Posted:
I know, I know! I deserve to be yelled at. Despite being on vacation, I still couldn't make my updates any faster. But in my defense, I really did try to work on this chapter a long time ago. Somehow things just didn't click then, so I had to put it off for a while.
Once again I had to split what was supposed to be one chapter into two, so...only two couples are featured here, Rehaan-Samira and Karan-Deepali. You'll have to wait until the next one for some VERY cute Adi-Neelam and Zaid-Hina scenes. There are some interesting conversations in this one though (at least I think so)...Hope you all enjoy it!
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Recap
Hina and Todd Mitchell have a staring showdown, but contrary to everyone's expectations, Todd walks away without saying anything. On the way to Carissa's hopsital room, Deepali spills some ice cold water on Karan, which causes their conflict to be re-ignited. Carissa tells them that she will be spending the rest of the semester at home recovering. Zaid organizes a birthday party for Samira at the dorms. Aditya tells Neelam he will help her get over her stage fright, and they decide to meet before each presentation. Hina asks Samira to sing for them, which she does, impressing Rehaan immensely.
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Chapter 7: In the Face of Injustice
It's a wonder how situations can take 180 degree turns within a matter of seconds. When Hina had left her dorm room that morning to pay a visit to the prosecutor managing Carissa's case, she had expected the meeting to be short and uneventful. It had been neither. In fact, as she parked her black BMW in her dorm building's parking garage and returned to her room that afternoon, Hina was concerned. For the first time since she had volunteered herself as the sole eye witness in Carissa's case, she was not confident as to what the verdict would be. It had only taken a few sentences uttered by the prosecutor to bring up this doubt in her mind, and they had spent another two hours discussing the point he had raised, willing there to be a way around it. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be one.
Sprawled on her back across her emerald green silk comforter, Hina wondered what to do next. She wanted to talk to someone else, to see if a third viewpoint might bring some clarity. Zaid was the first person who came to mind, but Hina realized that only the whole truth would help him understand the extent of her dilemma. And she couldn't afford to be entirely candid with him. Hina knew that there was actually only one person who she could speak to openly about the case, but there was a drawback to that as well. The only reason that Neelam was no longer trembling and blanching at every mention of Todd Mitchell's name was because she was fairly certain that he would soon be behind bars. This new development would undoubtedly alarm her tremendously.
After a few minutes of indecision, Hina ultimately decided that it would be best for Neelam to hear it from her. Taking her cell phone out of her purse, she placed the call. Neelam answered almost immediately.
"Hi Hina," she greeted her.
"Hey Neelam," Hina responded. "You're not in class, are you?"
"No, I just got back home about an hour ago."
"Good. I wanted to talk to you about a new development in Carissa's case." There was resolve in Hina's every word. She preferred to get straight down to business rather than beat around the bush.
"Is everything okay?" Neelam's voice was already notably fainter.
Hina took a deep breath. "Our case might not be as strong as it seemed. Mitchell came up with a convincing story. Suddenly all evidence against him appears to be circumstantial at best."
"Circumstantial? But what about your testimony? That's not circumstantial."
"Actually, that's where the real problem lies. If it were just a matter of a false alibi, I might be able to convince the jury otherwise. But Mitchell took it a step further. He's calling the accuracy of my testimony into question."
Neelam was shocked. "What?! How can he do that?"
"A phone call I made to him five months ago is coming back to haunt me now." Hina paused for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. "I told you how he was stalking me last semester," she continued. "Well, I had thought that if I talked to him privately, I could convince him to stop. I wanted to be discreet, so one day back in April, I called him. He didn't answer, so I left a message. I'm not sure why I was so upset...I guess I was just really aggravated with his behavior. Anyway, the message I left ended up being much harsher than I had intended. I think I might have used some words that I don't normally use. And in the end, I told him that if he didn't leave me alone, I'd find a way to get back at him."
"Wow," Neelam responded softly.
"I know. I should never have said it. It didn't work anyway. He continued stalking me until I informed campus security."
Neelam made the connection that Hina was leading toward. "He still has that voicemail?"
"That's right. And with it, he might be able to convince the jury that I'm using Carissa's accident as an opportunity to settle past scores...that just because his truck happened to be the same color as the truck that hit Carissa, I'm trying to falsely implicate him."
Neelam could hardly believe what she was hearing. Suddenly, the idea of sending Hina in her place as the eye witness seemed incredibly unwise. Neelam wished she had taken on the responsibility herself. No matter how nervous she might be on the witness stand, at least Mitchell would have no means to undermine the validity of her testimony. "So what do we do now?" she asked Hina, hoping she had already come up with a Plan B.
"Well, Mitchell doesn't actually want to battle it out. He's willing to settle out of court by paying a portion of Carissa's hospital bills."
"Why would he do that if he were innocent?"
"Another part of the story I haven't told you yet," Hina replied. "Mitchell says that a group of his friends borrowed his truck for the night, went out and got drunk. So he wouldn't be entirely surprised if it were one of them who hit Carissa. He claims that he feels some sense of responsibility since the vehicle responsible for the injuries might have been his. I say BS to that, but Carissa's parents might fall for it. I'm sure they'd prefer-"
Before Hina could finish her sentence, there was a knock at the door of her dorm room.
"I'm sorry Neelam. There's someone at my door. I'll come over to your place a little early this evening before our group meeting, and we can talk then. There a few details I still have to give you."
"Okay. I'll see you then."
As Hina ended the call and headed over to answer the door, she hoped that Neelam wouldn't spend the next four hours panicking.
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Strolling by his favorite campus cafe, Zaid noticed Deepali seated alone at one of the tables outside, engrossed in a thick paperback book. He silently walked up to her table.
"Hi Deepali," he said, leaning in to check her book's title.
Deepali jumped at the sound of his voice and glanced up, clearly startled. "Oh Zaid, it's you. Tumne to mujhe dara hi diya."
Zaid laughed. "That must be one engaging novel. Can I sit here? Main tumhein disturb nahin karoonga. You can keep reading."
"Of course," she said, gesturing toward the chair opposite hers. "I was just trying to kill time anyway. I can read this later." Saving her place with a bookmark, she closed the book and set it on the table.
"Murder on the Orient Express," Zaid read the title aloud. "Sounds creepy."
"Oh it is!" Deepali answered, her eyes lighting up. "It's the perfect detective story that gets more and more complex with every chapter. I can usually predict the end of mystery novels, but I'm not so sure about this one. Every time I think I know who the culprit is, something new comes up and I have to rethink everything. It's totally awesome!"
She noticed Zaid smiling at her, amused at her enthusiasm. "Sorry," she added sheepishly. "I get excited when it comes to mysteries. Anyway, meri baat chhodo. Yeh bataao, what brings you here? Waiting for someone?" She raised an eyebrow with a knowing expression.
"Yeah. Aditya," he replied, wondering who Deepali had been thinking of. "We're playing basketball at the gym with a couple other guys. How about you? Are you killing time before class?"
"Na, I'm done with my classes for the day. Ab to bas dance audition ka intezaar kar rahi hoon."
"Ah, Rehaan's dance, right? Have you seen his choreography yet? Is he the next Farah Khan?"
Deepali laughed. "He refused to show me anything before the audition, so I guess I'll find out today. But...I do have a pretty good idea of what to expect. My friend, Pooja, is on the South Asia Society board, and she told me that he's phenomenal. That's why I'm auditioning for the Fusion Dance instead of the Hindi Film Dance."
"Achcha to yeh baat hai," Zaid commented. "You chose to audition for his dance because you heard he's good, not because he's your friend."
"Friendship isn't everything, my friend," Deepali replied, dramatically. "With dance skills like mine, I'll accept only the very best choreography. Mediocrity just won't do." They both laughed at her feigned self-importance. "I'm kidding. Of course I would do his dance no matter what. Dosti ki hai to nibhaani padegi na?"
Zaid nodded with a smile, then assumed a contemplative expression. "You know," he said after a few seconds, "maine kabhi socha nahin tha ke hum sab itne achchhe dost ban jaayenge. I mean, considering the arguments on the night of Carissa's accident, who would have thought? Aditya and Hina, you and Rehaan...I didn't think we'd last through another ten minutes together."
"Seriously. And interestingly enough, all the conflicts seem completely ridiculous and pointless now. It's as if Carissa's accident put everything in perspective." They remained silent for a moment, and then Deepali noticed a packet of papers in Zaid's hands. "Yeh kya hai?" she asked.
"Kya? Oh this." He looked down at the papers. "It's an application for the Excellence in Engineering Internship. I just picked it up from the Dean's office."
Deepali raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that the really competitive Internship? Only one student from the whole university will be selected, right?"
"Yeah. That's why I wasn't planning on applying. I'm really not cutthroat enough for this sort of thing. Lekin Samira ko lagta hai ke mere alaava yeh position kisi aur ko mil hi nahin sakti. I know she'll be furious if I pass on the opportunity, so I'll give it a shot."
"It looks like a thick application. How long do you have?"
"It's due in three weeks," Zaid replied. "Hina and I are going to meet up tomorrow to get started on it."
"Hina's applying too?"
"Yeah. We're gonna help each other on the application."
"Hina's going to help her opponent?" There was skepticism in Deepali's expression.
Zaid sighed. "Come on, Deepali. Tumko kya lagta hai? That she'll try to sabotage my chances so she can get the internship?"
"I wouldn't put it past her. You know how ambitious Hina is. I think you should be cautious."
"And I think you've been reading too many detective novels. No wonder you always assume the worst in everyone. First Rehaan, then Karan, and now Hina."
"Karan ki baat mat karo," Deepali replied, rolling her eyes. "I would have no problem with him if he weren't so rude and sarcastic all the time."
Zaid grinned. "Okay, fine. But I am right, aren't I? You're cynical of everyone."
Deepali shrugged. "Well, better safe than sorry. And Zaid, don't take what I said about Hina the wrong way. Mujhe bhi lagta hai woh aisa kuch nahin karegi. I think she has more integrity than that. But it's not smart to blindly trust anyone, especially someone who you...have feelings for." She looked at him significantly.
Zaid's eyes widened. "You know about that?"
Deepali smiled to herself. Everyone knows about it, Zaid, she wanted to say. But she decided not to embarrass him. "Yes. And I think you two will make an adorable couple."
A pink tint appeared on Zaid's cheeks as he lowered his gaze. "Thanks. But I really don't know if she feels the same way about me."
"Well, if she doesn't, we'll just have to change her mind. Tumse achchha ladka usko kahaan milega?"
Zaid flushed even redder, but before he could say anything, he saw Aditya approaching the table, clad in a blue t-shirt and black basketball shorts.
"There you are, Zaid," Aditya said as he came and stood near the table. "Hey Deeps. Yikes, your shirt is blinding me."
Deepali glanced down at her hot pink top. "Very funny," she responded with a scowl.
"I'm kidding," he told her, grinning. "Audition ke liye tayyaar?"
Deepali grinned. "Tayyaari ki kya zaroorat hai? Lead position to har haal mein mujhe hi milegi."
Aditya raised his eyebrows. "Itna confidence? Well, I wish you luck because Rehaan's really serious about picking the best dancers." He turned to Zaid. "Ready to go? The guys are waiting over there." He gestured towards two guys passing a basketball to each other about 30 feet away.
"Uh...mujhe kuch kaam yaad aa gaya," Zaid responded. "Why don't you guys head over and I'll find you in the gym?"
"Is everything okay?" Aditya had just noticed the pinkness of Zaid's cheeks and was also confused by why Zaid suddenly changed his plans.
Zaid nodded. "Yeah. I'll be there in just a few minutes."
"All right. See you in a bit. Bye Deepali." With one curious glance back, he left to join the other guys.
"What happened?" Deepali asked Zaid with concern once Aditya was out of earshot.
"I just wanted to say something to you," he replied nervously. "Please don't tell Hina anything. I'm not sure if I'm ready for it to be out in the open yet."
Deepali smiled. "Is that all? Don't worry, I won't say a word. Yeh baat tumhen khud usko bataani chaahiye...whenever you're ready."
"I'm not sure when that'll be," he said with a sigh. He stood up and put his backpack on. "Thanks Deepali. I'll see you tonight."
As she watched him leave, Deepali couldn't help but smile to herself. It was impossible not to feel all warm and fuzzy inside after seeing so much adoration for Hina in Zaid's eyes.
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Walking out of the library with her Chemistry textbook tucked under one arm, Samira headed in the direction of her dorms. Strolling through campus, she marveled at the aesthetic beauty of her surroundings. The leaves on the oak trees lining the pathway were beginning to turn yellow and the majestic stone buildings glimmered in the afternoon sunlight. As much as she missed California and her family, Samira knew that there was no other place she'd rather spend the next four years than this campus.
As she passed by the Student Performing Arts House, she caught sight of Rehaan entering the building with an iPod in one hand. Wondering if the dance audition had begun yet, Samira felt curiosity get the better of her. She decided to follow Rehaan, and possibly get a glimpse of his choreography. When she walked in the front door of the building, she saw Rehaan disappearing into a room at the end of the hall.
Approaching the door, Samira peered inside. It was a huge dance rehearsal room, complete with polished wooden floors and ceiling-to-floor mirrors on every wall. On one end, next to the stereo system were two tables. Rehaan was sitting on one of them engaged in a phone conversation. Catching Samira's eye, he smiled and gestured for her to come in. She entered and leaned against the other table waiting for him to be done with his conversation.
"Papa, main aapse phir baat karoonga," he said into his cell phone. "Rizzy se keh dijiye ke jeet-haar to chalti rehti hai. He shouldn't get so upset over a game...Haan Papa, don't worry about me...Okay, bye." He ended the call and turned to Samira. "Sorry. How are you?"
"Doing well," Samira answered. "I wanted to see if the audition had started yet."
Rehaan shook his head. "Na, there's still another half an hour. Are you going to stay and watch?"
"I wish I could, but I have a Pre-med Honors Society meeting. But no worries. Main phir kabhi dekh loongi. I'm sure it'll be brilliant." She gave him a warm smile which Rehaan returned. "By the way, yeh Rizzy kaun hai?" she asked as an afterthought.
"Looks like someone was eavesdropping," Rehaan commented.
Samira giggled. "Hey, you really shouldn't be talking. Airport ki baat yaad nahin?"
Rehaan contemplated for a moment. "Well, you're right. But...if I hadn't listened into your conversation that day, we probably wouldn't have talked. And maybe we never would have become friends. So ultimately, it was a good thing right?"
"Can't argue with that," Samira replied, beaming. "So are you going to tell me who Rizzy is now?"
"Rizwan, my younger brother. He's in a soccer league and his team just lost a game. Thoda udaas hai. I wish I were there to cheer him up."
"You have a younger brother?" Samira asked. "Yeh baat mujhe kyoon nahin pata thi?"
Rehaan shrugged. "Shaayad maine kabhi zikr nahin kiya."
"Lekin maine kabhi poochha kyoon nahin? I feel like I know nothing about your family. I told you about mine, didn't I?"
"Your father's a neurosurgeon, your mother's a teacher, Zaid is a year older than you, and you have a younger sister named Maryam who's on her school's basketball team."
Samira frowned. "Thanks...just make me feel worse."
"Don't worry about it, Samira. Meri aadat hi kuch aisi hai. I just don't talk about myself much. I'm not trying to be conceited or anything. That's just the way I've always been."
Samira nodded understandingly. "Well, how about you tell me now? Aur kaun kaun hai tumhaari family mein?" She turned to him, resting her chin on her palm and looking into his eyes.
"Rizzy is my only sibling. He's eight years old, really smart and just full of energy." Rehaan smiled nostalgically to himself as he thought about his brother, and Samira couldn't help but smile as well. "My parents are both lawyers," he continued. "My father works for a private law fim and my mom..." He seemed to hesitate for a moment. "She's the mayor of a small town near Miami."
"She's a mayor?" Samira raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Yeah. She was elected last year." His eyes shifted uncomfortably, as if he'd rather avoid the topic.
Samira narrowed her eyes slightly as he noticed his uneasiness. "Rehaan, sab theek to hai na?"
"Haan, bas mujhe...It's just that..." Rehaan paused for a moment. He had not discussed this with anyone, but somehow he felt that Samira would understand. "She wants me to follow in her footsteps. You know, go to law school, establish a career in politics. And I really don't think I'm interested in that."
"What are you interested in?"
"I'm considering psychology at the moment. But I'm afraid of letting my mom down, you know?" He glanced at her as if hoping to get an opinion.
Samira sighed. "Rehaan, tumhaari zindagi ke faisle tumhein khud hi lene honge. Your mom will eventually understand. You're insightful and perceptive when it comes to feelings and personalities. I think psychology will be perfect for you. But I also think you should take your time before making a decision. Make sure that it really is what you want."
Rehaan gazed at her in silence, impressed with how well she knew him. As she smiled at him, something else caught his eye. "Wait a second," he said. "You got your nose pierced?!"
Samira touched the tiny silver stud. "Yeah, just yesterday."
"It looks so natural on you, I didn't even notice."
"I know," she replied with a grin. "I'm so glad I took your advice."
Rehaan was suddenly reminded of the one time he had purchased a gift of his own choice for his then girlfriend, Zeenat. They had been together for one month when her birthday had come up, and he gave her an ruby bracelet. She took one look at it, and immediately asked Rehaan if she could exchange it. Evidently, red was not her color. Zeenat had not even considered wearing the bracelet to avoid hurting Rehaan's feelings, and here was Samira, trusting his judgment without hesitation.
"Rehaan?" Samira interrupted his thoughts. "I think I should head over to my meeting now."
"All right. Thanks for the advice."
"No problem. Good luck with the audition." Samira began walking towards the door.
"Samira," Rehaan called out. She stopped and turned to face him. "I think we have the same schedule on Wednesday," he said to her. "Do you want to have lunch together?"
Samira gave him a heartfelt smile. "That sounds great."
"Bye Samira. I'll see you tonight at the group meeting."
He watched her until she left the room, wondering why he always felt compelled to compare her to Zeenat. They were as different as two young women could possibly be. While Zeenat was vivacious, spontaneous and possessive, Samira was calm, organized and practical. And it seemed that the more differences he found between them, the more he couldn't understand why he had fallen for Zeenat in the first place.
A few minutes before the clock struck six, the door of the dance room opened and Karan walked in. Dressed in a neatly ironed collared shirt and carrying a binder, he looked as if he were headed to an interview rather than dance audition.
"Hey Karan," Rehaan said. "Glad you could make it."
"I figured I could use more extracurriculars on my resume," replied Karan. "Thanks for letting me know."
Rehaan stood up from the table as the door opened once more and Deepali walked in with two other girls. Upon seeing Karan there, Deepali stopped suddenly in her tracks.
"Hey Deepali," greeted Rehaan.
"Hi," she replied. "Rehaan, can I talk to you over here for a second?" He walked over to her, and she glowered at him. "What is he doing here?" she hissed.
"Look, don't be mad. Carissa told me he's a natural. Isi liye maine use invite kar liya."
"Carissa said that?"
"Yeah. They went to high school together, remember? Once, Carissa and a group of her friends were putting on a salsa performance and the night before the show, one of the male dancers broke his leg. Karan was the only other guy at school that late, so they pleaded with him to take the injured guy place. Apparently, he learned the entire routine in two hours and ended up receiving more praise than any of the other dancers. I have to give him a chance." Rehaan sighed as he saw that the annoyance had not subsided from Deepali's face. "Deeps, mujhe pata hai ke tumhen woh pasand nahin hai, but I can't exclude him just for that reason."
Deepali relented unhappily. "Theek hai, lekin main usse baat nahin karoongi," she commented, a little louder than she had intended.
"Mujhe bhi tumse baat karne ka koyi armaan nahin hai." Karan was staring in their direction from about ten feet away.
Deepali just turned her back on him and walked away to join the small group that had gathered in one corner of the room. Rehaan turned to Karan and shrugged helplessly.
Ten minutes later, twenty Fusion Dance hopefuls were spread out across the floor, waiting for Rehaan to instruct them.
"Thank you all for coming," he began. "Today, I will teach you all a 90 second routine on the song Mauja Hi Mauja from Jab We Met, and watch you perform it. Then I will select six guys and six girls for the dance."
"Why can't we all be in the dance?" a tall, lanky guy asked. "There are 10 guys and 10 girls. It'll be even."
Rehaan frowned. "I wish I could, but the board told me that I can't take any more than 12 dancers. The other eight can be substitutes I guess."
"That is so unfair," a slender girl in a ponytail remarked. "How come the Hindi Film Dance is allowed to have 24 dancers, and you're only allowed to have 12?"
Rehaan couldn't trust himself to say anything on this topic without losing his temper. "I can't do anything about that, so we should get on with the audition."
For the next half an hour, Rehaan demonstrated the dance for them, while they imitated him. Then he allowed them to pair up (one guy and one girl) on their own, and practice. Finally, each pair performed individually for him twice. Rehaan watched every move carefully, eager to make the right decision.
After watching them all, he stood silently for a few minutes, replaying each dance in his mind. Then, he made one final request.
"Karan Sehgal and Deepali Mehta, could you please step forward?" Once they had obliged, he continued. "I'd like to see you two perform together once."
"What?!" Deepali exclaimed. "But why?"
Rehaan took a deep breath. "There's something I'm trying to figure out. If you both would just do this for me, it'll really help me make my final decision."
Deepali wasn't thrilled with this arrangement, but decided to try being cooperative. She glanced at Karan, who gave her a shrug. "Let's get this over with," he suggested.
Rolling her eyes, Deepali walked up to him, and took her position in front. Rehaan turned on the music, and they began the routine. Since they both believed that this performance could make or break their chances of being selected, they put all the energy and passion they could muster into it. The moment Karan put his hands on her waist for the first lift, Deepali could tell he was much more in sync with her than her previous partner had been. When he dipped her toward the ground and they both snapped back up simultaneously, Karan also became aware how perfect their coordination was. The more they danced, the more the harmony between them increased. In every move, they complemented each other so well that no one could take their eyes off of them. As the song came to an end and Karan and Deepali assumed their final pose, there was a pin-drop silence in the room. Then abruptly, the stillness was shattered by the thunder of applause and energetic cheers. Karan and Deepali broke away from each other, and without looking at one another, they returned to where they had been standing before Rehaan had made the objectionable request. They were contemplatively silent, stunned by their own chemistry.
Rehaan gazed at them with an amused grin. "Thought so," he said.
"I think you found your lead pair," one of the other girls commented.
"Couldn't agree with you more, Mansi," he replied.
Deepali gave him an exasperated look, but kept quiet. Karan shook his head. "You can't be serious, Rehaan."
"If either of you can reproduce that kind of chemistry with anyone else, I'll reconsider."
"Does this mean that you won't select us if we don't dance together?" Deepali questioned.
Rehaan shook his head. "Of course not. I've already selected you. But I want you to know that this dance means a lot to me. I need the Fusion Dance to be the best in the show this year, not just to prove myself as a choreographer, but also to make sure that the South Asian Society's politics backfires. The board needs to stop giving preferential treatment to their friends. I'm not sure if you guys are aware of this, but the club is paying for the Hindi Film Dance costumes, but not for those of any other dance. We're expected to hold fundraisers for ours." Everyone gaped in surprise and began whispering to one another. "I know, it's unbelievable, isn't it?" Rehaan continued. "If our dance surpasses the Hindi Film Dance this year, maybe they'll be forced to rethink their policies. Karan, Deepali...can you two please put your differences aside for two months? I'm sure that you'll set the stage on fire as the lead dancers."
Deepali sighed. "Okay, fine. I'll do this for you, Rehaan, but only if he agrees to keep his sarcastic comments to himself."
"I won't say anything," Karan replied, "as long as she doesn't bother me with her constant chatter."
"Okay, then it's settled," Rehaan spoke up before Deepali could retaliate. He smiled gratefully at them both. "Thanks guys. I really appreciate it."
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It was half past seven by the time Neelam wrapped up her work at the Physics lab and began walking home. The sun had just finished setting and the darkness was gradually spreading across the autumn sky.
As she made her way home, Neelam thought about her conversation with Hina earlier that day. It disturbed her greatly to think that despite hitting Carissa with his truck and fleeing from the scene, Todd Mitchell might not have to spend a single day behind bars. Neelam was absolutely certain of his guilt. She could still picture his face in the window of the truck, shocked but not at all remorseful. It was him...there was no chance that she could have made a mistake. Mitchell's hardened and scornful face could not be confused with anyone elses.
Deep in thought, Neelam turned the last corner and could see her house down the street. Abruptly, a terrifying sound echoed down the street, sending a chill down her spine. It was the bark of a dog, and if her senses were accurate, it was no more than ten feet behind her. She turned on the spot and froze with horror. A massive black dog glared ferociously at her, gnashing its teeth as it inched forward.
To be continued...
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