Bhangra Babes

by Narinder Dhami

  Auntie-ji was already on her way across the road, bringing the traffic screeching to a halt by raising her hand imperiously. “Girls!” she roared. “I've found the perfect outfits for you. You simply have to come and see them!”

  “Do you think we got through to Kiran?” Geena asked as we scuttled over to her, trying to ignore the irate motorists.

  “I'm not sure,” I replied.

  But you'll be pleased to hear that I did have one of my famous ideas.

  “Urggh! Wassup?” Geena surfaced from under her duvet, blinking blearily “Oh, God, I was having the most terrible dream about that bottle-green suit Auntie-ji wanted me to buy.” She groped around on her bedside table. “Why didn't my alarm go off?”

  “It didn't go off because it's only half-past six,” I replied, moving over to the door, where I felt safer from attack.

  “What!” Geena shrieked, hurling a pillow at me. “You've woken me up an hour early?”

  “For a reason,” I said soothingly. “So calm down. I've already had the same thing from Jazz.”

  Geena pushed her hair out of her eyes and regarded me grumpily. “It had better be a damn good reason.”

  “I thought we might go round to Kiran's house this morning and check that she's coming to school,” I explained. “If she's planning to skive, we might be able to talk her into changing her mind.”

  Geena frowned. “We don't know where she lives.”

  “I phoned Mr. Arora last night and got her address,” I said, quite smugly. “I didn't tell him we saw her yesterday. I just said we thought we'd visit her, as she's been ill.”

  “Very clever,” Geena muttered. “May I ask why, if you had this idea last night, you didn't tell Jazz and me at the time?”

  “Because I knew you two would moan about getting

  up early,” I said chirpily. “Now hurry up or we'll be late.”

  I strolled out of the room, propelled on my way by another pillow smacking into the back of my head.

  Half an hour later we were on our way to Limetree Close, where Kiran lived. We'd told Auntie we were going round to visit her before school—just in case she compared notes with Mr. Arora.

  “Poor Auntie,” said Jazz. “She almost had to buy that ghastly sari Auntie-ji picked out for her.”

  “Yes, but wasn't that a master stroke, pretending to feel faint,” Geena said admiringly. “Auntie-ji practically carried her home straightaway.”

  “She can't keep pretending to faint,” said Jazz. “She's going to have to stand up to Auntie-ji sometime.”

  I shuddered. “Rather her than me. Here we are. Number fourteen.”

  Fourteen Limetree Close was a rather run-down terraced house with a small, overgrown garden. We rang the bell and waited.

  Immediately we heard yells and shouts and thunderous footsteps and a dog barking behind the front door. We all took a step backward, and Jazz clutched at me nervously.

  A woman opened the door just a tiny crack. “Yes?”

  “We're friends of Kiran's from school,” I said. “We were wondering if she'd like to walk with us this morning.”

  “Oh, that's very nice of you.”

  Mrs. Kohli opened the door wider. She wore a quilted pink dressing gown and scuffed old slippers, and her long black hair was knotted untidily on top of her head. There were shadows under her eyes. A baby wearing just a nappy clung to one of her legs, and a toddler in a Spider-Man outfit was clutching the other.

  “Do come in,” she said. “I'll call Kiran and see if she's ready.”

  We squeezed inside. The hall was awash with bikes, trikes, buggies, toys, clothes, dog's toys and lots of other bits and pieces. The living room door was open, and that was more of the same. Two slightly older kids were watching a cartoon on TV at a deafening volume.

  “Excuse the mess,” Mrs. Kohli said, glancing round helplessly. “We haven't quite settled in yet. Ah, here's Kiran.”

  Kiran had appeared at the top of the stairs in her pajamas. She looked anything but pleased to see us.

  “Your friends want to know if you'd like to walk to school with them.” Mrs. Kohli scooped up the baby with one hand and the toddler with the other. “Excuse me, girls. I must make breakfast. Why don't you go into the living room while Kiran gets dressed?”

  “Don't bother,” Kiran said rudely when her mum had gone off to the kitchen. “I don't need you to police my every move.”

  “We're just here to walk to school with you,” I said cheerfully.

  “You can't stop me running off if I want to,” snapped Kiran.

  “Yes, we can,” Jazz chimed in. “There's three of us and only one of you.”

  She dived behind Geena as Kiran thumped down the stairs toward us.

  Kiran almost smiled. “I was going to come today anyway,” she muttered. “So you don't have to wait for me.”

  “Well, we're here now,” I said. “There's no point in leaving.”

  We sat down in the living room while Kiran went to get dressed. It was rather depressing. The walls needed painting and there was no carpet on the bare boards, although there were paint pots and brushes in the corner, as well as some carpet samples.

  “Hello,” I said to the girl and boy who were watching TV—they seemed about five and seven years old. They looked at me as if I was mad, and didn't answer.

  “Mrs. Kohli seems rushed off her feet,” I remarked.

  “Kiran probably has to help out quite a bit,” said Geena. “I had to do that when you and Jazz were kids.”

  “Oh, yes,” Jazz sniffed, “I do seem to remember that you bossed us around a lot.”

  The door opened. The baby waddled in and proceeded to climb onto Geena's lap. He or she (I couldn't quite tell) was followed by a large, hairy dog who wanted to climb onto Jazz.

  “Help!” Jazz wailed, trying to push him away.

  “No, help me,” Geena said urgently, holding out the baby, who'd just started to bawl. “I think this nappy needs changing.”

  Kiran came into the room. “Sharukh, sit!” she said briskly.

  The dog got off the sofa and lay quietly at our feet. Meanwhile, Kiran took the baby and, under our fascinated gaze, whisked the dirty nappy off, cleaned him up and put a fresh one on. All this was done gently but with great efficiency. Then she disappeared to the kitchen to wash her hands.

  “Well!” said Geena. “She's full of surprises, isn't she?”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed.

  We said goodbye to Mrs. Kohli and to the kids, who again took no notice, and left with Kiran.

  “You've got a lot of brothers and sisters,” said Jazz. “How do you cope? I find Geena and Amber a complete nightmare.”

  “How amusing you are,” I cut in. “I think you'll find it's Geena and I who struggle to cope.”

  “It's a terrible trial being the eldest, isn't it?” Geena said to Kiran. “Everyone expects you to be sensible and practical and helpful.”

  “I don't mind,” Kiran muttered. But she did look miserable. She was slouching along with her head down, hands in her pockets. And she looked tired, with great black rings under her eyes.

  “Does the baby keep you awake much at night?” I asked sympathetically.

  “Well, that's what babies do,” Kiran replied with a shrug. “Anyway, I'm all right. Everything's OK.” But her shoulders drooped more than ever.

  “Look, if you want to talk to someone,” I went on,

  “Mr. Arora's very good. And Mr. Hernandez may seem like a psychopath, but he's great too—”

  “Can you please not be nice to me,” Kiran interrupted in a stifled voice. “I can't handle it right now.”

  She strode off toward the school gates, leaving us feeling worse than if we'd been nasty to her.

  “Shall I go after her?” I asked doubtfully. But at precisely that minute, as if by magic, George Botley appeared from a shop doorway.

  “Hey, Amber,” he said.

  “Hello,” I said coolly, remembering his disparaging remarks about
Rocky the day before. “What are you doing lurking around there?”

  “I wasn't lurking,” George said defensively. “I was tying my shoelaces.”

  “You were lurking,” I stated firmly.

  Geena and Jazz were giggling like drains.

  “Can I carry your bag?” George asked, which sent Geena and Jazz into overdrive.

  “No, you can't,” I said sternly, although secretly I was quite pleased. “You'd probably chuck it in the school pond or something.”

  “Ah, that was the old George.” George grinned at me, showing quite nice white even teeth. “This is the new, improved version.”

  “Well, you'll have to improve a bit more before I let you carry my bag,” I replied, and flounced off.

  “It looks like George still has a thing for you, Amber,” Geena said gleefully, following me into the

  playground. “Maybe you should concentrate on him and let me and Jazz fight it out for Rocky.”

  “No chance,” I snapped. “I'm going to grind you two into the dust.”

  Geena and Jazz both laughed derisively and went off to join their own mates. Meanwhile, I wandered across the playground to sit on the wall outside the canteen. I must admit, George's show of devotion had given me a bit of a boost, even though I wasn't interested in him. No, really.

  The silver Mercedes drew up at the curb, and Rocky climbed gracefully out. Automatically the hands of every girl within a three-meter radius moved up to tidy her hair, including mine. There was a swish of collective eyelash fluttering as he strolled into the playground, swinging his rucksack casually by the strap.

  I can pinpoint this as the exact moment when I had my utterly fabulous idea.

  I jumped to my feet. There was the answer to our problem, strolling across the playground, looking drop-dead gorgeous. I briefly debated running it past Geena and Jazz first, then decided against it. They were always a touch rude about my ideas. They could thank me later.

  “Rocky!” I waved at him and he came over to me.

  “What's up, Amber?” he said lazily. “How you doin'?”

  “Fine.” I beamed and did a bit of eyelash fluttering of my own. “I've got a favor to ask you.”

  “Yeah?” Rocky grinned. “Shoot.”

  “You know that girl who was in Shanti's on Saturday?” I began.

  Rocky's face darkened. “You mean Kirandeep whatever-her-name-is? Yeah, I haven't forgotten her.”

  This wasn't a promising start, but I pressed on. “Well, I can't go into details, but she's having a few problems settling in. And Mr. Arora—my auntie's fiance—asked if we'd keep an eye on her.”

  Rocky's beautiful, long-lashed eyes were glazing over with boredom. “What has this got to do with me?” he yawned.

  I decided to go for it. “I thought it might help if you made friends with her.”

  Rocky yawned again. It seemed to take a while for my words to penetrate his brain. But when they did, he let out an angry yelp. “You what?”

  “Well, it makes perfect sense,” I rushed on. “Everyone likes you and you're already very popular—”

  “True,” Rocky agreed.

  “Kiran would feel really good if you were her friend,” I said. It did make perfect sense.

  Rocky looked thoughtful. “I see that,” he mused. Then he frowned. “But I couldn't possibly fancy someone whose hands are bigger than mine.”

  “I'm not asking you to date her,” I said quickly. “Just be her friend.”

  Rocky put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the canteen wall. “No,” he said casually. “I don't think so.”

  I felt a rush of disappointment. I was hoping to appeal to Rocky's generous, compassionate side, but that didn't seem to be working.

  “What would we talk about?” Rocky went on. “We've got nothing in common.”

  “You both like bhangra,” I pointed out. However, that was a mistake. Rocky scowled as he remembered the events of Saturday afternoon.

  “Forget it,” he muttered. “Unless …” He stared thoughtfully at me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I'll do a deal with you,” Rocky said slowly. “Your auntie's marrying that teacher guy, isn't she?”

  I blinked at the rapid change of subject. “Mr. Arora, yes.” I couldn't see what in the wide world this had to do with Kiran.

  “All right, here's the deal.” Rocky grinned at me. “You know I'm looking for my first gig. If I can play at your aunt's wedding reception, then I'll sort Kiran out.”

  “But—how am I supposed to arrange that?” I spluttered. Visions of Auntie and Auntie-ji swam into my head. I could just imagine what they'd both say if I tried to muscle in on arrangements that were already bristling with tensions.

  Rocky shrugged. “That's your problem. Oh, and I want to DJ as well as perform my own songs.”

  I was silent for a moment.

  “Oh, all right, then,” I said recklessly.

  I was still reeling from the shock of what I'd just agreed to when Rocky walked off. Of course, Geena and Jazz came rushing straight over. They'd finally noticed that I was alone with Rocky, and naturally they couldn't wait to find out what we'd been talking about.

  “That was very sneaky, Amber,” Geena said disapprovingly. “What's going on?”

  “You're not going to believe it,” I muttered.

  “Oh, tell,” demanded Jazz.

  Kim came up to us at that moment, red in the face and panting heavily. “I've had to run all the way,” she complained. “I've been waiting for you for ages.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “We came a different way this morning.”

  “Well, thanks for letting me know,” Kim snapped. “I was nearly late, and all because—”

  “Oh, do be quiet, Kim,” said Jazz. “Amber was about to tell us something important.”

  Kim sighed deeply. “About Rocky, I suppose. That's all you three ever talk about these days—”

  “Shut up, Kim!” we chorused.

  “Well?” Geena asked.

  I cleared my throat. “You see, I had this brilliant idea—”

  Loud groans, which I ignored.

  “I thought that if Rocky made friends with Kiran, it might help her feel a bit better about herself,” I went on. “It'd cheer her up to have the best-looking boy in the school as a mate.”

  “How shallow,” said Kim sternly. “I thought you had more sense than that, Amber.”

  “It's not shallow at all,” said Geena. “It's good psychology.”

  “Absolutely,” Jazz agreed. “So you asked Rocky, and he said yes?”

  “That shows just how truly gorgeous he is,” sighed Geena. “Not many guys would be happy to do such a thing. Especially when it's someone like Kiran.”

  “Er—it wasn't exactly like that,” I muttered uncomfortably. “We made a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” asked Kim.

  “Well…” I shuffled my feet a little. “That he would make friends with Kiran, and in return, he gets to play at Auntie's wedding reception.”

  Geena's and Jazz's mouths fell open in one perfect, synchronized movement. They stared at me, goggle-eyed, and then both began to laugh hysterically.

  “What's so funny?” said Kim.

  “I was about to ask the same thing myself,” I snapped.

  “Where have you been for the last couple of weeks, Amber?” Geena chortled. “Haven't you noticed just how tense this whole wedding thing has got? Auntie's ready to kill somebody, and Auntie-ji's probably already organized the London Symphony Orchestra to turn up and perform classical versions of Bollywood hits.”

  “Oh, my sides ache.” Jazz hugged her ribs. “I can't wait for you to tell Auntie and Auntie-ji. Please don't do it unless Geena and I are there.”

  “I think you're making too much of this,” I said in a dignified manner. “They'll probably be pleased that at least something's been sorted out. They won't have to worry about music or finding a DJ.”

  “Rocky's DJ-ing as well?” Jaz
z shrieked with delight. “Oh, this just gets better. Good luck, Amber. You're going to need it.”

  “I don't know why you're doing this anyway,” Kim said, raising her voice over the peal of the morning bell. “Kiran's much too intelligent to want to hang around with Rocky.”

  I shot her a poisonous glare. “Thanks.”

  “Well, you three are just doing it for a bet,” Kim said sagely, lifting her bag onto her shoulder. “If you

  weren't, you'd be able to see that he isn't quite as wonderful as you think he is—”

  “Kim, how about we agree on some sort of sign?” I said cuttingly. “Then when you annoy me, I could just do this”—I flicked her lightly on the nose—“or this”— I slapped her on the back—“and then you'd know you were annoying me, and you could stop.”

  “I'll never stop trying to get you to see sense,” Kim replied, marching into school ahead of me.

  “That reminds me,” said Geena, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. “What about our bet?”

  “Oh, that's still on,” I said. “This won't make any difference. Kiran is definitely not Rocky's type.”

  We followed Kim into school. There was no point in worrying about what Auntie and Auntie-ji would say when I presented them with my musical fait accompli, I decided. My main problem would be checking to see if Rocky kept his word to get to know Kiran.

  So, to this end, I made sure I cornered Rocky in the corridor after the first lesson. It meant I had to sprint down two corridors and up two flights of stairs, risking instant detention, but I caught him just as he was about to go into the science lab. He was lounging around outside, chatting a bit too flirtatiously for my liking with Sadia Khan.

  “Well?” I asked.

  Rocky looked at me blankly. “Well what?”

  “Have you made a start?”

  Rocky stared at me in utter bewilderment.

  “Kiran!” I said through my teeth.

  “Give me a break,” Rocky snapped. “She's not in my class. She's not even in my year. How am I supposed to get to know her?”

  “You can smile at her in assembly,” I said urgently. “You can make sure you pass her in the corridors between lessons. I'll give you a copy of her timetable. And then there's break times and lunchtimes and after school—”