by Nisha Sharma
Winnie rounded the corner and sighed when she saw him waiting for her in the art studio. Foam boards were propped on easels in a U shape in front of him. The room was empty except for the smell of turpentine and the sound of music playing through the wall-mounted speakers.
“This is the fourth time you’ve called me over in the last three weeks for some emergency,” she said, pushing away from the doorjamb. “First it was a problem with the location, then you couldn’t figure out the agenda, and yesterday the website was down. I have no idea why I bother coming.”
“Why do you?”
She dropped her backpack on an empty stool and peeled off her jacket. “Maybe it’s because I’m hoping in exchange for my time, you’ll report Jenny Dickens to the administration for her psycho behavior.”
Raj shrugged sheepishly. “She’s harmless, but I’m sorry about all the rumors she’s spreading. She’ll get over it soon, I hope.”
“Yeah, because being told that I’m a ho for being with you and with Dev is getting old. She’s stalking you, and now she’s stalking me and sabotaging. She’s like Swimfan or an equally atrocious villain.”
“What about Shah Rukh Khan in Fan?”
Winnie laughed. “Or Kajol in Gupt. So far she hasn’t gone psycho like Kajol, but she keeps posting all of these passive-aggressive messages about revenge. That screams problem to me.”
Raj straightened his sweater vest before tucking his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants. “I’ll deal with it, I promise. I feel bad because I wasn’t straight with her and didn’t tell you how I felt about…well, you know.”
“I know,” Winnie said. She strolled toward the first poster to study it. There was a movie reel with the lead reading the name of the festival. Underneath that, the Princeton University location and the date and time were stamped in gothic lettering. They only had two and a half months to go before the festival.
Raj stepped up behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders. She quickly sidestepped out of his reach.
“Raj…”
“Friends can’t touch each other?”
“Not if that friend has ulterior motives,” she murmured, and moved to the next poster. The background image was of a velvet red curtain. The lettering was simple with glitter edges.
“Let’s use this one for the tickets and the posters, while rebranding the website with the same colors and the same artwork scheme. Even though the fund-raiser is next weekend, I think we can get this printed in time for the dance, too.”
Raj didn’t say anything, and when she faced him, he was smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing. I couldn’t pick one, and you decided in seconds.”
“Well, it’s probably because I spent most of the summer thinking about this in my spare time. Okay, you got this from here. See you later.”
Before she could leave, Mr. Reece appeared in the doorway. “Winnie. Raj.”
“Mr. Reece,” Winnie said. “It’s been a while since you’ve come to one of our events. I was going to send you a meme of the Millennium Falcon just so you’d remember my name.”
“I don’t understand why it’s so hard for you to learn the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek. You picked up physics easily enough. Anyway, Ms. Sealy said that you two were taking up her spare art room for the festival, so I came down to check in. Are we still on track?”
“Winnie has actually covered for me on a lot of the details,” Raj said.
“Raj, we talked about this.”
“I know,” he said with a shrug. “But I have a lot going on. I told you it was too much work for one of us to handle, even with the committees taking care of the venue decorating, the movie submissions, and the judging.”
“I offered to lend a hand so I can show leadership initiative,” Winnie said with a smile. She was grateful that Raj was helping her, but when Mr. Reece arched an eyebrow, she wondered if their joint efforts were working. “I’m handling it, Mr. Reece,” she continued. “We have some time until the festival, and the fund-raiser is booked in the school ballroom for next weekend. The film-club funds are being used for the food, and we have an alumnus playing DJ, so we’re saving money there. I’m operating completely within the rules of how a club should work.”
Mr. Reece smiled, the first genuine smile she’d seen from him since he became the film-club faculty advisor. “And the master-class status?”
Since Mr. Reece was looking at her and not Raj, Winnie answered. “I’ve coordinated with the Princeton film club. As long as Gurinder Chadha shows up, we’ll be good to go.”
He headed for the door. “Good job, Ms. Mehta. Maybe you deserve a co-chair position after all,” he said over his shoulder.
When Winnie couldn’t hear his footsteps anymore, she gave in to the temptation to squeal and started jumping up and down.
“See? I knew you could do it,” Raj said. “Sorry I haven’t been as helpful.”
She shook her head. “You’ve done a lot, and I get why you can’t push Reece too hard. You have to get into your Boston school and need the film festival on your application. You technically don’t have to help your ex, so I appreciate it.”
“Appreciate it enough to come with me for a quick side trip to the auditorium?” he said.
“What for?”
“Come and see.”
“I have plans tonight,” she said to Raj. “It has to be quick.”
He grinned. “As quick or as long as you want.”
“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “Why not? For old times’ sake.”
She noticed the flash of sadness in his eyes, but didn’t comment as he led her to the auditorium. When he opened the double doors, Winnie saw the huge white screen that spanned the stage.
Raj stepped aside and motioned toward it with a bow. “After you.”
“What are you up to?” she asked as she headed down the aisle.
“I arranged it before you met me in the art room. I was hoping you could watch something with me before you left.”
A small projector was placed in front of the stage, pointing at the screen. Next to it was Raj’s laptop. She moved to sit in the front row, but he stopped her.
“The world may sit in the front row—”
“But Indians sit in the back,” she said with a laugh. “Or people who know that’s how you get the whole picture.” She grabbed the center seat in the center row. Raj set something up on his laptop, and when a movie started playing, Winnie’s palms grew damp. This felt…wrong.
Raj sat next to her as the opening scene started rolling.
“Dil To Pagal Hai?” she said as her uneasiness grew.
“Yeah. It’s been a while since we’ve seen this.”
“For good reason. I’m sorry—I can’t stay, Raj. I have to go.”
“Why?” he asked, standing when she did.
“Because you’re doing this to remind me of my destiny, and I don’t like it. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that the prophecy is mine to believe in. I get to decide if I want to be with someone who fits Pandit Ohmi’s prediction.”
“Winnie,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just a movie. Our favorite movie, in fact. And maybe it was because it reminded you so much about the prophecy, but we still had fun watching it over the years. It’s the only exception to my rule about never rewatching a movie if I don’t have to.”
“But that’s in the past,” she said. “I know you’ve been calling me so we can spend more time together, but this is too much.”
Raj ran his hands through his hair and frowned. “I’m trying here, Winnie. I haven’t even mentioned that I think you should still come to Boston with me instead of New York—”
“Yeah, well, you just did. I can’t believe you and I dated for all these years and you never thought I’d make it as a film critic.” She could feel herself getting worked up, and her anger mixed with hurt.
“Having a blog doesn’t make you a film critic,” he snapped.
“
That’s it. I’m done.” She grabbed her bag and headed for the door.
Raj called out after her. “Wait. I’m sorry. Winnie, I’m sorry. I’m frustrated that you’re dragging your heels, that’s all. I’ll make it up to you. Next weekend when we go to the fund-raiser dance—”
She stopped and turned on her heel in the aisle. “ ‘We’? What do you mean by ‘we’?”
“Well, I figured I’d pick you up, we’d go to the dance early to make sure everything is set up, and then we could eat and drink for the rest of the night. That’s how we always planned it.”
“But we’re not together.”
“I know, but we’re going to the dance as friends, right? We’ve gone to every school dance together. The fund-raiser shouldn’t be an exception.”
“Raj. I’m going with Dev.”
“Come on. You can’t be serious. We have three years together. What do you even see in Dev? He’s such a smug prick, thinking he’s better than everyone.”
“Hey!” Winnie yelled. “Don’t talk about him like that. You don’t know him. You’re the one who saw he liked me freshman year and went behind your friend’s back to date me. If I’d known…”
Holy baby Shah Rukh Khan. She hadn’t meant to say that.
Raj stood, stone-faced. When he didn’t deny the claim, she knew more than ever that nothing was going to be the same.
“How could you?” she whispered.
“He wasn’t for you,” Raj said calmly. “We were meant to be, Winnie. Bracelet, name, everything. And we still are. It’s your prophecy, but I’m part of it.”
“You only gave me that bracelet because you thought that’s what was expected of you, Raj. What does that say about you and me? And it was really easy for you to go to Jenny when I wasn’t around during the summer. The minute we met again at the first film-club meeting—no, when you heard Dev comment on how I looked at that meeting—all of a sudden you were interested again.”
“That’s not true.”
Winnie walked to him, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed his smooth cheek. “If I don’t see you in the halls, I’ll meet up with you next week before the fund-raiser to help the committee set up.”
She walked away, ignoring his protests, his apologies, everything. Raj was behind her now, and she needed to start acting like she believed it.
* * *
—
Winnie wore a white tunic top, a white chuni, and white balloon pants. Her frizzy hair fell in waves past her shoulders. She stood in the middle of a mustard field, a farmhouse in the distance. The sound of a cowbell and familiar chords playing on a mandolin rang over the wide spaces. There was nothing but blue skies, the smell of fresh, clean air, and music.
“Shah Rukh Khan, if you think I wouldn’t recognize one of your most famous scenes from Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge, then you’re crazy!”
She started running toward the sound, hoping that she could find him, find the one person who might be able to provide her with some insight into her life. She stopped when the field cleared and she saw the actor wearing a leather jacket and carrying a polished mandolin.
“Why, hello there, señorita,” he said with a bow.
Winnie ran just as gracelessly as Kajol had, and dove straight into his arms.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” she said.
“I came to tell you two things,” he said, stepping back.
“Okay, hit me.”
“If you walk on the wrong path, then maybe in the beginning you’ll achieve a lot of happiness and success, but in the end you’ll lose. If you walk on the right path, then maybe at the start you’ll get rejections at every step, but in the end you’ll always win.”
Winnie threw her hands up and got caught in her chuni. She pulled the shawl off her face and crossed her arms over her chest. “Seriously? The only advice you’re giving me is a movie quote? I thought we were past that.”
“Think about it,” he said with his signature shaky laugh.
“If I travel the wrong path, then I’ll lose, but if I travel the right path, there will be pitfalls but eventually I’ll win. Okay, so even though Dev isn’t part of my prophecy, things are going to suck for a bit, but in the end I’m making the right decision?”
Shah Rukh Khan backed up even farther, arms spread wide. “I don’t know, señorita. You tell me. It’s your life, your destiny. After all, I know how much izzat means to a woman.”
Respect. Her mother and father had spoken about izzat when they’d told her to pay back Raj. That was another line from the movie.
“Wait, so even if I don’t love Raj, I should still respect that he could be my hero?”
Shah Rukh Khan didn’t say anything else. He pulled the strap of his mandolin over his shoulder, resumed playing the tune from the movie, and faded into the distance, leaving Winnie alone again.
* * *
—
Winnie woke up slowly, letting out a shuddering breath. “This sucks,” she said in the dark. She’d been asleep for only a short period of time before the dream interrupted her rest.
After ten minutes of tossing and turning, she was still wide awake. With a groan, she got up and pulled her copy of Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge off the shelf. It took only another moment of debating before she opened her bedroom door and went downstairs, where the sounds of conversation mixed with Indian soap operas.
“Winnie? I thought you went to sleep,” her mother said.
“I did, but I had a weird dream again.”
“I hope it involved an eligible bachelor,” Nani said.
“Not unless you consider Shah Rukh Khan to be the bachelor.” She held up her copy of the movie she’d dreamed about. “I was going to watch this alone. It’s long, but anyone interested?”
Winnie’s father raised his hand like a student. “Yash Raj Films at its finest.”
“This calls for more…ah, lassi,” Nani said, holding up her steel tumbler.
“You both are going to be tired for work and school tomorrow,” Winnie’s mother said. “It’s already eleven.”
“So?” they replied.
“Okay, then. Just this once and only because I haven’t seen it in a long time, either.”
Winnie grinned and went over to the TV to put in the movie. If she was going to have another sleepless night, she couldn’t think of a better way to stay awake than to watch movies with her family.
16
KUCH KUCH HOTA HAI / SOMETHING HAPPENS
★★★★★
I would like for Bollywood movies to address the true awkwardness that happens right before the party. Realistically, the heroine probably stabs herself in the eye with her mascara wand and her parents make her take a thousand selfies to post in the “India Family” WhatsApp group. The struggle is real, guys.
DEV: Time for another date.
WINNIE: I’m not losing count of our dates here. Don’t be late. <3
“You’re not thinking about him, are you?” Bridget asked from the v-chat screen on her dresser. They weren’t getting ready together because Henry was going to pick up Bridget from her place and Dev was driving Winnie.
“I’m not thinking about who?” Winnie asked as she smoothed a hand over her curls.
“Raj,” Bridget said. “You’re not thinking about him, right? Because you got really quiet really fast when I asked if your parents are finally okay with you and Dev. Now you look annoyed. Looking annoyed will crease your makeup. You hardly ever wear any, so you need to keep that flawless look.”
Winnie chose to ignore the makeup comment. “No, I’m not thinking about Raj. Well, sort of. Today when I saw him while we were setting up the ballroom, he looked so sad. I don’t know why.”
“Maybe it’s because he’s all about getting his way. He wants the girl, the school, the future. I heard a couple days ago that he’s going to the dance with Jenny Dickens even though she was being all crazy and spreading rumors about you guys. I bet you it’s because he’s trying to save face be
cause no one else wants to go out with him now.”
Bridget disappeared offscreen, and Winnie heard rustles of fabric. When she returned to her spot in front of the camera, Winnie gasped at the vision she made. The stunning shimmer of the gown wasn’t nearly as bright as the sparkle in Bridget’s eyes.
“Oh my God, you look so beautiful! I think you look even more stunning now that you’re with Henry. You know, I’m going to keep reminding you that I’m the reason you and Henry are together.” She patted her shoulder. “Good job, self.”
Bridget rested her hands on her hips and leaned in closer to the computer screen. She said in her best British accent, “ ‘Oh! Lizzy, why am I thus singled from my family, and blessed above them all! If I could but see you as happy!’ ”
“Okay, Jane, no Pride and Prejudice quotes allowed tonight. I don’t have a lot of brain space to spare for a witty retort.”
“It’s better than a Say Anything quote.”
“We really need to get you to watch more eighties movies. That’s not even the best one.”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Winnie walked over to her bed and looked down at the lengha that her grandmother had purchased for her. She had been doing stomach crunches for weeks to prepare for the belly-baring top. Hopefully it would look as good, if not better, when she slipped it on.
“By the way, Henry texted and said that the ballroom looks awesome. I’m assuming that’s because you were hovering this morning.”
“Did you really expect me to let the decorating committee do their own thing?” she asked as she slipped into the skirt.
“Are you going to make a lot of money for the festival, or is this all for nothing?”
Winnie put on her top, and then twisted and struggled to pin the chuni to her shoulder as the final part of her outfit. “With ticket sales? We got this in the bag. We have more than enough.”