by Nisha Sharma
“For your dance team?”
She turned and fell back into his arms. He spun her in a circle, loving the sound of her delighted laugh, before setting her in her seat.
“Yes. Want in?”
“I’m okay, thanks.” He sat as well, hip to hip with her. She scooted over one seat, and he did the same so they remained side by side. They moved one seat after another, to the rhythm of the music, until they’d circled the table.
The bass vibrations began to fade. In one last effort to be close to her, Jai reached around Radha and grabbed one of her carrot sticks.
“Let me know if you change your mind,” he said. “About Bollywood Beats.”
Her eyes widened a fraction as he popped the carrot in his mouth, winked at her, and slid away to join the rest of his team.
They exited the cafeteria to sounds of cheers and applause.
When the doors swung shut behind them, Hari draped an arm around his shoulder. He stroked a hand over his barely-there beard. “What was that?”
“What was what?”
“The girl, Jai. The little flirting dance with the girl. She new?”
Jai nodded. “She’s new.”
“Do you think she’ll want on the dance team? She kept up with you back there.”
With one last look over his shoulder, Jai shook his head. “No, man. She’s not interested. We’re stuck finding someone else for the spot.”
Hari nodded. “That sucks.” He raced ahead to catch up with the team.
“Yeah,” Jai said to himself. He combed his fingers through his hair. “That really sucks.”
* * *
Jai was still thinking about Radha and his Bollywood Beats flash-mob routine later that night at work. He was pretending to study his physiology-orientation homework when he heard the chiming bells of someone entering the empty convenience store. Dr. Vimbai Muza—Nana Veeru—walked in, followed by a bearded man wearing scuffed work boots and torn jeans and a button-down shirt.
“It’s my favorite honorary grandfather,” Jai called out.
“I am here for my shift!” Nana replied. He pointed to the man behind him. “Your brother brought me.”
“Oh, that’s who it is? I would’ve never guessed under the beard.” Jai nodded toward Gopal, who was looking more and more like their dad every day, except with thick Punjabi hair from their mom’s side.
“It is him all right,” Nana said.
Nana’s speech wasn’t sluggish, which meant it was a good day for him. His stroke had caused aphasia, and years later, after regular speech therapy, he was able to regain some of his vocal abilities. There were still some moments, especially when he was tired, that he required extra focus, but the man worked hard and earned all the progress he made.
Not that it mattered to Jai. Nana and he had telepathy most of the time.
“Where is Neil?” Gopal asked.
“In the back, finishing inventory.”
“Did someone say my name?” Neil pushed through the back door, wearing an almost identical outfit to Gopal’s. “What’s up, my favorite honorary grandfather?” he said, and tapped his fist against Nana’s.
“I’m here to work.”
“That he is,” Gopal added. “Jai, did you do the register?”
Jai rolled his eyes at him.
“I saw that,” he said.
“You may be ten years older than me, bhai—”
“And your boss.”
“And my boss, but that doesn’t mean…fine, I guess it does. As always, money bag is on the counter. Slip is inside. Nana, are you ready?”
“I was born ready.” The old man straightened the knot of the tie that peeked above the V-neck of his sweater vest.
Jai rounded the counter and enveloped Nana’s frail, slender body in a gentle hug. Like always, he smelled of talcum powder and cologne.
Seven years. He’d hugged his nana the same way for seven years. Not only because the doctors told him that repetition and consistency were important for Nana’s memory, but it had also become a way for Jai to sleep better at night. He liked knowing that his honorary grandfather was feeling comfortable.
“Did you get a chance to take a look at the expense report before we send it to the accountant?” Neil asked. He grabbed a piece of parchment and pulled out a stale muffin from the pastry case. “I feel like I turned twenty-five, and my body no longer wants to process this delicious sugar.”
“Then why do you eat it? I emailed you about the expense report a little while ago. There was an error.”
“An error?” Neil said. His brow furrowed. “Really? I thought it was clean.”
“No, you were off by fifteen hundred bucks. I fixed it. Cell is marked in red.”
“Thanks, kid.” He cuffed Jai on the neck before biting into his muffin.
“Jai is the smart one,” Nana said with a toothy grin. “You two are the clowns.”
“Hey!” Gopal said, even though he was laughing. “Who stopped at McDonald’s to buy you a milkshake?”
Nana shrugged.
“This is the thanks we get,” Neil said with a grin. “But, unfortunately, you’re right. Jai, Mom was telling us you were being a butt.”
“Because I balanced an expense report, or because I’m the smart one?”
“No, you’re a butt because you won’t go to college full-time and then to medical school.” Neil snorted and fist-bumped Gopal.
“Ha-ha. You both really are clowns.” He did not want to have this conversation again. Someone was always trying to convince him that the impossible could happen.
“No, seriously. We’ll be completely fine if you decide to go,” Gopal said.
“No you won’t.”
“We will.”
“Not if you want to open up that second store.” Jai reached around the counter for his bag and took out a piece of paper. “Here,” he said. He didn’t want to see the numbers again. He already knew what they said. It was time for his family to understand how important his shifts were too.
“I don’t understand,” Neil said.
“The right column is how much money I contribute to the family fund. That’s how much money you’d be losing. If you replace me with someone full-time, you’ll be paying more in benefits. But if I work full-time, you save a lot. I highlighted that amount in green.”
“Shit,” Gopal hissed as he scanned the report.
Neil peered over Gopal’s shoulder, then whistled. “That moves our timeline to open a new store up by a few years.”
“Yup. Even if I go to school part-time and work the same hours I’m working now, it’ll affect your chances of growing the business.” The door chimed, and a woman walked in with her hair piled on top of her head and a single credit card in hand. She paused, giving Gopal and Neil a second look, before she stumbled over her own two feet.
“Hey,” Neil said with a toothy grin.
The woman blushed and rushed down the first aisle.
“I say we stay on the same timeline,” Neil continued without missing a beat. “We don’t have to expand sooner. Besides. If you go to school, you can contribute a hell of a lot more money as a doctor than you can contribute without a college education. In the long run, school is the best option for all of us.”
“Or you can win the money,” Nana said.
The old man had poured a cup of coffee from one of the dispensers and was settling his creaking bones into the chair they’d set up behind the register for him.
“What do you mean?” Jai asked.
Nana’s eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline. His mouth opened and closed a few times as he took a moment to form the words. “The dance competition.”
“We’re not following, Nana,” Neil said.
“My Jammie told me today about the dance show scholarship. It’s a
lot of money.”
“Are you talking about the regional competition?” Jai asked.
Nana nodded.
“I have to win the Winter Showcase first to go to regionals. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“Wait, which performance of yours is the Winter Showcase?” Gopal asked.
“It’s in January. You guys all came last year. The dance-school and music-school scouts show up. The winner of each category goes on to the high school association’s regional dance or music competition. I didn’t think there would be money involved at regionals, though. Maybe a dinky trophy.”
“Well, Nana says there is,” Neil said after swallowing his last mouthful of muffin. “That’s your ticket, Jai. Win regionals, apply to a school that will give you a full ride, give us the money from the competition to fill the family-fund gap for the first year, and you’re golden. You’ll spend the summer working full-time, and then when you start your second year, we’ll all be ahead of the game. Everyone is on top at the end.”
Jai rubbed his hands against his eyeball sockets. “Yeah, that’s never going to happen.”
“Why not?” Nana Veeru asked.
“You mean other than the fact that our team hasn’t won since before I started at the academy?”
“Yeah, other than that,” Gopal said.
“Well, we also lost our choreographer, Payal. She didn’t tell us that she was leaving for India, and now we don’t have anyone to help us with our routine. How about that as a reason?”
There was a chorus of swearing that made Jai feel marginally better.
“What are you going to do?” Neil asked.
Jai shrugged. He’d spent the last two weeks and weekends trying to find a replacement through the Bollywood group dance network. He called in all of his friends from other schools and asked every teacher for input. Unfortunately, Tara was right. There was absolutely no one available on such short notice. “We may have to join other dance groups if we can’t pull something together on our own.”
“What does my daughter say?” Nana asked.
“I haven’t gotten a chance to talk to her yet. I emailed her about the situation, though.”
“You emailed that kind of news to Masi?” Gopal asked. He took the paper Jai had given him and tossed it back on the counter. “You better be prepared for tomorrow, kid. You know she’s going to hunt you down.”
“I know.” Jai slung his backpack over one shoulder and fist-bumped Nana. “I have to finish some reading. I wrote up the schedule, by the way. It’s in the office. Let me know if you need me for more than those hours.”
He was halfway to the door when Gopal called his name.
“Yeah?”
“I still think you should apply. We’ll make it work.”
There was complete faith in his brother’s eyes. Jai had no idea what he’d done to earn that kind of trust, but he wasn’t going to break it by deserting his family when they needed him. It was time for him to carry more responsibility, and that meant forgetting Columbia.
Chapter Six
Radha
Translation of Bimalpreet Chopra’s Recipe Book
Punjabi Garam Masala
This is one of the basic flavor profiles of Punjabi cooking.
First, dry-roast all spices until fragrant, then finely grind cumin seeds, coriander seeds, green cardamom pods, black peppercorns, nutmeg, fennel seeds, cinnamon, and whole cloves into powder form.
Store in a sealed container for up to three months.
RADHA: Dad, why do none of these recipes have measurements???
DAD: Why waste time? Measurements differ by how much you want to make, the type of ingredients you have, and the freshness of your ingredients.
RADHA: …I have no idea how much to put into the Vitamix to make garam masala.
DAD: Start with one teaspoon or piece at a time until it tastes just right.
RADHA: Seriously? No measurements at all??
DAD: Radha, you won’t know if something is right for you until you try it.
Just don’t put too many cloves in there. Those are strong.
Radha learned that on a nice day, some science classes took place in the rooftop arboretum.
An arboretum. It was so much easier to pay attention to basic biology when there was a light breeze and the smell of local flora.
“Dr. Chen?” Radha approached her teacher after the bell rang.
“Yes, Radha. Nice job answering the questions today. I threw a couple tough ones at you. I know it’s only the third week of classes, but you’re doing great.”
“Oh, uh. Thanks. I was wondering, is there another class up here next?”
Dr. Chen looked at his watch. “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I have lunch now, and I was wondering if there was any way I could take my lunch in the arboretum?”
Dr. Chen, with his kind eyes and soft smile, nodded at her. He gave her a yellow slip.
“Don’t let the other kids know,” he whispered.
Radha was pretty sure Dr. Chen would say yes if anyone asked.
“I promise,” she said with a smile.
After he left, Radha grabbed her bag, left the rows of benches at the entrance of the arboretum, and walked down the gravel path until she found another clearing. This one was covered with a cedar pergola wrapped in vines. Slivers of light pierced the green canopy, shining onto a grassy surface.
Radha dropped her bag and took a few tentative steps into the center of the clearing. She looked down at her arms as she moved through shadows and light. What an amazing place to dance, she thought as she walked in a circle.
She remembered the short routine Ms. Olga had tried to drill into her during her contemporary-dance class yesterday. The music was a quick jazz number, and it was so much harder than Radha had thought it would be.
She rolled her shoulders back, tilted her chin up, straightened her spine, and then lifted one leg to the side to make a ninety-degree angle. Then she focused on her core muscles and used momentum and strength to spin on the ball of her foot. She stumbled and almost fell on her backside but managed to catch herself in time.
“You’re leaning too far to the left.”
The intrusive voice had her screaming.
“Holy Vishnu!”
Jai stood hands up, palms out. “Whoa, Radha. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Well, you did,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. She’d practically jumped out of her skin. It took her another moment before she spotted his lunch bag in one hand and his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Is there another class up here, or are you also eating lunch in the arboretum?”
“No class,” Jai said. He held up a yellow slip he produced from his pocket. “I asked Dr. Chen if I could come up for my lunch period too. I have some homework to do since I’m working tonight. He said you were here, but I told him we were friends.”
“Did you?” She backed up when he dropped his things and took long strides toward her.
“A friend of Winnie’s is a friend of mine. Contemp with Ms. Olga?”
“Yeah.” God, she must’ve looked like a novice.
“Stand heels together, shoulders back.”
“What? Why—”
“I’m trying to help. Give it a shot.”
Radha hesitated, but she moved into position. Her shoulders lifted and relaxed into place.
“Good. Now one arm up, one to the side.”
When Radha obliged, Jai stepped in front of her, inches away, and wrapped his hands around the curve of her waist. Her breath caught, and she looked up at him; her heart began to pound like a drum. She felt each individual finger press against her spine. They were so close like this, and when he touched her, it was different from anything she
’d experienced in a dance class.
“You need to open your hips more so you’re centered. Lift your right leg up to the side.”
She swallowed, but pointed her toe and did as he asked. He gripped her hand and lifted it over their heads, and they shared the same air.
Jai pressed against her lower back again, and when she felt balanced, he stepped away.
“Turn.”
She used her leg to get momentum, and completed one graceful spin, smiling as her heels met again. “Wow. Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “Want to take a break? Eat some lunch. With me, I mean. Want to eat with me?”
“I thought you had homework to do before work.”
Jai shrugged. “It’s my family’s store. If my brothers get pissed that I’m doing AP Calculus at the register, then I’ll just tell Mom they’re picking on me.”
Radha laughed. When was the last time she’d done that? “Well, if you’re sure, we can go to the picnic table near the stairs.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” He stepped aside for her to lead the way. “Tell me, new girl. Are you liking the place?”
“Yeah. So far so good. My kathak independent study is honestly the only easy class I have, though. I used to sail through studio classes as well, but they’re difficult for me now too. The core-curriculum subjects are probably the worst.”
They reached an empty picnic table and sat facing each other. Radha unpacked her pink glass tiffin with matching hot-pink silverware while Jai removed a Tupperware container from his bag. When he lifted the lid, a vaguely familiar spice scent hit her. She remembered it from when she used to visit her father’s kitchen as a child. Jai’s lunch looked like chicken, rice, and masala. It had to be biryani. At least, she thought it was biryani. She looked down at her lunch. After a week, she was tired of making noodles.
“Is that Maggi?” Jai asked, peering into her bowl.
“It is. The stir-fry kind with the Maggi sweet-and-sour sauce.”
