My So-Called Bollywood Life(37)

The room went silent, and Winnie froze, empty tray in hand, as everyone stared at her. She heard snickers and coughs from behind her and knew that the whole room had heard what her mother said. Horoscopes might have been all the rage in Hinduism, but actually admitting to believing in them was embarrassing.

    “I need more of this,” her grandmother said in Hindi from her spot on the floor. She chugged what looked like water from a bottle. Winnie scanned the room to see that everyone was still staring.

Seriously, Durga Ma? Not. Cool. She continued serving food as if nothing had happened, but she really wanted the pooja to be over already.



* * *



—

Right after she finished handing out the prasad, Winnie headed upstairs. She was going into hiding, and she didn’t care if that insulted her family or her parents’ guests. There was a small space between her bed and the wall, the perfect spot for curling into the fetal position, and that was where she intended to stay until she had to drag her butt to school on Monday. Did her mother really have to open her mouth in front of the Indian kids that went to her school? Did she have to talk in front of Dev?

Bridget followed her to her room and tried to coax Winnie back, but Winnie refused. When Bridget mentioned Dev, Winnie felt a twinge of guilt for sure, but she still couldn’t face him.

A little after Bridget returned downstairs, Winnie heard her bedroom door squeak open, and she hunched her shoulders, hoping that no one would see her.

    “Hey,” Dev said.

Winnie popped up from her hiding spot. “What are you doing up here? You can’t be in my room.”

He rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him. “What, because your virtue will be ruined and your family’s name will be tarnished if we’re alone together? Come on, it’s the twenty-first century, Winnie. Besides, both of us are used to people talking about us, right?”

It was her turn to roll her eyes. “Not like this. My mother makes me sound so desperate. Ugh, I hate it. Everyone is whispering about how sorry my situation is.”

If she hadn’t been watching him, she would’ve missed his jaw clenching and his eyes going cold at her words. “I’m used to people talking about me exactly like this,” he said.

Then he glanced at the far wall and did a double take. “Holy shit.” He was across the room, reaching for her movies, before she could straighten her chuni.

“This is unreal,” he said as he scanned the titles from top to bottom. His voice was low, almost reverential, looking at the size of her collection. “Is this all yours? This is so sick. You have the largest Bollywood collection I’ve ever seen!”

Winnie was grateful for the distraction as she checked out the room to make sure she didn’t have anything embarrassing lying around.

“They’re my pride and joy,” she said after tucking a discarded bra under her blanket.

He stopped reading the spines when she reached his side. “Indian clothes look good on you,” he said, brushing the edge of her sleeve.

    Winnie felt that weird flutter in her stomach. “Thanks. And thanks for coming. I know it’s all a little awkward.”

He grinned. “My mom doesn’t get out as much as she used to, and it was cool to see her excited to get dressed up and all.” His fingers skimmed over the titles and landed on a copy of the movie Dil To Pagal Hai. He murmured “aha” before pulling the movie off the shelf and holding it up against his chest.

She looked at the cover, and an image of it lying in the dirt flashed in her mind: she’d buried it with Raj’s collection. “It’s stupid. Can we not talk about it?” She went over to the small bench at the end of her bed to sit down.

Dev tossed the DVD back and forth a couple times before sliding it onto the shelf. “I mean, why wouldn’t it be? This dude falls in love with this dancer. She wears a silver bracelet. However, she’s supposed to marry someone else. Love triangle ensues.”

Dev sat down next to her on the bench, elbows braced on his knees, fingers interlinked.

“That’s why you wore the silver bracelet all the time. That was the bracelet Raj gave you,” he said. “Winnie, I hate to sound like a broken record, but you have to admit he does seem to meet all of your prophecy requirements. You may not believe in destiny, but that silver bracelet is hard to argue with.”

    She shook her head. “It’s not hard at all.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Raj and I grew up together, remember? Our parents talked about it all the time. It was expected that he would buy me the bracelet at some point. He finally gave it to me when we started fighting last year. It was probably a way to try to keep the link between us when we both knew it was falling apart.”

“But despite the bracelet, the history, his name, you still asked for a break, because he didn’t understand what you wanted to do with your future.”

“Pretty much. Do you know why people love Bollywood movies so much? In general, I mean.”

“Not for their contribution to the cinematic art, for sure.”

She smiled. “There are some amazing movies that defy the Bollywood stereotype, but for the most part, the acting has been criticized as overdramatic, the plotlines sometimes don’t make sense, and there are song-and-dance numbers that have no connection to the story setting.”