My So-Called Bollywood Life(13)

“I’m never wrong. And if you don’t think about getting into NYU first, you’re going to lose what you’ve worked so hard for, before you even have a chance at it.”

“Focusing on your future means focusing on your match, too,” her mother added. “It was practically handed to you on a silver thaali.” She gestured like she was holding a platter up for Winnie. “Not all of us have the luxury of pursuing career and marriage equally.”

    Talk about added pressure. Her dad had given up film school to marry her mom because of the prophecy. A part of her wanted to get into film school for him as well. He never said anything about it, but if she could show him that she’d succeeded for both of them, maybe he’d feel as if he was getting his dream, too. Winnie remembered Pandit Ohmi’s words and his assurance that her father would be proud of her regardless, but she still wasn’t sure that was enough.

“This is the year we work on your college application,” her father said.

“Yeah, early decision is coming up for NYU. If I get in, I can apply for the Yash Chopra Fellowship, the only one that deals with South Asian film theory. The first step is getting into college, though. I talked to Pandit Ohmi and—”

“You talked to Pandit Ohmi? When did this happen?” her mother said, her voice rising.

“A couple of days ago. Nani gave me his number.”

“Winnie!”

“What?” Winnie shrugged. “I had to tell him to stop talking to you about my Bollywood romance janampatri because now that Raj dumped me, it’s not going to happen.”

“Winnie!” her parents said in unison.

“I didn’t say it like that. I get that he’s a pandit and all,” she said, then paused to chew the last piece of roti. “Anyway, he had to know. Instead of agreeing, he told me that I was going to have these pitfalls in the next few months.”

    Her parents shared another look.

“She sounds like your mother,” her father said.

“Our daughter is so filmi because you’re the one who made her sit and watch all those old Amitabh Bachchan and Shah Rukh Khan movies every weekend. That’s the only reason she’s a drama queen—total nakhrewali. Speaking of my mother, she’s coming next week to stay for a while.”

“Nani is coming to stay?” Winnie asked with a squeal. Her grandmother was completely squealworthy.

“Hai Ram,” her father said with a groan. “That means not only do I have to restock the Johnnie Walker, but we have to deal with our nakhrewali daughter before your mother decides to defend her.” He spooned more vegetables onto his plate before giving Winnie a knowing look.

“What?”

“Your mother and I understand the significance of Pandit Ohmi’s natal star-chart readings more than anyone. We lived it and had to face hard choices as well. But stealing, Winnie? It doesn’t serve a point you’re trying to make if you end up jeopardizing your future. You’ve never acted like this before, so we’re not going to send you to boarding school like your mother wants. But you will give Raj his movies back.”

“Uh, there may be a problem with that….”

“What kind of a problem?”

    “I may have buried them.”

“May have buried them? As in in the ground?”

“Yes. In the ground. I could dig them up, but since it rained last night, I don’t know how good they’d be. I also have to find them because I don’t remember the exact location….Daddy, it was the principle of the matter!”

Her father hung his head and said with a long-suffering sigh, “Then you’ll repay Raj, giving him the money value of the property you took.”

“Dad—”

“You and I both know what our movie collections mean to us. If Raj’s held the same importance to him, and I’m sure it did if you gave it to him, then it’s only right you pay him so he can rebuild his library. Your mother is right. It is about izzat.”

“I used up all my money for film camp,” Winnie said.

Her father grunted in acknowledgment.

“So, what, you want me to get a job even though you know I’m doing AP classes, college applications, the film club, and the film festival?”

“Yes.”

“What about my review blog? That takes a lot of time.”

Her dad looked at her blandly. “Your review site that no one reads?”

“Um, so not true.”

“Your site talks only about the musicals. That’s why no one reads it. You’re not considering the new trends.”

“Hey, just because I don’t like new Bollywood with all its kissing and lack of song-and-dance numbers doesn’t mean my blog is outdated. Song-and-dance numbers are the pillars of the industry.”

    “Okay, enough, you two,” her mother said. “Winnie, we can always have a pooja to pray for you to find your destined husband.”

“No!” Winnie shouted. “Please do not invite your friends here to pray for me. That makes me look so pathetic.” The thought of a prayer service with a gaggle of “aunties”—the women who hung out with her mother—all asking the gods to give her what she needed to find a man was nauseating.