by Nisha Sharma
Radha opened the lid of her to-go container. “I keep waiting for you to tell me that because of my reputation, you don’t want me to choreograph anymore. I know you said you weren’t going to do that last night, but…I can’t help it.”
He cupped a hand under her chin. Her eyes met his.
“I’m not going to do anything. And neither is the team or the school. We can just pretend that the interaction with Tara didn’t happen. You aren’t completely powerless, Radha. You have the team supporting you now. A lot of people have your back.”
Her expression became rueful. “That’s what my therapists used to say.”
“Well, they’re right.”
She twirled her straw in her milkshake. “Your ex. I couldn’t help but think that on the surface, we have some similarities.”
“Ha. You guys are nothing alike.”
“Her outfit was definitely designer. She studied classical dance. And she’s about my height and has my hair color.”
“We’re Indian. All of us have the same hair color. Black or brown.”
“Fine, I’ll give you that. But the money thing, and the classical-dance piece. You guys broke up…what, a few months ago? Shakti said you were a little torn up over it. Then I told you I might be leaving the academy, and…well. You stopped texting me.”
The movie soundtrack blasted through the speakers as the hero entered the scene. Jai spared it a glance before turning to Radha. “I’m not going to lie. My brother reminded me that Tara and I didn’t work out for a lot of reasons that you and I may not work out either.”
“You could’ve just talked to me.”
She said it with such frustration that Jai laughed. A couple on the next blanket over glared at him. He sent them a look of apology. “But you have to admit, Radha, that—”
“That, what, you’re going to stay in New Jersey after high school and I’m going to end up wherever my parents decide to pay for my ticket? That we’re going to dance, and you’re going to become class valedictorian? That I’m going to keep learning how to cook and studying kathak while having no clue what to do with either, while you know exactly what you want to do but can’t pursue your dreams? We’re the same, Jai. The same.”
Moved, he cupped her cheek, leaned in, and kissed her. Her lips were soft under his and tasted like mint. His pulse sped up, and then he was pulling back, giving her space.
“Okay?” he asked.
Her pupils were dilated, and she was breathing a little fast, but she nodded. “Okay.”
They watched the movie in silence and shared their food, one delicious bite at a time. When they finished, Jai got up and tossed their garbage in the nearest receptacle.
He shifted closer to Radha so he could drape an arm over her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said in her ear. “I know I said it already, but I’m sorry. For not texting you as much as I wanted to. For not showing up to practice with the seniors. For leaving you confused. I won’t do it again. Just promise me something?”
Radha turned to him, their noses practically touching. “Yes.”
“You’ll talk to me about your stuff when you’re ready. I’m not going to ask you before then.”
She nodded, and then kissed his chin.
He was still grinning when the speakers crackled and the first dance number started. A few people from the audience jumped up and started dancing. Others ascended to the parquet floor in front of the screen.
Jai stood and pulled Radha to her feet. “I promised you we’d dance,” he said.
“Well, the stage looks a little crowded now.”
“That’s okay. We don’t need it.” They slipped farther into the shadows so they weren’t blocking anyone’s view. Under the canopy of a tree at the edge of the lawn, Jai slid a hand up the side of her body until it fit below her shoulder blade. His shoulders squared, and he looped her other hand around his neck.
“Try to keep up,” he said with a wink.
“Oh,” she said as she wrapped her right leg around his waist. “So that’s how it is.”
He danced with her to the music, and she moved her hips, then slipped in and out of his arms over and over again.
She fit him, he thought. She fit him like a perfect pair of dance shoes. Like the perfect music. Like the perfect partner. After she told some of her secrets, and he shared his own, he spun her in circles. He’d never done this silly, ridiculous thing before, where he felt compelled to dance with someone at movie night. But here they were, and he was truly happy.
When the music ended and the hero and heroine started a heated conversation on the screen, Jai wrapped his arms around her and kissed her like there was a chance that this was the last time they’d get to be together in this way.
Chapter Fourteen
November
Radha
Translation of Bimalpreet Chopra’s Recipe Book
Aloo Tikki
You will need potatoes, red chilies, green chilies, coriander, cumin, chaat masala, ginger, grated onions, cornstarch, and oil for frying.
Cook the potatoes, let them completely cool, and add spices and all other ingredients. Shape into patties and fry on each side until golden brown.
Radha’s note: Make sure potatoes are completely dry and cold; otherwise, they can get gloopy. Coat in panko bread crumbs at the end to make crispy. (Dad suggests whole onions instead of grated onions, and Simran is convinced frying in ghee is better.)
RADHA: Hey, Dad, got the plane tickets. Thanks!
DAD: Good! Excited to see you, chutki. What are you making today?
RADHA: Well, after our disastrous attempt at making mango kulfi, I’m going to try something a little bit easier. Aloo tikki.
DAD: Technically, tikki is harder than kulfi. We talked about the onions, remember? Want to video-chat through it?
RADHA: Rain check on the chat. I talked to Simran last week, so I think I want to give it a go myself. If I need help, I can ask my…friend. I’m sort of seeing this boy.
DAD: Oh? Is he Punjabi?
RADHA: Holy Vishnu, Dad. I’ll talk to you later. I have to meet my advisor.
DAD: That doesn’t answer my question. What if he has horrible taste in food? What if he thinks salt is the only spice he needs?
DAD: …Radha.
Radha knocked on the office door. When she heard the soft “come in,” she entered Director Muza’s domain. The woman sat like a queen behind a large wooden desk. Her dhuku was a crown that matched the bold print of her blouse. She had a couple leftover pipe-cleaner spiders hanging from the ceiling in memory of Halloween, and what looked like a pretty Diwali diya at the corner of her desk. Radha wondered if Jai had given that to her.
She inched forward, realizing that it was the first time in more than a month that they’d met in person, even though the director religiously checked in with her every few days.
“Director?”
“Yes, Radha. Goodness, is it the end of the day already? Please close the door and take a seat. We’ll have a quick chat, and then you can head on over to your team practice.”
Radha nodded and slipped into one of the chairs facing the desk. She put her backpack on the floor at her feet, and waited, hands clasped together.
The director typed something, then swiveled to face Radha. Her smile was kind. “You made it two whole months! We’re already in early November, and I’ve heard nothing but good things about you from the teachers.”
The slippery nerves in her stomach eased a little. “Thank you. I’ve been trying hard.”
“Yes, I can see that. Your mother said that you might have some anxiety and sent me a note recently to inform your dance teachers about your emergency inhaler. They’re all aware, as well as the school nurse. We’re so sorry we didn’t address that right away with your health questionnaire.”
> Radha barely controlled her eye roll. “I’m managing my anxiety. It didn’t become a problem until early this year. Now it’s my new normal. My mother is being a little careful.”
“As she should. Now we will too. Regarding your general requirement courses, as your advisor I received a report of your grades. Solid B’s and A’s. Much better than your last year in Chicago.”
“Yes, Director.” She worked her butt off for her classes. Last night alone, she’d been up late practicing and then studying for a quiz. She had no choice. The last thing she was going to do was mess up her second chance with a bad grade.
The director watched her with steady assessment, as if knowing what was going through her head. Funny that she didn’t make her nervous, Radha thought. Maybe she was able to deal with the stare down because of all her years in front of gurus who used to bark if she literally stepped out of line.
“Why don’t we move on to your kathak independent study? Your paper is due at the end of the school year, but you’re supposed to finish your preliminary research and present your topic soon. Have you decided yet?”
Radha reached in her bag for her tablet. “I, uh, think I want to look at kathak from an evolutionary perspective. How did it start, and how does it appear in mainstream media today? Like, we see so much of kathak in Bollywood dance.”
The director nodded. “Good, that’s very good. But remember. This is a thesis, with requirements for page count, bibliography, and properly cited sources. I need you to make a statement and provide evidence to prove that statement. What statement are you going to make about kathak’s evolution? Do you think that, over the years, Bollywood has made a positive impact on kathak?”
She wanted to say yes. How could it not? Every time she danced in a studio with the Bollywood Beats team, she felt alive. She felt like everything she’d ever learned about her classical art form had renewed purpose. Radha felt like she had found purpose again too.
But that wasn’t the right answer. No, she’d done papers on kathak before, and the years of theory classes were permanently burned into her brain.
“Kathak as an art form should be preserved the way it was intended to be studied.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s a classical art. Like ballet, or the Viennese waltz. Kathak has mythology, and history, and tons of theory. It’s beautiful in its pure form.”
“And so it shouldn’t be affected by evolution?”
“Well…no,” Radha said. Yes, she thought.
The director stared at her, and the only sound between them was the gentle ticking of the wall clock.
“I’d like for you to see a show,” she finally said.
“A show?” Not a kathak show—please, not a kathak show, she thought.
“There is a Bollywood dance symposium at NYU.” The director grabbed a sticky note off the corner of her desk and scribbled something on it. “Here. If you can make it, I recommend attending. You can use it as a source for your paper. If you’re unable to attend, we’ll figure something else out.”
Radha looked at the words on the bright square piece of paper. The director wanted her to see a Bollywood show, not a kathak performance.
Her brain was in overdrive.
Paralysis by analysis, her new therapist had said. Radha had to break that cycle of thinking; otherwise, she was never going to deal with the anxiety.
“Radha?”
“Yes, Director. I’ll attend the Bollywood show.”
“And if after that you truly believe that kathak needs to be preserved, I’d like your draft thesis statement and a list of research texts you’ll use by the end of November. Okay?”
“Yes, Director.”
“Good.” Director Muza leaned back in her leather chair and crossed her arms. “Now. I had one more thing I wanted to talk to you about that’s part of your grade. The second independent study.”
“Are you talking about the Bollywood Beats choreography?”
“I am. How is the routine coming along?”
“Really good, Director.” She smiled, thinking about how much she looked forward to rehearsals.
“Really?”
“Yes. Actually, Jai and I were talking about having you come and visit one of the practices if you have some time. We’re almost done with teaching the routine. The art department is going to help us with some of the props and the backdrop.”
The director picked up a pen and wrote something down on the desk calendar in front of her. “Next week?”
“Uh, sure.”
“I’ll send you both an email about your schedule.”
Radha nodded and put her tablet in her book bag. She stood and was ready to leave the office when the director motioned for her to sit down again.
“There is one last thing. College applications are due within a week if you’re applying Early Decision. Your letters of recommendation—have you talked to any of your former teachers? Do you have them lined up yet?”
Radha shook her head. “I—I don’t know where I’d even go to college, or what I want to do. I wrote an application essay as an English class assignment, but college…I’m sorry.”
The director leaned forward, tapping the table between them. “There is absolutely no need to apologize. Or to look so terrified of me, Radha. Sometimes college isn’t for everyone. If you don’t want to go, then no one at the academy is forcing you to. My nephew is also undecided.”
She was talking about Jai, Radha realized. The director probably didn’t even know how close Radha was to her adopted family.
“Director, I want to go to college, but I just haven’t really thought about when and which one. I feel like I need to know what I want to do first, but every time I sit down to figure that out, I feel overwhelmed. I thought that maybe I’d just get through one day at a time first.”
Jai was one of the rare ones who knew exactly what he wanted to do. He’d finally told her that his dream school was Columbia. His voice pitched low, like it was his dirty secret. In the two weeks they’d been dating, she’d learned about how he’d inhaled medical journals with his nana and father when they were in rehab. How he used to study abnormalities and knew all these random facts. He subscribed to every Reddit group about dance injuries.
Jai should be thinking about college, not her.
“Why don’t you come and talk to me when you’re ready?” the director finally said.
“Okay. Director, maybe I could wait until after the Winter Showcase to make my decision?” Hopefully her feelings about dance would magically clear up by then too.
“Absolutely. Just know that I’m here to help if you need it.”
“Thank you.”
“And don’t forget to schedule an appointment with me after the Bollywood show in New York. If you don’t go, then meet with me when you have your thesis statement ready.”
“Okay.” Radha picked up her bag and was halfway to the door when she decided to shoot her shot. “Director?”
“Yes?”
“I have a question. It’s personal. About Jai.”
She hadn’t thought she’d ever see the composed head of the dance department look surprised. “What about Jai?”
“Well, we’re dating, and he told me how close you are, and how you’re the reason he started dancing in the first place.”
The director’s surprise intensified. “He told you?”
“Yes, ma’am. He also told me about Columbia, and I know we shouldn’t be talking about him behind his back, but do you know if there is anything I can do to help?”
The director sighed. “I’m sorry, Radha. I can’t discuss another student with you. Confidentiality reasons.”
“Yes, Director. Maybe just a yes-or-no answer, then?”
The director
sighed again.
“I’m going to take that as a yes. If a student has money issues, is there a scholarship connected to the academy? Funds that could help for other stuff outside of tuition?”
The director shook her head. “Not that I know of, but I like what you’re thinking. There may be private grants or scholarships for this sort of thing. But, Radha, a student would have to send those applications on his own. He would have to take the initiative. More importantly, if the student is your friend, I think your position is to support whatever he decides.”
“Really?” She took a step back. “But I agree with you that he needs to go to Columbia.”
The director shook her head. “This student’s family and I appreciate the help. But I know that if you don’t support him, it’ll do more harm than good.”
Radha nodded. The director had known Jai longer than she had. The last thing she’d want to do was hurt him.
“Well, I hope he changes his mind.”
“Me too.”
Radha adjusted her backpack again and waved one last time before closing the office door behind her. She’d support Jai just like the director had recommended, but it wouldn’t hurt for her to research grants or funding opportunities. There were also, of course, grants for business expansion. If she couldn’t find money for Jai, there was always the chance she could find money for his brothers.
She was striding down the dance wing when she saw Jai walking toward her.
“Hey!” she said.
He grinned. “Hey yourself. You finished your meeting with the director?”
“I did. She’s coming to see us next week.”
Jai leaned down and pressed a kiss against her cheek. “Awesome. I was headed to the vending machines to grab a snack before you put us through the wringer. Want to walk?”
“Oh, I actually bought some aloo tikkis with me. I know you said you wanted to try them if I got around to making them.”
His eyes widened. “Yes. You are seriously the best girlfriend ever.”
