of Gatorade, which he tucked under his arm. He rounded the counter and walked down a short hallway.

  “The TV room is in the basement.” He opened the first door on the right, flicked on the light with his elbow, and jogged down a steep flight of stairs. Winnie followed him much more carefully.

  When they got to the bottom, Winnie took in the large beat-up brown couches and spotty beige carpeting. When she turned to the left, she let out a gasp.

  She had never seen so much camera equipment in her life. In one tiny section of the basement, Dev had managed to store multiple tripods, camera stands, lenses, cases, headphones, microphones, recorders, and other mechanical devices. A table with three computer screens and multiple towers crowded up against the wall.

  “Wow, Dev. That’s…insane. I may have a lot of movies, but you have a lot of studio equipment.” She started walking toward it, but he gripped her arm and gently pulled her back.

  “No way. I’m working on my short revision for the festival. You can’t touch until I’m done. Come on, give up the movies. Let’s see what crap you’re going to make me watch today.”

  “Crap? Excuse me, but I have some of Bollywood’s finest work with me. You are going to love this.” She pulled a stack of DVDs out of her bag.

  “Do you seriously expect me to watch Hum Aapke Hain Koun?”

  “It’s a modern classic,” she said.

  “No. Next?”

  “What? The music is so good. Do you know how many times people have quoted this film? How many weddings reference the dialogue and choreography?”

  “Still no. Come on, what other choices do I have?”

  “Ugh. Fine.” She held up Kapoor and Sons. “It’s a great movie about family relationships.”

  “One I’ve actually seen. My mother makes it a point to watch all the Bollywood movies about cheating dads.”

  “Oh. Okay, then.”

  She went through three more movies before getting to Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham. “We are watching this,” she said, anticipating his denial. “I don’t care what you say—we are going to sit through this entire movie. Why? Because Kajol and Shah Rukh Khan are actors who can teach even the worst critic a thing or two about on-screen chemistry. This movie is beautiful, except for Kareena Kapoor’s crying and melodrama scenes. If I have to argue with you through this entire movie, I will.”

  Dev sighed and held out his hand for the disc.

  Winnie gave a victory cheer and plopped down on the couch. She was already reaching for the popcorn when Dev sat next to her after starting the movie.

  “Wait, don’t do that yet. Here.” He opened the bag of M&M’s and sprinkled them over the popcorn.

  “I was hoping that was what the M&M’s were for,” Winnie said. “You know, for our first official date, I’d say you hit it out of the park.”

  “What are you talking about? This is our third date. We went to a carnival, then to a football game, and now we’re watching movies. For two movie fans, I’m surprised it took us this long to get here.”

  Winnie started ticking the dates off on her fingers. “The carnival happened because Henry invited me, and you almost puked on the Ferris wheel—”

  “Can we forget about that? Talk about the first-kiss part,” he said. “We did that, too.”

  “The second date was a group thing.”

  “I gave you my sweatshirt, which you have not given back, by the way.”

  She had no intention to, eith
er, she thought as she ticked off a third finger. “And we watch movies together on Sundays at the film-club screenings.”

  “That’s when you’re not avoiding me,” Dev said.

  “What? I sat next to you for the last two screenings. And this Sunday, when we’re watching the one about escargots, I’ll even let you hold my hand. How about that?”

  “I still say this is our third date and our first movie date.”

  Winnie tossed a throw pillow at him. “Semantics.”

  He caught it deftly and placed it at his side before handing her the popcorn and M&M’s. “Let’s do this,” he said.

  She snuggled in to watch the opening scene with Jaya Bachchan playing mom to a growing boy. As the music played, Winnie let the magic take over. The setting, the acting, the dialogue. When a movie was made well, she could feel every emotion that the characters felt, and she was right there with them, hurting, crying, laughing, and yelling. At one point, Dev wrapped an arm around her shoulder and moved in closer.

  “I’m glad you’re not a talker,” Dev said as Shah Rukh Khan’s character followed the heroine through a street festival. “I’m not a talker during movies.”

  “Funny how you have to talk to mention that to me.”

  He laughed. “You’ve seen this movie how many times?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Every time I watch it, I discover—”

  “Something new.”

  “Even when Raj and I were in the good parts of our relationship, he avoided rewatching. I’m glad you get that.”

  She watched as Dev’s eyes narrowed. “Do me a favor and don’t compare me to that dipshit, okay?”

  He faced the screen, putting distance between them.

  “I’m not comparing. I’m just saying that the one person who I thought understood me the most didn’t get me at all.” She took a deep breath and added, “And the person who I least expected to understand me has been so awesome to me in such a short span of time.”

  She saw the corner of Dev’s mouth curve even as he focused on the movie. Well, that wasn’t awkward at all, she thought. Seriously, what was she thinking to say something like that to Dev?

  On-screen, Shah Rukh Khan and Kajol’s characters were transposed to the beautiful desert in Egypt, where they sang and danced together. When Shah Rukh Khan kissed Kajol’s neck, Winnie sighed again. Because she was becoming engrossed in the love story, she was blindsided by the pillow that hit her on the side of the head.

  “Hey!”

  “I had to make sure you weren’t going to start screaming like a fangirl. Are you serious? You’re sighing over this stuff? For God’s sake, Winnie, they are dancing in Egypt. This doesn’t happen in real life!”

  “Of course it doesn’t happen in real life! That’s the whole point.”

  Dev paused the movie. “This I have to hear. If it’s not supposed to mimic real life, then what’s the point?”

  “When you watch a movie like Star Wars, is that supposed to mimic our reality?”

  “No, that creates a different world, a different reality, but with emotions that audiences in this reality can relate to.”

  “And that’s exactly what these kinds of Bollywood movies do,” Winnie said. “They create a separate reality in which singing and dancing become acceptable. And this,” she said, waving to the screen, “is the world of Bollywood romance at its finest.”

  Dev shook his head. “Okay, well, can you please clue me in on your interpretation of the corny song-and-dance routine? Because I’m not exactly seeing what you are.”

  Winnie rolled her eyes. “It’s hard to explain what true romance is like.”

  Dev laughed so hard he almost rolled off the couch. “You think this dialogue and this singing-and-dancing stuff is true romance?”

  “What, you think you can do better than the great Shah Rukh Khan?” She snorted. “I doubt that.”

  “You know what? Challenge accepted,” he said, facing her. He gripped her hands. “I’m excellent at wooing.”

  “Yeah, okay. This I gotta see.”

  “Winnie.”

  “Yes?” She giggled. Dev squeezed her hands in retaliation. “I’m not feeling very wooed, Dev.”

  “Stop it. Okay.” Dev pushed the coffee table away from them with a foot and got down on one knee in front of her. “Winnie, when I first saw you, this giant lens that I’ve had on my future came into focus. It was like everything was blurry before, and then when you arrived, it was crystal clear.”

  “Oh. Oh, Dev.”

  “And I’m not going to lie, it hurt when you left for someone else. But I’m glad you’re back and—and, Winnie…I don’t understand why you love the singing and dancing and Bollywood drama, and I never thought I’d direct choreography, but Winnie Mehta, I would dance for you.”

  The only sound that Winnie could hear was the pounding of her heart. She wanted to say something, anything. But sometimes words weren’t enough. She laid her palms against the cool skin of his cheeks, leaned forward, and touched her lips to his.

  Dev’s reaction was instantaneous. He pressed against her mouth until she was lying on the couch and he was stretched over her. Then there was his mouth and hers, his chest against hers, and their rushing heartbeats synced.

  Holy baby Shah Rukh Khan.

  His knee slipped between her legs, and his mouth slanted against hers. Her thoughts scattered even as she combed her fingers into his hair. She leaned in for another kiss, another touch, to feel him close to her.

  Winnie’s phone shrilled. She scrambled from under Dev, breathing heavily as she pulled her cell phone out of her bag. The first thought she had was that her mother was calling and that she knew exactly what Winnie was up to.

  “Really?” Dev said. “Perfect timing.”

  The thrill died when Raj’s name flashed on the screen, and she groaned. After declining the call, she shoved her phone in her bag, but it started buzzing again.

  “Who is it?” Dev asked.

  “No one important.” She flipped off the sound, but her phone vibrated with a text. She glared at the screen as she read the message.

  RAJ: Sorry if you’re busy. At the school. Problem with festival location. They’re renovating the theater we always use.

  She hesitated. Raj should be able to deal with it himself. She looked down at Dev, who raised an eyebrow at her. Her phone buzzed a second time.

  RAJ: PLEAZZEEE. I NEED YOU. Come down to school. Committee is here. It’s an emergency!!

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s a stupid festival emergency,” Winnie said.

  Dev groaned. “Seriously? Of course that numbnut would call now. Does he know you’re with me?”

  “I didn’t tell him. It’s okay. I’ll stay. He can deal on his own.”

  She patted his leg, and he shifted to give her space. She was about to kiss him again when her phone buzzed for a third time.

  “That’s it—I’m turning it off.”

  “Winnie,” Dev said. “Listen, if it’s an emergency, your mind is going to be on that instead of on me. Why don’t we, I don’t know, have a rain check or something?”

  “But we’re only halfway through the movie!”

  With a laugh Dev said, “We probably wouldn’t watch the rest of it anyway.”

  Winnie blushed. She should never have checked her phone.

  “Dev, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, me too,” he said.

  Winnie tried to pat her curls into some semblance of order, and then gave up and braided her hair over one shoulder.

  “I hope this emergency is worth it,” Dev muttered from his position on the couch.

  “Me too.” Winnie gave him a quick kiss, grabbed her bag, and started up the stairs.

  “Hey!” he shouted after her.

  “Yeah?”

  “You going to the fund-raiser dance with me?”

  “I don’t know—are you asking?”

  “Yeah,” he said, sitting up. His smile slipped away. “Are we
dating?”

  “Keep watching those movies,” she said, ignoring his question and the knot in her stomach. “See you in school.”

  She practically raced out the door and into her car. When she stopped at a red light on Route 1, she pressed her forehead to the steering wheel. No matter how hard she tried to get away from her horoscope, it kept tapping her on the shoulder to remind her that any man other than Raj wasn’t for her. The only problem was that she didn’t want Raj. She wanted Dev.

  On the rest of the ride to the school, she racked her brain for a film comparison that could solve her problem. But she kept drawing a blank, because Dev wasn’t part of a Bollywood story to her.

  Winnie knew the right thing to do was cut her losses now. Any pain she experienced with Raj would be nothing in comparison to the devastation that she’d experience if Dev broke her heart.

  15

  HUM DIL DE CHUKE SANAM / I GAVE MY HEART AWAY, DARLING

  ★★★★★

  My advice to the heroine in this movie? Sometimes going back to the one you loved in the past is a good thing. And sometimes…well, sometimes it’s time to move on.

  Winnie couldn’t help but think about Dev as she walked through the empty school hallways. It had been three weeks since he’d kissed her brainless in his basement, and since then, they’d worked together at the theater, hung out at film-club screenings with Henry and Bridget, and talked about their future. Of course she still had to deal with a gazillion things in her life like school and the festival, but she was happier than she’d been in a long time. She just wished that everyone would believe her. Her grandmother and mother asked questions about Pandit Ohmi’s prophecy so much now that Winnie felt like it was the one plot point in her Bollywood movie that didn’t have closure.

  And of course there was Raj. Winnie hated that he kept popping up out of nowhere with “emergencies,” which is exactly what she told him every time he asked for her help.