American Born Indian - Part 3
Hi guys! Whew, this part took me so long to finish, what with writer's block in the middle and all. But I'm finally done! Here, we get to see the start of a new eighth-grade musical endeavour by the trio, as well as a secret of Aravind and Ruchi's revealed during a special occasion. Enjoy reading!
Chapter 11
The Best At It
Aravind, Ruchi and I are the best of friends now. We hang out together a lot, in school and occasionally when Ruchi and I are working at Rachit Uncle’s bookstore. Aravind often visits us, like now.
Ruchi and I are stacking collections of old Telugu novels on a small shelf when he joins us.
“My parents are talking to your dad. I was going to help you guys out,” he says to Ruchi.
She dusts her hands off. “Don’t worry, the last book’s in place. I just need to give Jay something.”
I sigh. “Ruchi—“
“Nope. No protesting. It’s only once. A token of gratitude.” She rummages through the shelves as Aravind and I exit the small corner and head into the main room.
“Wonder what she’s got up her sleeve now,” Aravind murmurs.
Seconds later, Ruchi returns with a book, The Best At It by Maulik Pancholy.
“For you.” She hands it to me.
I stare at the cover. There’s a bespectacled Indian kid in the middle, surrounded by all sorts of… what I’ll call stuff. Samosas, calculators, a camera, a math textbook—random, but… interesting.
“I’ve read it. It’s really good. But I thought,” Ruchi says with a smile. “You might like it more.”
I flip the book over. “How much do I—?”
“On the house, dude. Read it. Keep it if you love it. If you don’t, you can always return it. It is a bookstore, I know, but I’m willing to be a librarian for my friends.”
My mouth hangs slightly open, and I can’t find the words for a sec. “Thanks, Ruch.”
For the rest of the day, we stack and organise books on the shelves. A few customers come by, and Ruchi and Rachit Uncle help them find their selections, while Aravind and I spend time reading the Tintin collections.
Soon, Aravind leaves, and Rachit Uncle closes the store. On the drive home, with Ruchi riding shotgun and him driving, I crack open The Best At It and start reading under the dim glow of the car lights.
The book is pretty awesome. I sort of relate to Rahul, the main character, a lot. Okay, maybe the only thing we have in common is being gay, but something about his experiences makes me think, ‘Yeah, I’ve been there before’. Even after I get home and get ready for bed, I read a few more pages before going to sleep. I only stop when Nani calls a lights-out, and I put my book on the shelf and go to sleep.
Chapter 12
Musical Endeavours
In school, I’m still in the middle of The Best At It when Ruchi slams our desk with another idea.
“A band,” she says.
Aravind raises an eyebrow. “What band?”
“A rock band. Like OneRepublic! We can play for the school. Whaddaya guys think?” Ruchi looks at us, eyes all excited. Ever since she started learning the drums, the two of us have been having music sessions together. Expanding into a bigger group sure sounds like a cool idea, but…
“Will we be able to? I went to Anusha Ma’am, and she said after-school clubs and stuff like that weren’t allowed yet,” I say. Even though she’s the coordinator, there wasn’t much she could do but pat my back and hope for next time.
“Trying to start another Pride Club?” Aravind asks knowingly.
I blush. “It couldn’t hurt, could it?”
“It is June,” Ruchi muses.
“About the band,” Aravind starts. “Maybe if we talked to the music teachers? Cyju Sir, especially. He’s a fan of classic rock. I don’t know about 1R style, but remember he sometimes has us sing those songs during BCMD? He’ll be supportive of an eighth grade rock band.”
“That’s great! Will you be a member?” Ruchi’s eyes brighten.
Aravind shakes his head, mumbling something about not having enough ‘musical talent’. We don’t press him further. He may be friends with us, but getting him to open up more will take a while. I, on the other hand, will definitely help Ruchi out. A band can be something fun. And this is no knock against Chelsea and all my LGBTQ+ friends back in New York, but a band will be more fun than a Pride Club.
“Well, you know I’ll join as a lead guitarist. Let’s start finding members.”
During the lunch break, Ruchi and I gobble up our food as fast as we can, and start making our way through the various lunch groups to scope out members. Almost everyone in the grade plays an instrument. Most are beginners (the COVID-19 lockdowns freed up a lot of time to learn), but there are some who are good enough to be part of a band, according to Ruchi.
“First off is Aisha Naval. She’s been playing keyboard since UKG, and is also a singer and a songwriter,” Ruchi says as we walk over to her friends.
If Ojaswi’s the mean version of popular, Aisha is the total opposite. She’s the nicest girl in the grade, plus our classmate—and only dislikes Ojaswi and her friends.
“That girl needed to come to her senses in due time,” she told me a few days ago. “I’m glad Ruchi broke things off with her.”
When Ruchi approaches her, Aisha immediately smiles and lets her in the circle.
“To what do I owe this lovely pleasure?” She asks.
Ruchi grins. “We’re starting a rock band. Want to be our keyboardist? And songwriter? If you got the time, though. I know you’re kinda busy with your other stuff…”
“I’d love to!” Aisha gives her a hug. “You can count on me.”
We wave goodbye and start going around the court.
“We might need to find another guitarist. Specifically, a bassist. They’re a basic component of all bands,” Ruchi says.
We find that guy quick enough, in Manjeet Aggarwal. A bass and acoustic guitar player, he’s all about joining the band.
“Let me know when y’all are gonna start the first rehearsal. I’ll be there.”
This is great! We’re getting members faster than you can say OneRepublic.
“Four down, and how many to go?” I ask Ruchi later.
“Just one. Our lead singer. Our frontman or woman. Our Ryan Tedder.” But the determined look in her eyes fades. “But there are so many people who want to line up for that. Who do we choose?”
We head down the steps to the basement. It’s dark and dingy, like all basements, but EGPS cleaned it up a bit. It serves as teacher’s parking, the home of the BCMD rooms, and the location of the canteen, a very reduced cafeteria in a stall nearby a giant T. rex (don’t ask why, something from the school’s Ahan play showcase) and the indoor badminton and table tennis courts.
“Well, maybe I’ll ask Cyju Sir,” Ruchi continues. “He will know who’s best for the role.”
We head to the Western Music room, but stop. Sir’s inside talking to another student.
“Aravind! Glad to see you’re back,” he says.
Ruchi and I whip our heads and stare at each other. Aravind?
“Probably some other Aravind,” Ruchi adds quickly.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” the student inside replies. “Would you mind if I have a go with the golden mic?”
There’s no mistaking that voice. It’s certainly our Aravind. Ruchi and I move closer to the window.
Cyju Sir hands Aravind what looks like a fancy rose-gold karaoke mic I’ve seen Trace’s sister Rachel use. He lets the students use it for their BCMD exams. If Aravind’s with it, something is up.
“One, two, three, four!” Sir plays the music.
“This is where I'm supposed to be
I might be young, but I'm mighty
So let the talkers talk, they can say what they say
They're gonna see my name in lights up on the marquee one day
I’ma do what I do, make the city mine
I might be small, but I’m—
I’m headed to the big time!”
Holy crap! He can sing?
“Sure is the guy of your dreams, huh?” Ruchi grins at me teasingly.
Cyju Sir is clapping. “Still the same! Wonderful, wonderful. I tell you, Aravind, why didn’t you join the choir group?”
“Maybe he doesn’t need to.” Suddenly, Ruchi’s in the doorway. “Dude, you’re so good! Why didn’t you tell me you sing? You should totally be our lead singer.”
Aravind slowly backs away. “I don’t know…”
“Come on, Aravind!” I say. “It’ll be fun.”
Aravind’s eyes dart from Ruchi to me. Then, Cyju Sir puts a hand on his shoulder.
“You need a fresh start, son. After everything with COVID and… last year, well… I think joining the band will be great. Plus, you have your friends, right?”
Aravind looks at him, then smiles. “Okay. I’m in.”
Chapter 13
The Underdogs
It’s the first meeting of the band today. Aisha, Manjeet, Ruchi, Aravind and I gather around Cyju Sir’s table in the Western Music Room.
“Not a bad bunch.” Sir nods appraisingly. “Now, you need to choose your group name.”
“OneRepublic’s taken, obviously,” Manjeet cheesily puts in. “No chance of taking it back.”
“We knew that.” Aisha rolls her eyes. “We need something original.”
“What about a phrase?” I put in. “Like that band, Why Don’t We?”
Everyone murmurs an agreement. Sounds like a good brainstorm. Just then, Sir’s phone starts ringing. Or singing, in this case.
“Talk that talk and we back it up
We gon' win no matter what
Won't stop till we prove them wrong
Nobody's rooting for the underdog…”
Sir groans. “My niece, she’s put this ringtone. Hold on a second, students.”
He picks it up, and starts talking in Malayalam. “Aa, Shailaja…”
“Nice song,” Aravind murmurs.
“Makes for a good title track,” Aisha notes. “Or an introduction.”
“To a TV show.” Manjeet picks up the line of thought.
“Or a band!” Ruchi and I cry out at the same time.
Cyju Sir glances at us, still talking, and we quiet down.
“That could be our name,” Ruchi whispers excitedly. “Underdogs! It sounds so us.”
“I like it,” Aisha agrees.
We’re all nodding so much we look like bobbleheads on a rocking ship in the sea, and when Cyju Sir puts his phone down, we all start babbling at the same time.
“Sir, we got a name for the band—”
“Sir, we need a song now—“
“Sir, the ringtone song works, Sir—“
“When do we start rehearsing, Sir—“
Sir puts his hands up. “Hold on! One at a time. Ruchi, is that a breakthrough I heard? Mind letting me know what it is?”
Ruchi grins. “The name of the band, Sir. Underdogs. I think it fits us perfectly. And the ringtone; it could be our first song.”
Sir looks the song up. “‘Underdog’ by MattyBRaps. Even if I’m tired of the ringtone, I think it’s a perfect selection, students. Let’s start practice tomorrow.”
Ruchi throws her drumsticks on the ground in disgust. “What the heck is wrong with us? It’s been two days and we’re not getting anywhere. We’re still stuck on the first verse, for crying out loud!”
She’s right. We’ve been trying to find our groove and connect on the same plane, but it’s harder than it looks. Manjeet and I struggle with switching guitar riffs, Aisha still uses the styles in-built in the keyboard even though we have a ‘perfectly good drummer’ (Ruchi’s words, not mine) and Aravind’s voice is too low to be heard over the music, even with the golden mic.
Cyju Sir is surprisingly not mad about it, even though he was visibly cringing at the discordant playing the past few days.
“It will take a while, Ruchi. Don’t worry about performing. You’re here to have fun.”
“Yeah, but… fun’s more when we sound right,” she mumbles. We all agree discreetly.
Sir ends practice and we head back up to class, a lot earlier than the bell. Ruchi sprints up the stairs along with Aisha and Manjeet, but Aravind hangs back.
“You think this will be one of those failed pursuits you get really hyped up about, and then it disappoints?” He asks me.
I bite my lower lip. “Honestly, I guess Ruchi’s really hyped up about playing the drums, and the band’s probably a way to channel her talent or something. For all of us, really.”
He frowns. “Well… I like to sing, but I wanted to keep it to myself. Don’t get me wrong, Ruchi’s got the right intentions, but… singing was more of a small secret than a big deal to me.“
“Dude.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “Nobody’s forcing you to come out of your shell right away. Definitely not Ruchi. She knows you’ll take time —we all do. And if singing’s not something you want to share with the rest of the world, it’s okay. We can always look for another person; being our lead vocalist isn’t compulsory.”
Aravind stares down at his shoes, then closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No. Cyju Sir was right; I need a fresh start after two years of being holed up at home. If Underdogs is the way to do it, then I’m doing it.” He looks at me bravely. “I’m not backing out. Not this time.”
Chapter 14
Rakhis and Secrets
“Jay, wake up! It’s Raksha Bandhan.” Mom arrives in my room and switches on the light.
I yawn and sit up in bed. “What’s that, now?”
“Nani and I are supposed to tie rakhis on your hand, don’t you remember? Now come, you’re already late.”
Oh, yeah. That brother-sister ceremony thing, but Nani and Mom are doing it with me because I don’t have any sisters.
I get out of bed and hurry to the washroom to get ready. Mom hands me a light yellow kurta for me to wear, with a shimmery (and really itchy) fabric. When I come outside, Nani’s already near the puja shrine, chanting mantras and preparing a plate with red tika, halwa, an oil lamp, some envelopes, and the rakhis. I’ve seen such ceremonies in the old Bollywood films Mom and I would watch together, but the simple nature of the rakhis are a far cry from the huge flowery ones on screen.
I cover my head with my handkerchief and fold my hands as Nani and Mom do the puja for me, put the red tika on my forehead, tie the rakhis on my right wrist. I turn them over, looking at the beaded thread binding me to protect Mom and Nani my whole life.
I reach for the envelopes, which contain shagun to give to Mom and Nani, like tradition, but Nani pushes my hand away.
“Not now. That’s for the second ceremony.”
“Second ceremony?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes. Ruchi’s coming over, and so is Aravind. She celebrates Raksha Bandhan with him every year, and she wants to tie you a rakhi as well,” Mom says.
Aravind’s coming here? I blush a little and rake a hand through my what-was-perfect-a-few-minutes-before-but-now-seems-absolutely-messy hair.
Nani notices the blush. “Someone’s a little more excited than usual.” She grins.
I laugh nervously. “Ah, what are you talking ‘bout, Nani?”
“Well, Aravind seems nice, from what you’ve told me.” Mom picks up the plate. “I can see why you like him.”
My face is on fire now. Aw, crap! I know Nani and Mom are trying to be supportive, but Aravind is a secret I’d thought I’d keep to myself. Sheesh. I’m in for a lot of teasing when they’ll arrive.
Ruchi puts the sweet halwa in my mouth and I laugh at the cheeky smile on her face. She’s enjoying feeding me the prasad.
“You forgot me, you know,” Charu says, sitting on my right.
Ruchi rolls her eyes. “Of course, we all know you love halwa.” Aravind and I laugh.
After Charu gets his share of the prasad, Nani officially declares the ceremony concluded. Us three best friends immediately dart to my room while Nani, Chanchal Aunty and Mom catch up.
“So many people to protect.” I turn over my wrist to stare at the two new rakhis I received: a tiny flowery one from Ruchi, and one from Chanchal Aunty with the Om symbol on it.
Aravind laughs and shows his wrist. Three gold-threaded rakhis shimmer in the dim lights. “Guess we both share that task, huh?”
Ruchi hops on my bed with a thud. “It’s up to me to protect you both, especially Jay, and especially from the wrath of Shalini Ma’am, the evil demon lady.”
We laugh. Shalini Ma’am as an evil demon lady is a fitting description. And me, Mr. America, definitely needs Ruchi’s Darth Vader stare to shield against enemies; adults and kids alike.
I was half-hoping to see Aravind’s family today, too. “Where are your parents?” I ask him.
Aravind turns pale, then looks down, fumbles with a loose thread on his pink kurta. “They… uh… couldn’t make it. Had some… um… errands,” he murmurs.
I look at Ruchi, who discreetly pats Aravind’s hand and gives me a shrug.
“You guys wanna rehearse? Tomorrow we’re performing,” she says instead.
Aravind looks up and smiles. “Sure.”
“I’ll join you guys, but I need to go real bad. BRB.” I get off the bed and leave the room. Once I’m out of the bathroom, I almost step back inside but stop when I hear Ruchi and Aravind whispering.
“It’s not easy with him gone.” Aravind’s voice is laced with a new kind of grief I haven’t heard.
“I know. Raksha Bandhan was always like that: you, me, Charu and Bhaiya. But now we have Jay.” Ruchi’s comforting tone seems to ease Aravind—but worries me.
“Jay isn’t him. He’s not replacing him.” Hardness. There’s a small crack in my heart when I hear it.
“Aravind, we need to tell him. There’s a reason you haven’t been able to speak a word until he showed up.”
“And I like him and appreciate him for that. For somehow just coming at the right time and making everything feel like normal again. But he can’t bring Bhaiya back, or be Bhaiya, either. I still can’t talk about whatever happened in the past few years with other people, not even Jay.”
In the silence, my fingernails dig into my palm, and I’m acutely aware of my breathing.
Then, Aravind’s voice returns, darker, melancholic. “He’ll find out on Independence Day. Everyone in the whole school already knows. He’ll just be one more person added to the list.”
Chapter 15
The Stage Is Set
I grunt as I lift the bass drum and heft it into my arms, keeping my legs open for balance. Holy crap. The person who invented this certainly made sure it should be lifted by a heavyweight champ.
Aravind, carrying a relatively lighter snare drum, breezes by me. “You okay back there?”
“Nope. Not with this monstrosity in my face. And, we have to climb stairs!” I peek out from behind the drum.
Aravind chuckles. “You’re lucky it’s one floor up and not three floors down. There’s a drum set in the audi as well, but no one plans to lug it down.”
I stagger up the stairs cautiously, then breathe out a sigh when I reach the ground floor. One of the akkas come and help me move the drum down the hallway and onto the basketball court’s stage. Ruchi’s nearby, setting up the mics and our amps, drumsticks peeking out from her lunch bag. I see Aisha going over the lyrics again, and Manjeet talking to Cyju Sir near the movable audio booth.
“You’re here,” Ruchi says when she sees me. “You guys ready?”
I nod as the other parts of the drum set fall into view. “Ready.”
When everything is finally set up and the bell rings for lunch, students trickle down the stairways and from the halls to settle into their usual spots in the basketball court.
I squint as Manjeet comes up on stage. “Wait. Are there… more people?”
He shrugs. “I hit up a few of my friends via Discord. Told them to spread the word. They’re usually down in the basement buying canteen food, but I guess they followed through for today.”
I’m amazed—and kind of scared. The court was usually sparse, which is what calmed us down when Sir told us we’d be performing here. Aravind was especially relieved. But now that there are more people, I don’t know how he’s going to take it.
I walk over to Aravind, who’s adjusting the centre mic. “Will you be able to sing with all these people around?”
He looks around and sort of half-laughs. “It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
I smile back and bump fists with him. “Good luck.”
Now the court is full. Ashish Varma, the grade 12 host, picks up a mic.
“Hello everyone, and welcome to Radio Wednesday! Thanks for tuning in, and today, we have some big news: a bunch of eighth-graders—all of whom I don’t even know—have formed a rock band! Isn’t that interesting? Today’s their first performance, the ‘Underdogs’ as they call themselves—nice, am I right? And their song, is also—coincidentally—called ‘Underdog’ by first a random dude, now famous YouTuber MattyBRaps. Okay, put your hands together for… the Underdogs!”
Thunderous applause. Aravind jumps, and so does everyone else. I look at Ruchi, who raises her drumsticks in the air.
Tap, tap, tap tap!
The music starts. Manjeet leans into the mic.
“Yes sir! We the Underdogs!”
A cheer rises up from the crowd.
Aravind starts singing:
“Talk that talk and we back it up
We gon' win no matter what
Won't stop till we prove them wrong
Nobody's rooting for the underdog
Talk that talk and we back it up
We gon' win no matter what
Won't stop till we prove them wrong
Nobody's rooting for the underdog…”
I go near the mic, still playing my guitar.
“They try to knock me down
But I get up
When it comes down to it
I just don't give up—“
Ruchi:
“And I could give in to 'em, but for what?
I’ma fight for what I love!”
Aisha:
“People talk, and they be so phony
“Behind your back, so I watch it closely—“
Back to Aravind:
“Got my day ones, and we stay prayed up
So you know I'll get what's meant for me—“
And all of us:
“Talk that talk and we back it up
We gon' win no matter what
Won't stop till we prove them wrong
Nobody's rooting for the underdog
Talk that talk and we back it up
We gon' win no matter what
Won't stop till we prove them wrong
Nobody's rooting for the underdog…”
“Seems you had a wonderful performance!” Nani nods approvingly.
“Yeah, we had so much fun.” I grin, sipping the cold coffee with chocolate ice cream Mom always prepares for me on humid days.
Something nags at my mind, and it hits me: I’ve been thinking all week, and I realised I don’t have the nerve to ask Ruchi about the mysterious ‘Bhaiya’ she and Aravind were talking about. But maybe Nani might know? After all, she used to spend lots of time with them.
“Nani, who’s this… Bhaiya? Ruchi and Aravind were talking about him a while back. I was wondering if you could tell me more about him.”
Nani stares into the scarf she’s knitting. “Well, the word ‘Bhaiya’ means older brother in Hindi.”
“Wait, so how come Ruchi and Aravind have an older brother? They have different parents!” I exclaim.
She laughs. “No, no. People call older men and boys Bhaiya even when there aren’t familial relations. Like we call the owner of the sabzi mandi across the road. Besides, Ruchi never had an older brother.”
“And Aravind?” I prompt.
Now, the strangest thing happens, all of a sudden; Nani’s face turns as white as a sheet, like she’s seen a ghost or something. The knitting pauses in her hands as she stares at the singing reality show on the TV.
“Nani? Is everything okay?” I prompt.
She blinks. Her eyes clear the momentary fog, and she turns to me. “Ah, yes, beta. Oh, look, it’s that nice boy from Patiala again. Raise the volume a little.”
I pick up the remote, but her ashen face a few seconds ago plays back in my head. And she skipped the topic entirely. Now the gears in my head are turning. Why doesn’t Aravind talk about his older brother, if he had one? Why haven’t I seen him in school yet? Is he in another school? But if so, surely he would’ve come up, right? And why didn’t Ruchi tell me anything about him, either?
Then, a flash of a date appears: 15th August. Independence Day. Aravind said I’ll find out then, right?
I check my phone. Today’s the 12th. That’s three days. In three days, I’ll find out about this secret. And maybe I’ll get to know about this whole thing. And I can gain their full, true trust. A trust which’ll bond us like best friends more than ever.
Just three more days, Jay. Just three more days.
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