My So-Called Bollywood Life(38)

“Then why?”

“People love the movies because of the romance, the emotion, and the passion the characters feel. It’s easy to get swept up in the magic as long as you have a flexible suspension of disbelief.”

Dev leaned into her arm, and she felt a tingle at the base of her spine from the contact. “That’s for sure,” he said.

“For me, Pandit Ohmi’s prediction means that I’ll have that romance with someone, have that kind of love and passion. But it’s predetermined. Like Bollywood movies. My life is set for me. I’m the heroine and this one particular guy is the hero and I have no choice. When Raj first asked me out, I said yes, because I felt like I was making a conscious decision to accept the prophecy. At least that’s what I told myself.”

    “So it was a way to take control of your destiny,” Dev said. “And if you stayed with him and you didn’t act in your best interest, it would be giving in to your destiny.”

“And now I know that if I consciously choose to be with someone because of their name, because of a piece of jewelry that they give me, I’m letting destiny control me, and I can’t have that. As much as I want my prophecy to be true, I want it to be true because I made it happen.”

“Free will. Okay, that makes sense to me.”

Dev wrapped an arm around her shoulder and filled her space like he’d been filling her thoughts.

“When I was fourteen, my dad left us,” he said. “He’d been cheating on my mom with a coworker, and one day he came home and said that she was pregnant and he didn’t want me or my mom anymore. He left everything in the house to us but cleaned out the bank accounts, and then he married this other woman.”

The confession was so unexpected that Winnie didn’t know how to respond. If one of Winnie’s American friends at school had told her the same story, she would have been sympathetic for sure. Dev was an Indian American, though, and because of some archaic cultural traditions, divorce could be considered worse than death. There was a good chance that some people had been cruel. The blunt truth of his life felt like a slap.

    “Oh my God, Dev.”

“Yeah,” he said. “And my parents had what the priest called a ‘perfect match.’ Their star charts matched over twenty-five points, which is supposed to be excellent. They let others tell them what to do, and it ruined my mother’s life. She should’ve trusted her instincts.”

“Dev, I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.”

Dev reached over to cover her hand with his. “Say that you understand. That you realize predictions about destiny, astrology readings, whatever, can be incredibly misleading. However, if they match what you want for yourself, you won’t avoid someone just because destiny and free will are the same. Screw pandits and star charts and prophecies. Sometimes you have to trust yourself and let destiny follow.”

“Easy for you to say,” she mumbled. “My problem is, how can I know for sure if my prophecy is what I want since it’s been crammed down my throat since birth? My mother even mentioned it at the pooja just now.”

“Have you tried to go with your gut?”

She looked up at him. “If I had, then maybe you and I would’ve dated freshman year.”

He smiled and pulled her closer. He tilted her head back and then rested his lips against hers. As kisses went, it was pillow soft and cotton-candy sweet. She closed her eyes and leaned into him.

    “Go out with me again,” he said when they came up for air.

She dropped her head to his shoulder. It felt right, so she said the only thing her filmi soul wanted her to say.

“Okay.”





13





AISHA





Regardless of whether a film is a Hollywood or Bollywood production, a shopping montage must always result in the perfect outfit.





852-4655: Why cant u leve Raj ALONE?? Isnt Dev enuf?

WINNIE: I want nothing to do with Raj romantically. We just work together so STOP TEXTING ME.

852-4655: STOP TALKING TO RAJ.

WINNIE: Get over it. I’m blocking you.



Winnie surveyed the chaos around her. A laptop sat on the dark wood coffee table next to a cup of iced chai latte, her cell phone, and a stack of textbooks and notebooks. Pulled up on the computer screen was the final draft of her essay for her application. A v-chat box was open in the right corner. Bridget’s face filled the small window, her long hair piled on top of her head in a messy knot. Instead of her usual contacts, she wore large hot-pink frames that dwarfed her face.

    “I’m exhausted,” Winnie said. Her words were muffled by the royal blue decorative pillows edged with silver mirror embroidery.

“You asked for it,” Bridget replied. “Your application is finally finished, though!”

“Yeah, but I’m not submitting it until I know for sure about this film festival.”

“Right. All the entries are coming in, apparently. Raj asked you to review them, right? It looks like some good stuff, too.”

“I hope so, since we have a guest judge who is also teaching the master class.”

“You’re about to take on all of the work for the festival, aren’t you? Raj has been waiting for this moment. I bet you even have the fund-raiser dance on your plate.”