Ach smiled. He leaned over and cupped her ear. “Love you, Wasa,” he whispered.
Rasa overdosed. She stood up and put her arm around him. She tousled his hair as they walked out the front door and into the day.
“Oh Jaya, isn’t Shah Rukh Khan so handsome?” Jayshree Mehta asked her young daughter.
Jaya didn’t say anything. She was completely taken in by the drama, serenading, and dancing on their new big-screen TV.
“Jaya betta!” Jayshree sung out.
“Yeah,” Jaya said pulling her eyes away from Devdas, the Bollywood film they’d spent the last three hours relishing. She glanced around the living room of their tiny Niu Valley house—a speck of a place on the southeast side of Oahu. All eyes—her mother’s, her father’s, Chander fua’s, and Neela foi’s—were on her.
“SRK is handsome, right, betta?” her mother asked again, twirling the forest green chunni that draped her right shoulder.
Jaya didn’t know how to answer. She examined her mother and Neela foi as they sat on the loveseat across the room, waiting for her response. Her mother looked extra lovely tonight. She was wearing the splendid gold crepe silk salwar kameez that Neela foi had gifted her.
And Neela foi was dressed in an elegant black embroidered cotton salwar kameez. Her arms, neck, and ears were adorned in twenty-four-karat gold jewelry.
Jaya looked down at the pink and green silk salwar kameez she had on. She wasn’t wearing it by choice. Her mother said it would be rude not to since it was also a present from Neela foi. She wished Neela foi had gotten her a burgundy and gold dhoti-kurta like the one SRK wore in the film Paheli.
Jaya sighed.
Neela foi and Chander fua were staying with them for a week. Each night so far, the five of them had watched a different SRK film together. Her mother and Neela foi swooned practically every time SRK was in a scene. Jaya waited for herself to feel the same giddiness. She figured every girl should get it. In fact she even tried to will sighs of adoration at each SRK sighting.
But Jaya had a different take on SRK. It went back to the first film of his that she’d seen—Pardes. She felt connected to him, as if he were the older brother she didn’t have. Only, she wasn’t the younger sister. She was the younger brother.
Jaya stared at the orange shag carpet. She’d wanted to watch the film sprawled out on her back, the way her parents let her when they didn’t have company.
Jayshree searched her daughter’s small face. “Come on, Jaya? What do you think?”
Jaya slipped her left hand under her thigh and crossed her fingers. “Yeah, he’s handsome,” she lied.
Jayshree grinned and nodded, her expression saying, See my daughter has good taste.
Sanjay was sitting next to Jaya. “I better start looking for your SRK now, Jaya. Someone like that will be hard to find.” He chuckled as he elbowed her.
Chander fua threw his head back in laughter. Since he was Sanjay’s older cousin, it was acceptable that he join in on the matchmaking. “I’ll help. I have lots of connections,” he said, raising his eyebrow at Sanjay.
“Yaar,” Sanjay laughed. He pointed to Chander fua with an open palm, then slapped his back.
“Well, Jaya, I hope we find you someone as handsome and kind as your father. My parents did an excellent job arranging our marriage,” Jayshree said, eyeing Sanjay.
Neela foi covered her mouth and giggled. In a syrupy Gujarati accent, she said, “Jaya, you are so beautiful, like your mother. Someday you will get many offers from good-looking men.”
Jaya shifted in place on her end of the sofa.
“A toast,” Sanjay called out, holding up his crystal glass of guava juice.
The adults raised their glasses.
“Jaya?” Sanjay asked. He motioned for her to lift her glass high in the air.
Sanjay switched to Gujarati. “Chander and Neela, it’s been so nice having you visit us. Thank you for letting me run your store all these years. Because of your generosity, I’ve been able to provide Jaya with a better life than I had growing up.” He paused. He grinned at Jaya, then at Jayshree.
Jaya thought about the bedtime stories her father still told her each night. Real-life stories about growing up poor in Gujarat. Stories mixed with happy childhood escapades and difficult times of hunger and backbreaking work. She felt grateful for her life on Oahu. For her loving parents. For her father’s hard work. For her mother’s homemaking expertise.
For all the years in this old house.
Jaya loved everything about it. The single pane walls. The peeling white paint. The dusty louver windows. The small kitchen that let her mother cook the most delicious Gujarati meals. Their time together. Eating. Talking. Watching Bollywood.
Sanjay continued. “And now I’ve made more than enough money to build Jayshree’s dream house in Kahala, buy a brand-new BMW, and pay for Jaya’s entire education at Manoa Preparatory Academy. And last but not least, I’ll break ground on my first luxury condo development. Life is good. Cheers!”
Everyone cheered. Everyone except Jaya. She didn’t want to move away to Kahala.
Sanjay switched back to English. “We will be very rich, Jaya betta.” He stroked her head. “And I will find you a boy even more rich. You will never have to struggle.” He paused and kissed her forehead. Then he whispered, “Yes, yes. A rich, nice, handsome boy for my pretty Jaya.”
Jaya winced.
Pretty and beautiful should be for mum-mee.
Or Paro. Aishwarya Rai played Paro, SRK’s love interest, in Devdas. Whenever the stunning Paro graced the screen, Jaya felt a flutter in her heart. She had to squash a deep urge to sweep Paro off her feet with romantic gestures like the ones she’d seen SRK do.
Would her father ever let her marry a girl like Paro?
It was a calm day in Hau’ula, a rare thing. The flat ocean sparkled a kaleidoscope of blue. The slight breeze kept the temperature mild. Locals flooded the 7-11 to fill their beach bags with snacks and their coolers with ice and beer. The pristine roadside beach would soon be packed with happy people munching and chugging.
Rasa, Ach, and Nitya waited for their mother outside the store. For a long time, it’d only been Rasa and Ach. But then their mother had a little girl, Nitya. And four months ago, after Rasa turned ten, their mother had the baby girl, Shanti.
Ach clutched his stomach with one hand and tugged at Rasa’s shirt with the other. “Where’s Mom?”
