by Nisha Sharma
He nodded. “We were perfect together because we were given the perfect shot.”
“Exactly. We were destined to work. And then when we grew up and started to figure out how cameras function, how life works, and what we really wanted—”
“Then we saw the Vaseline for what it was. A device. Your horoscope was a device. Okay, as allegories go, it’s a good one.”
She nodded. The wind was picking up, and her skin prickled with goose bumps. “I was so angry when we first broke up because of how you did it, because of the way you treated our relationship. I was furious.”
“I know,” he said with a laugh. “You broke into my house and stole your stuff back.”
Winnie grinned, pushing the flyaway strand of hair from her eyes. “It’s true. But I think I was really mad because you weren’t the one. And I knew it for a while and refused to accept it. That we loved each other but as friends, not as something more.”
“Like you want with Dev.”
“Right. Be honest with me: Did you really want me back, or was it something else?”
He looked at her, studying her face, and then shook his head. “I’d never really failed at anything. And truthfully, I may have asked you out after Dev mentioned he liked you all those years ago, but that was because I knew that if you two hit it off, I’d lose my best friend.”
“That would’ve never happened.”
“Really? Because it happened this time after you guys started dating.”
Winnie held out her hand, palm up. “Raj?”
“Yeah?”
“Mujhse dosti karoge?”
He laughed, tossing his head back and rocking with the motion when she asked him to be her friend. Winnie giggled as well, and for some odd reason she felt like she’d cut a string, something that was holding her back.
He gripped her palm and squeezed. “Only you can ask me to be your friend by quoting one of the worst movies ever made.”
“What? That is a love-triangle masterpiece.”
“Don’t you think we did better?” he said with a wink.
Winnie smiled. “Yeah, probably.”
“I never should’ve doubted you. You are going to make a great movie critic one day, Winnie.”
“And you are going to make a great engineer.”
She let go of Raj and shifted so she could open the box. “I have some stuff for you.” The first thing she produced was a check in the amount of all the stuff she took. “Sorry for breaking in and taking all my stuff back,” she said. “Izzat restored. My parents are all about the family honor stuff.”
He took the check, looked at it, and then tore it in half. “It was your stuff anyway,” he said.
She smiled. “You sure?”
“Yeah. What else is in there?”
She handed over a framed picture of them at a Shah Rukh Khan concert from sophomore year, a hoodie that had lost its smell and comfort years ago, a watch, and then, finally, a jewelry box. Inside was the silver bracelet.
“This is for someone meant to be your jeevansathi. Your soul mate. Thanks for letting me borrow it.”
He sighed but took the bracelet. “Maybe I can sell it on eBay or something. Do you know how expensive this was?”
As if the storm was waiting for Raj to say the magic word, the skies opened up and started showering on their moment.
“Really?” Winnie said, slicking her hair back. “We were having a positive moment,” she yelled. “Everyone knows it only rains when it’s a sad scene.”
“So not true,” Raj said, putting everything back in the box. He hopped off the wall and reached for her to help her down. “Remember Namak Halaal? Amitabh Bachchan was practically having sex in the rain with Smita Patil. The first Dhoom movie and Jab We Met also had awesome rain scenes.”
“Let’s not forget—”
“Dil To Pagal Hai,” they said in unison.
Winnie grinned and squeezed Raj’s hands. “Don’t resent Dev. He doesn’t deserve to be expelled because of you and me.”
Raj hung his head. “I know. I should’ve told Reece about Jenny’s craziness before the dance.”
“Yeah, and you should’ve stayed away from her.”
“I was an idiot.”
“But you’re going to fix it now, right?” Winnie said as they walked arm in arm through the rain toward the house.
“Fine.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you know she’d never heard of Debbie Reynolds?”
Winnie gasped. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Not at all. Then I made her watch Singin’ in the Rain and she thought it was boring. She thought someone like Adam Sandler could do what Gene Kelly accomplished with his comedic timing.”
“Stop. You’re causing palpitations,” she said, even as a glow warmed her heart.
22
RANG DE BASANTI / COLOR IT SAFFRON
★★★★★
Aamir Khan, get out of here. It takes longer than one musical number and thirty seconds to put together a big production. Elbow grease, Aamir. It takes elbow grease, sleepless nights, and Mom’s cooking to really make things right.
Planning the Mehta “flash” film festival took every spare moment of the one week she allowed herself. She was able to get the permission of twelve of her favorite filmmakers who’d submitted to the student festival, and she slipped Dev’s movie out of the school database as well since his name hadn’t been cleared yet.
The Friday evening before the event, her family and friends joined in the chaos as they set up the Rose Theater. Folding tables bracketed the lobby and were covered with stacks of pamphlets she’d printed at the local copy store. Henry had helped her with the schedule and flyers about the filmmakers and their shorts, but those hadn’t arrived yet.
Winnie’s father was setting up chairs for the panelists on the stage in the two movie halls they were using for the event. The setup would be simple, and it would be easy to break down once they were done.
Thankfully, organizing the panelists had been easy, too. Half the filmmakers who had their movies selected agreed to come. The other panelists were Princeton University and Rutgers Film School professors invited by Mr. Reece. He’d been surprisingly supportive about tapping into his contacts. He even said that he was bringing a surprise guest of honor, but he wouldn’t tell her who the guest would be.
“Place is coming together, Winnie,” Henry said as he carried two microphones with dangling cords to the second movie hall.
“Thanks,” she said as she helped him work the wires. “I never thought it would happen this fast. It takes forever to do the student film festival every year. I feel like we’ve been doing it wrong this whole time.”
“Maybe it’s because you don’t have to follow so many rules.”
Winnie laughed. “Amen to that.”
“I wonder who from school is going to show up?”
“Me too.”
She only really cared about two people. Winnie texted both Bridget and Dev to ask them to show up on Saturday night. Neither responded, even though the news of her departure from the school festival should’ve reached them by now. Just as she and Henry finished in the second movie hall, loud banging sounds filtered through from the lobby as Winnie’s mother and grandmother arrived with large boxes.
“What are you guys doing? What are these things?” When she got closer to help, she could smell the Indian food. “No,” she said. “Absolutely not. Mom!”
Her mother brushed her aside, and said, “People have to eat, no? We’re putting this in Eric’s fridge for tomorrow.”
“Mom, the whole deal is that they buy the food here so the theater can make money. You can’t bring food without checking with me!”
Her mom set the box down on the nearest concession-stand counter. Nani did the same with the box she carried, and when Winnie pulled the cardboard flaps back, she found at least a hundred samosas. The triangle-shaped fried pockets of potatoes and peas were still warm, which meant th
at her mother and Nani had spent most of the day making them. Large jars containing homemade mint and date chutneys were squeezed along the side. In the second box, a towering mound of fried dough balls soaked in syrup produced a smell that even had Winnie’s mouth watering. Gulab jamun. The devil’s dessert. So sinful and amazing that it shouldn’t exist. She covered the box again and stepped back.
“Nope, no way. Thank you for all the work, but this isn’t helpful to Eric’s business. He’s not only closed for the night to let us set up, but he’s giving us the venue for free. We want to make sure that he’ll make money through concessions.”
Winnie’s mom motioned to the boxes. “Don’t worry—we spoke to him. He wanted some extra food for the cocktail party after your festival. These are half of the batch we made.”
The sound of running footsteps echoed until Henry, Jessica, and Jai burst into the lobby. Henry had the most crazed look in his eyes.
“I smell samosas,” he said.
Winnie’s mother beamed as she started pulling the food from boxes. “Are you hungry? We have extra. Winnie, go get plates from the car. I have napkins and spoons, too. Let’s feed all these growing children.”
Winnie was quickly shoved aside as everyone crowded over the boxes. With a sigh, she admitted defeat and left to get the plates and cutlery from the car.
Winnie stepped up to the curb in front of the theater, pressed the unlock button, and heard the familiar beep. She found her parents’ sedan parked straight ahead on the same side of the street. She was a few feet away when she spotted the Beetle parked in front of it. A slender blonde got out from behind the wheel.
“Hi,” she said when Winnie reached her side.
“Hi.”
Her best friend looked sad. Bridget had her hair tied up in a high ponytail, and her face was void of any makeup. Behind her lime-green glasses, her eyes were puffy.
“I broke the BFFL code,” she said.
“You did.”
“Twice.”
Winnie rolled her eyes. “Yup.”
A car honked at another driver as it roared down Nassau Street.
“I was thinking of you, though,” Bridget said when the sound faded.
“You should’ve told me, Bridget.”
“I know. I’ve been keeping up with Henry. He told me he was helping you, and at first I was mad, but when he explained what was going on, well…I wanted to talk to you. Winnie, I’m so sorry I kept it from you, but it wasn’t my secret. It was Dev’s to tell. I figured if he didn’t say something by your birthday, then I’d spill my guts.”
Winnie dug her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “We are supposed to have each other’s backs. How would you feel if I kept a secret about Henry? I feel like I can’t trust you to talk to me about things after this.”
“But you can!”
Winnie nodded. “I get that you were trying to help me, but I can screw things up and then fix them on my own.”
“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, you can.”
“Hey!”
Bridget propped her fists on her hips. “You’re supposed to stand by Dev, Winnie. He made a mistake. So what? I make them, and you do, too.”
“I do, but you can’t interfere by keeping things to yourself because you think I’ll screw things up. That’s not fair to either of us.”
“Fine, but—”
“Bridget. Please. Don’t interfere.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. Really. Even if it’s the worst news ever, I’ll tell you.”
“Ditto. And in case Henry didn’t tell you, I dropped out of the school festival. You were right, too. Dev is more important to me, more real to me, and I can help him without being festival chair with Raj. I don’t want to be a festival chair if the lineup doesn’t include Dev, anyway.”
“I’m glad. You’re still my BFFL?”
“I’ll always be your best freaking friend for life,” Winnie said with a laugh.
Bridget started crying, and as Winnie hugged her, the tightness in her chest eased.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you, too,” Bridget whispered back.
They held each other, supporting one another like they had for years. When a truck drove by kicking up smoke, they pulled apart, coughing and laughing at the same time.
“So I heard you made this big long boring speech to Reece about your plan,” Bridget said, wiping an eye. “I wish I was there to see it.”
“It’s okay,” Winnie said, lifting the collar of her shirt to wipe her face. “It was sort of anticlimactic. No one slapped anyone. There wasn’t any strange music. Pretty lame, actually. Best of all, Reece offered to help.”
“Wow, that does sound anticlimactic. Glad I skipped the showing.”
Winnie laughed. “Love you more than Shah Rukh Khan, Bridge.”
“Love you more than Colin Firth. Did you drive your mom’s car here? You’re setting up for the new and improved Winnie festival, right?”
Winnie grinned and took the plastic bag of plates and cutlery from the backseat of her parents’ car. “I am. And my parents and grandmother are actually here to help. Tomorrow we’re going to start with a feature from a faculty member, and then Dev’s movie.”
“Dev’s? Does he know?”
“Well, I’m hoping he’ll show up to see it. He hasn’t answered any of my texts yet. He’ll be the second in the lineup, which is probably the best spot since the Princeton and Rutgers faculty will still be around.”
Bridget rubbed her palms together. “This sounds awesome. Amazing. Okay, is there anything I can do?”
Winnie draped an arm around her best friend’s shoulder and squeezed. “There is one thing you can do. As you know, my blog isn’t exactly the most widely read news source in central Jersey. I got a huge bump at the fund-raiser dance, thanks to your help, but that wasn’t enough.”
Bridget snorted. “Yeah, that’s putting it lightly. You need to get the word out faster?”
Winnie nodded. “And to more people. I want to make sure that we have a crowd for tomorrow and Sunday. I know we have students from school, and we have some adults showing up, but it’s a flash festival, so there’s not a lot of time to prepare. You think you can help with the marketing and fill the seats?”
“I’m on it,” she said. “I first need the username and password for your blog.”
“Why?”
“You want people to show up? You have to hashtag the right things. The right things are usually ‘Ranveer Singh,’ ‘Aditya Chopra,’ and ‘shirtless.’ ”
“Ah, the finest of Bollywood actors. Is that going to be enough?”
“Eh. I’ll add Katrina Kaif to the mix.”
“What about people who don’t like Bollywood?”
“We’re in central Jersey. Do people like that exist?”
“Truth. But to be safe, I’ll have Henry post something on the school’s website, too.”
“Good idea.”
They walked together into the Rose.
23
KAPOOR AND SONS
★★★★★
Sometimes the hero doesn’t get exactly what he or she wants, and ends up with something that has the potential of being better. I used to hate plot devices like this. Now? Not so much. Just because goals change doesn’t mean I do, right? #RanveerSingh #AdityaChopra #KatrinaKaif
WINNIE: Hey, I know you’re mad, but Raj is going to clear your name today. I dropped out of the festival, too. Also, you hurt me when you lied. If we’re going to try to make this work, you can’t lie. That’s not cool.
WINNIE: That is if you want it to still work?
WINNIE: I hope you come tomorrow. Make sure you’re there by 6:15PM if you can. I have a ticket waiting for you at the front table.
WINNIE: Miss you. I wish there was an emoji for that.
DEV:
Winnie was in shock from the moment people first started walking in the door, and she had to work at containing her surprise. Bridget’s social-media st
rategy had actually been effective. She saw a few familiar faces and a lot of new ones. They bought food from the concession stand, stood in front of the film posters to read the summaries, and checked the filmmaker bios on the info table. The banner in the entrance read:
THE MEHTA WEEKEND FLASH FILM FESTIVAL
A Precursor to the Princeton Academy Student Film Festival
Celebrating Short Films in Princeton, New Jersey
“Here you go, beta,” her father said as he handed her a cup of soda. He settled in next to her and surveyed the incoming crowd. “How is everything?”
She looked up at her father and smiled. “You look good in your suit, Daddy.”
“Your mother thought so, too, when I was doing my MBA.”
Winnie looped her arm through his. “I’m sure she thinks the same thing now.” They scanned the crowd until they found her and Nani leading people into the first movie hall. Bridget was at the front door, checking in the filmmakers, and the AV guys were making sure that the movies were ready to go. Henry was going to play the shorts from the projection room and address schedule mishaps through the night. Eric, along with Winnie’s father, was going to troubleshoot.
“Thank you, Daddy,” Winnie said as she wrapped an arm around her father’s waist. “Thanks for believing in me and doing this with me.”
He patted her curled hair. “I take some of the blame for your love of movies, so I can shoulder some of the work as well. You’ve done good, beta.”
Her smile wavered. “I know I’ve been…uh, difficult for a few months.”
“No, just lost. You’re okay now.”
She squeezed his arm. “If you had a chance to do it all over again, would you have gone to America? Would you have tried to study film even though Dada and Dadi told you that you had to be in finance?”
He shook his head. “I would’ve done everything exactly the same,” he said. “I knew that one day I was going to have a daughter who would do all this so much better than I ever could.”