My So-Called Bollywood Life(36)
“Dress-up montage!” they yelled.
For the next half hour, Winnie and Bridget tried on most of the clothes in Winnie’s closet. Finally Bridget settled on a bright lemon-and-pink salwar kameez, while Winnie chose an outfit her grandmother bought her last Diwali.
“Wow, are you going to add bling to that?” Bridget asked when Winnie pressed the hanger to her collarbone to check the length.
“Probably some jhumkas. Why, does it need more?” The tunic had a square neckline and fit her to mid-thigh. The balloon pants were pleated in the front and cinched at her ankles. The entire outfit was royal blue with a continuous gold embroidered border, and it came with a sheer lime-green chuni that draped over her shoulder.
Bridget’s arm snaked around her waist and squeezed. “No. You’re going to look gorg. I’m wondering what Dev will say when he sees you all traditional. After the game, and the way you guys have been staring at each other all week, everyone knows that you’re together.”
“On Wednesday night, Dev spent his break in the projection room with me. I worked on splicing and we just talked about, I don’t know, everything. It was really, really nice.”
“And even with college applications, school, your blog, and film club, you’re looking happy again, Winnie. That’s awesome.”
Winnie blushed. “Well, today is going to be challenging and not so happy. I’ll be running around with my mom, so if Dev says something to you, let me know.” She slipped tiny gold drop earrings into her earlobes, pushed bracelets onto her wrists, french-braided her hair, and tied it with a matching lime-green tie that had gold beadwork along the edges. She curled tiny strands of hair at her temple to frame her face and helped Bridget do the same.
They stood together in front of the closet’s full-length mirror.
“I think you should selfie, Bridge. For Henry.”
“He’s been texting me. He says he’s coming over tomorrow to watch the six-hour Pride and Prejudice so I can educate him on BBC miniseries.”
Winnie gripped her shoulders. “I want to hear about everything after he leaves.”
“Of course. That goes without saying.”
They opened the bedroom door when they heard the first ring of the doorbell. After that, the rest of the afternoon was a blur. Winnie said hello to all the aunties, uncles, and kids at the front door. She helped serve water, welcomed the priest, who sat next to the makeshift altar, and then when they had to get started, she settled next to her mom, Nani, and dad at the front. Winnie knew that Bridget would take care of Dev when he showed up.
Poojas were such a pain for her…literally. Her foot would fall asleep because she had to sit cross-legged the whole time, and then when she tried to shake her limbs awake, her mother usually shot her a look that could immobilize a crowd in the middle of a Holi celebration at a hundred yards.
This pooja was going to be particularly agonizing because it was for her. To her family’s credit, they’d let all the guests think it was a Durga pooja for Navratri, the nine-night festival that started the following week, but Winnie’s mom had made it clear to her that they were praying for her since she was blatantly disregarding her horoscope and Raj.
Out of the corner of her eye, Winnie saw a flash of black. Dev was in jeans and a button-down shirt, leading a woman to a spot in the corner of the room. The older woman had streaks of white hair at her temples, but her wide, moon-shaped face was bright, young, and cheerful. She wore a pale lavender salwar kameez with a chuni draped over her head. It was a distinctly Punjabi style, much like what Winnie’s own mother wore.
Dev’s mom, Winnie thought, as the pandit started a series of really long prayers. Winnie had insisted they be invited. She looked over at them one last time and tried to pray her heart out.
Like some of her Hindu friends, she didn’t really know the exact words, but she’d developed the ability to move her lips in the rhythm of the prayers so it seemed as if she was saying the right verse even when she had no idea what was actually going on. In the movies, whenever there was a pooja scene, the director would focus in on one of the gods and then on the hero or heroine, who would recite an internal monologue about what he or she wished to accomplish. Winnie closed her eyes and tried to be as sincere as possible as she started her internal monologue.
Hey, Durga Ma, I know this pooja is to thank you for being awesome, and I know that my mom is doing this for me. Even though they’re totally weird, please bless my mom and dad for all that they do. Second, thanks for keeping me in the game with this film-festival thing, but can I ask for one teensy thing? I really want Pandit Ohmi’s prediction for my big Bollywood romance to go away. I like Dev, and this prophecy is hanging over my head like a swinging ax. I’ve made up my mind. So if you could help me there, that would be great. Thanks.
Winnie wrapped up her prayer and put on her best pretend face as her family finished up the pooja. She said “swaha” when she was supposed to and threw raw rice into the fire. When her mother and grandmother told her to help pass out the prasad, Winnie tried to maintain her poise, even though she knew Dev was watching her the whole time. The guests were chatting with each other, but there was an odd lull of silence just as her mother said to the priest, “Although we are praying to Durga for Navratri, I want to ask especially for my daughter to find the love that she has been promised in her janampatri. A love that will shower her with more than a silver bracelet.”