Bollywood Dreams

by Arlene Phillips

  Alana sat down, laughing with relief. Of course it was Nalini who’d taken the necklace! She was exactly like Abi – she loved sparkly things. The trouble was that unlike the necklaces in Alana’s jewellery box, this one was made of real gold and real sapphires – it definitely wasn’t something to play with!

  ‘I was only borrowing it!’ sobbed Nalini to a furious Katika, back in the make-up van. ‘I just wanted to pretend to be a real film star like you. I didn’t think you’d mind, cos you left it on the table when you went back on to the set.’

  ‘Surely you must have realised how valuable it was!’ yelled Katika. ‘The whole film was nearly ruined because of you!’

  ‘I really don’t think she meant to be naughty,’ said Alana shyly. ‘She just didn’t realise how important the necklace was.’

  Katika’s face softened. ‘I guess you’re right, Alana,’ she said, and she held out her arms to Nalini. ‘The main thing is that we’ve found the necklace and we can carry on with the film,’ she said, giving her sister a hug. ‘I should never have taken it off in the first place.’

  Straight away, Nalini was all smiles again.

  Katika turned to Alana. ‘I’m so grateful to you,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t found Nalini with the necklace, who knows what we would have done.’

  Katika opened a box and took out another necklace. It was much smaller than the one she was wearing for the film, but just as pretty, with lots of intricate gold decoration and a real sapphire right in the middle.

  ‘Here,’ she said, clasping it round Alana’s neck. ‘This is for you – for saving the film.’

  ‘I love it!’ said Alana, beaming from ear to ear. ‘Thank you so much!’

  She stroked her sparkly necklace as she watched Katika and Nalini leaving the room. Then all at once she heard a familiar voice from far away. ‘Remember, ma petite, when your good deed is done, the call of home will beckon. You will return home! You will return home!’

  Alana began to feel a whirling sensation again, and the ground seemed to disappear beneath her feet. She closed her eyes but kept a firm hold on her necklace.

  Madame Coco’s voice grew louder and louder. ‘You will return home!’ she called. Then, with a jolt, Alana felt her feet touch the ground again and the whirling feeling stopped.

  Alana opened her eyes to find herself back in Madame Coco’s shop. Madame Coco was sitting smiling at her. Glancing at the grandfather clock on the wall, Alana saw that, as usual, no time had passed at all since she had left the shop for her extraordinary adventure.

  ‘Why don’t you change out of your costume, ma chérie?’ asked Madame Coco. ‘Then you may take it home. And your little friend is welcome to wear it for her audition, if she wishes.’

  ‘Oh, thank you, Madame Coco!’ exclaimed Alana. ‘You’re so kind. I’ll bring it back to you soon, I promise!’

  Alana dashed out of the shop and ran straight for Meena’s house.

  ‘I’ve had this great idea for your Bollywood routine!’ she said, as soon as Meena answered the door. ‘We have to go and practise it now!’

  ‘I’ve already told you, there’s no point,’ sighed Meena. ‘Verity’s bound to get the part, with all her fancy lessons. You know that.’

  But Alana was not deterred.

  ‘Trust me,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve thought of some really amazing moves.’

  Before Meena had time to say anything else, Alana marched past her into the house, and up the stairs into the bedroom. There wasn’t much choice but to follow.

  Alana went straight over to Meena’s pink CD player. It already had a CD of Bhangra music in it, so she only had to press ‘play’. Then, to Meena’s astonishment, Alana danced the entire Bollywood routine she had learned on the film set in Mumbai.

  ‘How did you learn that?’ demanded Meena, the moment the song finished.

  ‘Oh, I just sort of thought of it,’ replied Alana, vaguely, then she quickly changed the subject. ‘Let’s start the music again,’ she said, ‘and I’ll show you the steps.’

  ‘But Alana,’ Meena said, ‘your Bhangra is fantastic! It’s you who should be doing this audition, not me.’

  ‘No way,’ replied Alana. ‘I’ve got this maths project to worry about. If I tell Mum I’m trying to get a part in a Bollywood show, she’ll throw a total fit.’

  ‘OK, I’ll give it a try, but I’ll have to work hard,’ said Meena, ‘and I still don’t know what I’m going to wear to the audition. Verity’s going to have such a fantastic costume, and I bet lots of the other girls will have cool outfits, too. I don’t have anything unless I cut up one of my mum’s saris, and I’ll look ridiculous. I can’t sew.’

  ‘How about this?’ said Alana. And she drew out of the bag the salwar kameez that Madame Coco had lent her. The blue and gold beads gleamed, and the light from Meena’s bedroom lamp made the hundreds of tiny mirrors sparkle.

  Meena took it carefully from Alana, unable to speak. She stroked the soft silk and draped the beaded scarf lovingly round her neck. But then, her face falling, she handed the outfit back to Alana.

  ‘I couldn’t borrow this,’ she murmured.

  ‘It’s far too precious and beautiful. Where did you even get it?’

  ‘Just from a friend,’ Alana replied. ‘And the friend actually said that you were welcome to borrow it.’

  ‘Seriously? Wow!’ said Meena. ‘That’s so nice.’

  ‘So,’ said Alana, ‘you’ll try for the audition?’

  ‘I guess so!’ replied Meena, laughing. Her eyes shone with excitement as she changed into the costume, being careful not to crease it.

  The girls spent the rest of the evening going through the routine, Alana doing a few steps then getting Meena to copy her until she got it right. Meena was such a good dancer it didn’t take her long to pick up the moves. Soon, she was doing high kicks, step turns and side pumps as if she’d been dancing Bhangra for ever.

  Finally, just as they were beginning to think they could dance no more, Meena’s grandma came in carrying two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. ‘I don’t know what you two have been doing up here,’ she said, ‘but there was certainly a lot of thumping!’

  Meena and Alana just smiled.

  After supper, Meena’s dad drove Alana home. As Alana approached the front door, her mood dropped. The heat and excitement of Bollywood drifted out of her head, only to be replaced with thoughts of her maths project and Miss Walcott, and her mum’s threat to make her give up dancing.

  I absolutely have to work on my project tomorrow, thought Alana, feeling ill just thinking about it.

  When she got inside, Abi was already fast asleep. ‘She’s stopped being sick, thank goodness,’ whispered her mum. Alana crept into her sister’s room and kissed her gently goodnight, then she wearily got ready for bed herself. She had so much to worry about, though, that it was very late before she finally drifted off.

  Alana spent the whole of the next day at school in a panic about her maths project. ‘I’ve been thinking about nothing but Bollywood, Bollywood, Bollywood,’ she said to herself. ‘My project has to be finished in less than a week and I haven’t a clue how to begin it!’

  At Step Out Studio that evening she sat in a corner with her maths book on her knee, waiting for class to start. She stared and stared at the page, but nothing seemed to go in.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Matthew, coming up to her. ‘You look like the world’s about to end.’

  ‘I think it just about is,’ replied Alana, trying to smile. And she told Matthew all about the project: how if she didn’t do well enough at it Miss Walcott would tell her mother, and that then she wouldn’t be able to come to Step Out Studio any more.

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ said Matthew, looking puzzled. ‘When we’re rehearsing dance steps, you’re always having to do those complicated counts in your head. You’re brilliant at it. You hardly ever get it wrong.’

  ‘I guess,’ replied Alana, thoughtfully, remembering the film set in Mumbai and how s
he had had to count her steps.

  ‘And even if you are having a problem with a particular set of steps, you don’t give up. You just keep on practising until you’ve got it right,’ Matthew continued. ‘So, if you can do that, you can’t be rubbish at maths.’

  All through the class that evening, Alana thought about what Matthew had said. ‘Maybe he’s right,’ she said to herself. ‘Maybe I can do my maths project if I just think about it as if I’m learning a dance.’

  After the class, Alana and Meena stayed behind. Miss Trina had agreed to let Meena go through the Bollywood routine in the rehearsal room.

  Alana started and stopped the music as she watched Meena practising the steps again and again. It was a struggle to focus on what her friend was doing, and her mind kept drifting off to her own problems. Then, just as they were rehearsing the final few moves, the girls noticed a face peering through one of the small panes of glass in the studio doors. The moment their eyes met, the face vanished. ‘That’s odd,’ Alana said to Meena. ‘I thought everyone had gone home.’

  They went out into the lobby to investigate, only to see the front doors of the dance school banging shut as though someone had just left. They ran to the doors and there was a girl hurrying away from them down the path.

  ‘It’s Verity!’ exclaimed Alana.

  ‘Why was she spying on us?’ wondered Meena.

  ‘She probably just wanted to see what your audition piece was like. I bet she’s worried now she realises your routine is so good.’

  ‘That must be it,’ said Meena.

  As soon as Alana arrived home that evening, she settled down to her maths project. ‘Pretend you’re learning a new dance,’ she kept saying to herself. And to her amazement, the numbers started to make sense. Two hours later and she put her books away. That’s the best I’m going to manage, she thought. I just hope it’s good enough.

  The day of Meena’s audition arrived and Alana came to the theatre to help her get ready.

  ‘Seems like we’re the first ones here,’ said Alana, looking around. On a desk there was a pile of entry forms which had been arranged in the order the dancers were to audition. ‘Verity’s on first,’ said Alana, leafing through the pile. ‘And you’re right at the end.’

  ‘Phew,’ sighed Meena. ‘I’m glad I’m not first or I’d be even more nervous than I am already.’

  ‘You’ve no need to be nervous,’ replied Alana. ‘Your routine’s brilliant and your costume’s incredible, too.’

  In the dressing room, Alana helped Meena put Madame Coco’s costume on. Then she carefully drew thick black outlines round Meena’s eyes, just as Preeti had done for her in Mumbai. She brushed Meena’s hair till it was gleaming, and pinned it up for her with one of her sparkly hair slides. When she was finished, Meena slipped Madame Coco’s four bangles on to her wrists, then she twirled around with a swoosh of silk and a rattle of beads.

  ‘You look just like a Bollywood film star!’ exclaimed Alana, secretly thinking of Katika. Meena seemed embarrassed, but pleased at the same time.

  Then it was time to warm up at the side of the stage. Verity walked in wearing a costume covered in bright pink jewels and sequins, with purple flowers woven through the silk.

  ‘You look great!’ Verity said to Meena when she saw her. ‘I hope you do really well in your audition.’

  ‘Er, thanks, Verity – you too,’ Meena replied.

  Meena and Alana exchanged a puzzled glance when Verity’s back was turned. It wasn’t like her to be so nice.

  Alana stayed to watch the warm-up, but she still couldn’t stop worrying about her maths project. Would it be good enough? She’d tried her best, but she still wasn’t at all confident about it and she couldn’t get out of her head the thought that she may not be able to go to Step Out studio again.

  Alana gazed absentmindedly at Verity practising her dance routine. Suddenly, she sat bold upright.

  ‘I don’t believe it!’ she muttered. She leapt up, grabbed Meena by the elbow, nearly pulling her off balance just as she was in the middle of a tricky spin, and dragged her backstage. As they passed Verity, Alana caught a glimpse of her watching them with a smirk on her face.

  ‘What is it? What’s going on?’ Meena demanded.

  ‘Verity’s copied your routine!’ cried Alana. ‘That must have been why she was spying on us at Step Out Studio. She’s stolen your dance!’

  ‘Well, I’m just going to have to dance better than her, then!’ said Meena, looking determined.

  ‘But that’s not the point!’ Alana replied. ‘Verity’s on first, remember. All the other students have to sit in the theatre to watch each other audition. So when it comes to your turn, the judges are going to think that you’ve copied her routine.’

  Meena sat on the floor and bent her head down to her lap. ‘Well, there’s just no point then. I may as well go home now. I’d rather not audition at all than have the judges think I’ve cheated.’

  But Alana had other ideas. ‘Come with me and just go along with what I’m saying,’ she ordered. She took Meena by the elbow and marched towards the desk that had the entry forms on it.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said to a stern woman sitting behind the desk, whom she presumed was the casting director. ‘I think someone’s stuck in the toilets. I heard banging and shouting.’

  Meena looked at Alana in surprise, but didn’t say anything.

  The woman sighed. ‘I’ll go and see,’ she replied.

  The second she was out of sight, Alana grabbed the pile of entry forms and swapped Verity’s and Meena’s round. Then, she quickly led Meena back towards the side of the stage where all the dancers were practising their routines. ‘Now the judges won’t think you’re cheating,’ she whispered as they went.

  Just before they got there, they met the casting director coming away from the toilets.

  ‘I didn’t hear any noise,’ she said to them, a bit crossly.

  ‘Oh – that’s strange,’ Alana replied innocently, opening her eyes wide. ‘Maybe it was a just a cat or something.’

  ‘Hmmmm,’ said the woman, looking at her suspiciously.

  ‘Anyway,’ said Alana, ‘Meena needs to get back to her warm-up …’

  As they made their way to a space at the side of the stage, Alana saw Verity redoing her hair and smoothing her costume, preparing to be called out first.

  When Meena started to warm up again, Alana could see that her movements were stiff and awkward. Her expression made her look more like she was dancing in a bus queue, than in an exotic Indian palace.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Alana asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ groaned Meena. ‘I just feel so stressed out by Verity, and changing the entry forms, and having to go on first and everything. I don’t think I can do this any more.’

  Alana thought frantically. What could she do to give Meena her confidence back? There wasn’t much time. Then she remembered the necklace Katika had given her. She’d kept it with her ever since, as a good luck token.

  ‘Here,’ she said to Meena, taking it out. ‘Put this on.’ She fastened it round Meena’s neck. ‘Now you really do look like a Bollywood star,’ she said. ‘And you’re going to dance like one, too!’

  Meena beamed. ‘You’re such a good friend,’ she said to Alana, giving her a hug. ‘You’ve helped me so much with this audition. I don’t even know how to say “thank you”.’

  ‘Just give it all you’ve got!’ replied Alana. ‘That’s the only thanks I need.’

  When it was Meena’s turn to audition, she ran on to the stage, her eyes sparkling like the necklace. As soon as she began to dance, you could have heard a pin drop. Alana kept her eyes on the judges’ faces as they watched Meena’s performance. They were all smiling. ‘I hope she gets the part, I hope she gets the part,’ Alana quietly repeated under her breath, her fingers crossed.

  When Meena had finished dancing, she got changed and went to sit with Alana in the auditorium to watch the other dancers. ‘Here’
s your necklace,’ she whispered, handing it back to her.

  Lots of the dancers did routines that weren’t in the Bollywood style at all. There was ballet and tap, and even hip-hop. It was obvious that these girls had no experience of Bhangra and didn’t even care. They were just trying their luck. There was one girl, though, called Emily, who performed a very impressive Bollywood dance. She definitely stood a good chance of being chosen.

  When it came to Verity’s turn, she walked on to the stage looking furious – not at all like a Bollywood heroine. She’d been expecting to be first on stage, and instead she was last. Now the judges would be able to see that she had copied Meena’s routine. As she watched her dance, Alana could see that she hadn’t rehearsed for long enough. Serves her right, thought Alana. She should have stuck with the routine she learned in the first place, rather than copying Meena’s.

  Once Verity had left the stage and rejoined the others in the auditorium, the choreographer stood up. ‘I want to thank you all for coming today,’ she announced. ‘We enjoyed everyone’s dancing, but there is only one role for a young dancer in the show.’

  There was complete silence as everyone held their breath.

  ‘We need to spend some time deciding which dancer to choose,’ the choreographer continued, ‘so thank you all and we will phone everyone this evening with the result.’

  An audible groan went around the theatre – no one wanted to wait till the evening to hear whether they’d got the part.

  ‘Why don’t you come back to my place, Alana?’ asked Meena. ‘It would make me feel better to have someone to wait with.’