Bollywood Confidential by Sonia Singh

complexion like Nanu’s—instead his skin was the color of toffee—but Heeru kept it glowing and radiant with nightly applications of his mother’s herbal face tonic. The tonic was expensive, and Heeru had to wait until his mother was asleep before sidling into her room and slipping the small bottle off her dresser.
    Basically, Heeru was all set to pursue his dream of a career under the lights when something happened.
    The incident involved the park where Heeru “rehearsed.” He regularly took the bus to a secluded park where he could practice being a film hero. He didn’t even consider practicing at home in his room, not with four prying plum-nosed sisters around. There in the park among the poplar trees he could rehearse in peace.
    Heeru always wore the same outfit on these occasions. In his white slacks, matching jacket, red silk shirt and paisley scarf knotted dashingly around his neck, Heeru knew he cut a fine figure.
    Then, with one arm around the tree trunk—pretending it was the ample waist of a lotus-eyed actress, Heeru would croon the latest melody, crinkling his eyes, moving his brows up and down and flipping the puff in his hair just like the latest heartthrob.
    But then one day a group of young ruffians from the lowest rung of the caste ladder came upon Heeru embracing a tree and burst into loud laughter. They also made lewd gestures and called Heeru names, comparing him to mediocre actors he couldn’t stand.
    Heeru was tempted to yell and remind them of their class, but his legs had a mind of their own, and he turned tail and ran. The youths, sensing some fun in their unemployed, poverty-stricken lives, decided to give chase.
    Heeru ran and ran. He tripped and fell a few times, sobbing like any heroine in a chase scene running to save her virtue. By the time he climbed aboard the bus and dropped into his seat shaking, his favorite slacks were tornand covered with grass stains. He touched his neck and realized his paisley scarf was gone.
    Heeru never rehearsed again.
    For a moment, awash in the old memory, he looked wildly around, but the room was occupied only by pigeons, one of which was currently using his shoe as a toilet.

Chapter 14
    Raveena followed a slender, dark-skinned young woman with a shy smile into the sitting room.
    The young woman was dressed in a cotton housecoat with short sleeves. Her feet were bare. She indicated Raveena should take a seat and then disappeared into another room.
    Raveena sat down on a lumpy white sofa, immediately sinking deep into the cushions. Directly above her were two ceiling fans. It was stuffy and muggy in the room, so she flipped the wall switch and the blades sprang to life on the fastest setting. Her long hair whirled around her face and the stack of newspapers on the coffee table blew across the room. Quickly, she flipped the switch back down, retrieved the newspapers and tried to smooth down her hair.
    The young woman returned with a tall glass of water. “Safe,” she began and her smooth brow furrowed. Then with another shy smile she pointed at the glass and said, “Filtered.” Only, the way she said it made the word sound like “pilltered.”
    Absolutely charmed by her sweet demeanor, Raveena accepted the glass of water. “Thank you.” The water was cold, and she practically downed the entire contents in one gulp.
    The young woman smiled approvingly and disappeared again.
    Raveena proceeded to sit alone in the room for the next twenty minutes.
    Finally, she decided she may as well explore her new surroundings. In one corner of the room was a large wooden altar dominated by a white marble statue of Lord Ganesh, the remover of obstacles, along with small framed paintings of the Goddess Lakshmi and Lord Krishna. There was also a large photograph of a round-faced man with a black Afro dressed in an orange robe. She’d seen that same photograph in other Indian homes. The man was Sathya Sai Baba.