Radha & Jai's Recipe for Romance

by Nisha Sharma

  “Sure.”

  “Was he like this with Tara?”

  “Oh no,” Shakti said, forming an X with her fingers. “I am not going there at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because trying to compare yourself to an ex is bad, Radha. You are a beautiful, unique person who is at a different point in Jai’s life.”

  “You need to stop watching TED Talks,” Radha said. “I’m just curious. Sometimes when I want to talk about after high school, he closes up on me, changes the subject, anything. I just think that maybe the people he dated had something to do with the way he treats the subject with me.”

  There was sympathy in Shakti’s eyes, and Radha hated that it was there. She didn’t want to think that there was something about Tara that made him happy, that she couldn’t do. “Give me something.”

  “Fine,” Shakti said. She looked over Radha’s shoulder and then leaned in. “Tara and Jai didn’t connect the way you two do, which is why they’re way better as friends. He was always, I don’t know, surface Jai with everybody I’ve ever seen him with. But now? He’s something more. As for his future…well, you probably know about that more than anyone. He doesn’t talk to us, either.”

  “You promise me you’re not just saying that?”

  Shakti nodded. Her large hoops brushed her shoulders. “I mean it. And if it makes you feel any better, Tara keeps texting me, asking me to call her about something that she, like, can’t text. Apparently, she texted Jai and he’s ignoring her.”

  “I mean, that’s rude, but a small part of me is okay with it too.”

  The train screeched to a halt, and static echoed through the intercom. “We’re stopping here for a moment, folks,” the conductor’s voice said. “Once the train in front of us clears the platform at Jersey Avenue, we’ll be moving again.”

  “Ugh, we’re going to be stuck on this train forever,” Shakti said.

  As soon as she said the words, the familiar opening bars of “Chaiya Chaiya” burst through the car.

  Simon, one of the freshmen, was holding up a speaker the size of his palm over his head.

  “Ohhhhh, damn!” Shakti shouted.

  Radha’s jaw dropped as her team cheered and started dancing. They began to move into the aisles, ignoring the fact that they were on New Jersey Transit. Jai grabbed the metal rack overhead and vaulted forward, moving swiftly toward her.

  “Nope, not happening, not gonna—Jai!”

  He dipped her in the center aisle before spinning her out. One of the other team members grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up. She laughed, dizzy with spinning and moving from one partner to the next.

  Then the chorus began, and everyone moved in unison.

  Radha hadn’t lived under a rock. She knew the steps just like everyone else. She laughed when she realized one of the most famous train songs in Bollywood history was playing, and she was on a train with a group of people who had the choreography down.

  Somehow Radha ended up near Jai, and they took the lead.

  “Shah Rukh Khan has nothing on you two!” Shakti yelled.

  Radha had to agree. As the music continued to echo from the small speaker, and the train car rocked from the force of everyone jumping, Radha felt dance joy grow inside her. It came all the time now, whenever she was with the team. When the music started to fade, Radha wrapped her arms around Jai, squeezing him with all her strength. He squeezed her back with the same force.

  She hoped that she could always see him this happy, and held on as long as she could.

  * * *

  The Bollywood Beats dance team found seats in the middle of the NYU auditorium. When the curtains opened and the lights dimmed, Radha squeezed Jai’s hand. Countless performances flashed in front of her eyes. Thankfully, the setting was where the similarities ended. This was nothing like a classical-dance competition. There were cheers and whistles from the audience. Some had even brought signs.

  And the dances. If this was the caliber that her team had to be in order to win, then Radha was on the right track.

  By the end of the show, she was bursting with ideas of how to tweak the routine. With a final wave to her team, she turned to Jai in the small lobby alcove. “That was amazing. I know we’re here for my independent study, but there is so much more we could do that I didn’t even think of! I’m talking a lot. I’m a little hyper. I need to calm down before we meet Winnie and Dev for dinner.”

  Jai laughed. “Well, you don’t have long. Winnie said she’d meet us here in a minute.” He peered over the crowd.

  Radha spotted Winnie first. Her childhood family friend stood in a pair of ripped jeans, a leather jacket, and Converses that had…was that Shah Rukh Khan’s face all over a white background? Her French braid swung in a perfect Bollywood heroine–like arc.

  “Hey, guys!” Winnie threw her arms around Radha first.

  The hug felt right. Even though she and Winnie would go months, sometimes a year without talking, Winnie always welcomed Radha with open arms. Sometimes literally.

  The guy she assumed was Dev stood behind her.

  “Hey,” he said. “How’s it going? Radha, right?”

  “Yes. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  He nodded, then looked over her shoulder at Jai. His polite smile morphed into a grin. “What up!” He then opened his arms just like Winnie had, and Jai hugged him the same way Radha had responded.

  “Totally unnecessary,” Winnie replied, even though she was laughing.

  “Oh, you want one too? Okay,” Jai said, and he picked Winnie up and spun her in two quick circles.

  Their relationship was close, Radha thought as she watched the three friends embrace. But that was okay. She was making her own lasting friendships now, and they were just as amazing as what Jai had with Winnie and Dev. Hopefully, one day her connection with them would be as strong.

  “I can’t believe you got away from the store on a Saturday, man,” Dev said. “Did your brothers hire some more help?”

  “No, but Nana Veeru is there. My dad wanted to go stay with him during the shift, but God knows what trouble they would’ve gotten into together.”

  “They’re both doing great?” Winnie asked. “Healthy?”

  “Both are fine. I haven’t been on the same shift as Nana for a while, but my brothers told me he’s been acting a little funky, so this may be the last time we let him get away with being on his own.” Jai shrugged. “But that’s probably more than you wanted to know.”

  Winnie squeezed his arm. “I always want to know. You can tell us the rest of the stuff that’s going on at the store when we’re at dinner,” Winnie said. “The restaurant is just a few blocks away. I hope you like it. Dev and I are obsessed.”

  “Radha? Radha Chopra?”

  Radha whirled at the sound of her name. An older woman with dark black eyeliner and a large red bindi stood in the distance, padfolio in hand. She wore a sari, and her hair had a severe part down the middle with frizzy waves that fell to her waist.

  Oh my God.

  “Didi,” Radha said. The respectful term she’d used for her dance instructor was out of her mouth before she could even think about her response. Radha approached Guru Nandani Modi, professor and celebrated kathak dance instructor, and bent to touch her feet. She had gone to India and sweated through classes at Guru Nandani’s school for countless summers. Guru Nandani had always been gentle with her, even though she was a tyrant around everyone else.

  “Betia, it’s so good to see you. You’re in New York?” she asked in Hindi. “What a lovely surprise.”

  Radha looked over her shoulder at her three friends before responding in the same language. “I live in New Jersey now. I was here just to see Bollywood Blowout. But why are you in New York? What about your school?”
<
br />   “My graduates do most of the teaching these days,” she said. “I’ve been in New York for about two years now, since shortly after you graduated from your last summer intensive. I teach kathak at Tisch.”

  “Well, New York is a dance hub.”

  “I also judge a few dance competitions.”

  Radha could see it on her face. Didi knew what had happened. Her hands began sweating and her throat began to close up.

  “Didi…”

  “Betia, you were always my best student! What happened in London?”

  “I…I learned that there was a possibility I wasn’t being judged on my skill, and I couldn’t stomach staying in the final round thinking there was a chance I really wasn’t good enough and was going to win anyway.”

  Guru Nandani gently cupped Radha’s cheek. “Radha Chopra. I never thought you were such a coward that you would let fear decide your fate.”

  “Wh-what?”

  Didi shook her head, her hand falling away. “How can you not know your skill? You were fourteen years old and dancing with masters in my studio. Even your mother, who was my other longtime student, couldn’t compare to your skill.”

  “But that doesn’t mean I’m good enough to—”

  “No,” she said. “It doesn’t mean you’re good enough. That can only be measured by your inner strength, and if you believe you’ve put everything into your performance.”

  “I have! I did!”

  “Then why did you run away?”

  “Didi, it was so much more complicated than that.”

  “It always is, betia. You are in an industry where other dancers will do or say whatever they need to in order to make you feel small. It is your responsibility to be bigger than that. If you can’t do it, then you were never meant to be a kathak dancer in the first place.”

  The thought was revolting. Never meant to be a kathak dancer? No, no, she was always meant to dance. It had been a long time since Radha had truly embraced her love for kathak, but it had never gone away.

  Instead of voicing her opinion, she counted backward in her head and folded her hands in front of her. The sweat was beginning to form on the back of her neck. Her skin felt clammy under her light jacket. She was going to start hyperventilating any second. She could feel it.

  “Now. New Jersey, you said? Princeton Academy for the Arts?”

  “Yes, D-Didi.”

  “I’ve heard wonderful things about that institution. Are you happier than you were in, where was it? Chicago?”

  She nodded.

  “You’ll do well, then. And I may see you soon. Oh, and if you’re applying to college, let me know. I’ll write you a recommendation. Email Geeta at my school office in India—the same one your mother used to register you with—and she’ll get in touch with me.”

  Radha nodded again.

  Guru Nandani patted Radha’s cheek once more and then left in a cloud of rose perfume and fluttering locks of black hair.

  The trembling started. Seconds later, she felt a familiar arm around her shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” Jai said.

  “No, I can’t—”

  “I told Winnie and Dev to leave without us. We’ll meet them at the restaurant. Why don’t we take a moment?” He led her into a hallway off the lobby. It was blissfully deserted.

  Radha leaned against the marble wall, closed her eyes, and wheezed. If there were a way to die of embarrassment, Radha would have already been cremated, her ashes strewn into the Raritan River. She tried to take a big deep breath, then another, but it wouldn’t come. She’d forgotten her inhaler again, too.

  Come on, Radha. This is a bodily function. You should be able to breathe!

  She was good enough, she thought. She was meant to dance. Her mother had ruined everything. No, Radha had ruined everything. She’d left. She’d left because she was a coward.

  “Hey,” Jai said, stepping closer. He took her hands and pressed them against his chest.

  “She called me a coward,” Radha said, gasping for air. “I’m not a coward. I just don’t want to dance, because of my panic attacks. My p-panic attacks. They. Don’t. Make. Me. A coward.”

  “Look at me,” he said, pressing her hands harder against his chest. The muscles under her fingers expanded and contracted. “Do you feel that?”

  She nodded.

  “Close your eyes and try to match your breathing with mine. Ready?”

  She nodded even as more tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Jai rested his forehead against Radha’s. “Your panic attacks are part of you, Radha,” he said. “And no one has the right to judge you. You just dance and be whatever you want to be.”

  Radha inhaled with him, then exhaled.

  She didn’t know how long they stood like that, or how many tears seeped through her lashes. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered for her other than the realization that she finally loved someone who knew everything about her, who was watching her at her worst, and who still wanted to be with her anyway.

  Chapter Seventeen

  JAI

  JAI: Sorry I missed your call.

  WINNIE: Sorry I missed yours first! I am always in class! I’ll be home for Thanksgiving, but I wanted to check in and see what’s going on. Is everything okay at home?

  JAI: Sort of. I wanted to ask you something when we visited you in the city. Director Muza and I think that we can probably win the Winter Showcase with our routine this year, but we don’t have a chance in regionals unless Radha performs with us. She’s amazing at it.

  WINNIE: Okay…what’s the problem?

  JAI: She won’t dance in the showcase. Can’t.

  WINNIE: Yikes. Okay, and why is winning regionals a thing?

  JAI: It’s selfish so I feel like a jerk for even talking about it.

  WINNIE: Spill it, Patel.

  JAI: There is a cash prize with regionals this year. It’s a lot for a smaller team of our size. My share of the money would mean that I’d have a chance of going to college. PLEASE DO NOT TELL ANYONE I TOLD YOU THIS. I AM TRUSTING YOU.

  WINNIE: Holy Vishnu, no need to be melodramatic. That’s my department.

  WINNIE: Look, the only way you’re going to be able to deal with this is talking to her. My other suggestion would be having a dance-off, but since you guys do that all the time, my good advice is wasted on you.

  JAI: Sigh. Thanks a lot.

  WINNIE: You’re welcome! Talk to her soon, though. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be for you to explain why you didn’t come to her in the first place.

  Jai eyed the box drawn with sidewalk chalk on the pavement behind the convenience store.

  He took his position. “You ready?”

  “Yeah,” Radha said. “I’ll count it down.” She pressed play on her phone. Music filtered through the small portable speaker sitting next to them on a discarded delivery crate.

  “Five, six, seven, eight.”

  He started on the left side of the mandap-shaped box.

  Radha cued his transitions as she stepped into the bride’s role. She helped him navigate over and over what he needed to know in order to lead the team.

  The music changed, and Radha called time.

  “Good,” she said. “You got it!”

  “It only took forever,” he said. “You okay going through it again before we do homework?”

  “Are you kidding me? Dance will win over equations anytime. I want to see the routine again anyway. I think with some tweaks to this part, the team will find it easier to pick up, too.”

  “When we do this onstage, we’re going to have to mark a box that’s at least twice this size; otherwise, it’s not going to make an impact with the audience.”

  “Definitely,” Radha said. She
rubbed her gloved hands together and then tucked them into the puffy vest she’d put on over her clothes. He hated that they had to practice outside in November weather, where she’d be cold, but he’d been hovering over Nana since the start of the shift, so Nana had kicked them outside.

  This past week, he hadn’t been communicating well. Masi was supposed to take him for a full blood panel and some other tests, but until that happened, he insisted on going to work.

  The last thing Jai expected was that he would be worrying about his honorary grandfather on top of everything else…like Bollywood Beats. They’d been working so hard, he thought. It would really hurt if they didn’t at least win the showcase. Jai still hadn’t told the team or Radha about Masi’s recommendation for regionals, either. He had no idea how he was supposed to bring it up.

  Radha’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “How is the art department doing with the wedding backdrop?”

  “It should be done by next weekend. And Anita said that her sister had a DIY Indian wedding, and she has a ton of leftover decorations we can use for the stage too.”

  “That’s awesome,” Radha said as she bent over to do a quick stretch. “It’s all coming together.”

  Jai hummed in agreement. “Yeah, thank God. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to work on college applications and keep up with choreography, AP classes, and working.”

  She stopped mid-stretch and then turned away from him.

  “What? What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Radha…”

  She jerked upright, her body wound as tight as a rubber band. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know why you won’t apply to Columbia.”

  “Columbia?” He backed away from her. Talk about a question from left field. “I don’t understand why you’d even ask me that.”

  “It’s your dream school, isn’t it? Fine, you’ve missed Early Decision, but Regular Decision is still open. I know your Common Application is done because the director made you fill it out. You told me that she and your AP Bio professor wrote recommendations. You showed me your essay, and it’s amazing. I’d bet that there will be absolutely no other person who writes a story on medical abnormalities and the history of dance. All you have to do is apply!”