So how come all of the movies that I 'needed' to watch as an intro to Bollywood are all love stories?
Kiara bit her lip as she read the message that Emre had sent her on Saturday, well Sunday really, as he sent it way past midnight. It was 8.00am in the morning and Kiara was still lazing around in bed in her two-piece off-white, satin-silk pyjama set. She had with a whole lot of persuasion, and innocent-but-oh-so-very-tired expressions, convinced Mrs. Jones to postpone their four hour session today to be a bit later in the day. She would just like to for once, have a nice lie in on a Sunday, to have brunch in her pyjamas, to just enjoy a morning without any responsibilities. She knew that even though she would be done with her performance at Carnegie Hall, her mother will not stop with Kiara's daily practices.
From the moment that Salima had noticed that Kiara could play the piano, and play it extraordinarily well, Kiara had become more of a project rather than her daughter. She had sent Kiara to countless workshops, camps, classes, to ensure that Kiara's musical talent was not only polished but well known amongst their social circles. Kiara was less a daughter and more a work-in-progress where improvements could constantly be made.
A sigh escaped from Kiara's lips as she sat up and rubbed her arms as she thought about her mum. All her earliest memories were of her and her Baba, her mother was always somewhere in the background. Handing Kiara to someone else, so that she could go off to her Kitty Parties and shopping sprees. They weren't poor by any means even then, but Kiara could remember how they used to argue; screaming and shouting at each other when they thought she was sleeping. The only difference is that now, Salima doesn't bother to wait until Kiara is asleep. And whenever she is especially peeved at her husband, she takes it out on the person he loves the most in the world; Kiara.
Standing up; phone in hand, Emre's message unanswered, she walks to her window and sits on the ledge that overlooks a shared private garden. She watches as one of the older ladies, a very distinguished looking Chinese lady with greying hair, wearing a cacophony of colours, on her hands and knees as she plants what looks like bulbs in soil banks. The lady pauses and lifts her head slowly, as if sensing eyes on her. Locking gazes with her, Kiara smiles brightly as she waves. The lady waves slowly, every bit of her moving as gracefully as leaves rustling gently in a warm summer's breeze.
Smiling at her own overtly romantic thoughts, Kiara shakes her head as she continued looking out her window. Her eyes drift up towards the sky, as she watches the white tufts of cloud slowly but surely make their journey across the sky. Her fingers start tapping a beat, a melody that only she can hear, as she closes her eyes and drifts with the music that plays in her mind.
The door slams open, and Kiara jumps up in shock, dropping her phone on the hardwood floor with a loud smack. Eyes wide, she took in her mother's red cheeks and stern expression, her heart beating rapidly first in shock, then in fear. Her mother was already dressed for the day in an immaculate white silk shirt and grey tweed pants. Her make up accented her hazel-green almond shaped eyes and lashes, while also highlighting her high cheekbones. Her copper coloured hair was pulled back in a soft chignon, while her demeanour was anything but.
"Why are you not dressed for piano practice?" Kiara was questioned tersely.
Kiara gaped at her mother; she knew she had sent her parents a text informing them that Mrs. Jones had postponed their classes for later. She could hear the thumping of footsteps from outside, getting closer to her room. Her Baba, red faced stood behind her mother and shook his head at Kiara. While her mother was ready for the day, her father Moussa was still in his pyjamas. The white cotton shalwar kameez was full of wrinkles, indicating a night spent tossing and turning.
"Salima," Moussa said in an almost pleading manner, lightly placing his hand on her shoulder, "please..."
Kiara wasn't sure what was going on between her parents, but she gasped when her mother roughly shoved her father's hand away. She watched in silence as Salima stormed out of her room, leaving Kiara in shock while her father stood in her doorway with his shoulders slumped.
"Baba...?," was all that Kiara could manage to whisper. Her heart still beating wildly in her chest.
"It's okay, beta-ji. It's all going to be okay," Moussa said, almost to himself. Looking at his daughter who was frozen in place, he shot her a half-hearted smile as he reached out to grab the doorknob, "You continue resting for now. Come down whenever you feel hungry, breakfast is in the oven."
With that Moussa closed the door and left Kiara confused as to what had happened between both her parents that morning.
First of all, I gave you the list almost two weeks ago, and you've noticed this only now? Second, well I guess you can skip the following and head right over to the Historical Movies for the project, if you aren't a fan
-Â Â Â Â Jab We Met
-Â Â Â Â Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani
-Â Â Â Â Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge
- Â Â Â Dil Toh Pagal Hai
-Â Â Â Â Devdas
-Â Â Â Â Sholay
-Â Â Â Â Qayamat Se Qayamat Tak
- Â Â Â Hum Aapke Hai Kaun
-Â Â Â Â Hum Dil De Chuke Sanam
Emre couldn't help but think about the text that he had received from Kiara later that morning. He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he restocked the fresh milk into the chiller in the grocery store. Is Kiara mad at me or something?, his treacherous mind started thinking. He didn't want to tell her, but he had already watched most of the movies on her list. He remembered in clear detail how she had chewed on the end of her pencil as she tried to recall some of her favourite movies, movies according to her that made history and "shifted the paradigm of Hindi cinema and its people" - her passionate words not his. How her entire face lit up, as she animatedly told him about some dialogue or another, how her hand couldn't write as fast as her mind was going because she was that excited to share this part of her personality with him.
Emre shook his head, when he finally noticed that the plastic tray he was carrying was significantly lighter, being already empty, quickly headed to the back to pick up the next item that needed restocking. Before picking up the next tray, he slipped his right hand into his pocket to see if Kiara has sent him anything else. Frowning when he didn't see Kiara's name in his notification, he slipped his phone back into his phone ignoring everyone else who had texted him.
There were a few video and audio files he had received from band practice last night. He knew they were really beginning to sound tight, almost ready to head into a studio to start recording a full demo album. All those late nights of practice, those gigs in bars that were virtually unheard of had finally started paying off. Smiling, he slipped his left hand into his jeans pocket and rubbed the edge of the piece of paper that Kiara scribbled on between his fingers. He wondered how she would react if she ever found out that most of the slower ballads that he penned, were about her. Although to be completely honest, everything he wrote was almost always with her in mind. Hearing footsteps behind him, Emre hastily removed his hand from his pocket and ruffled his hair before picking up another tray of milk to restock the chiller.
"Hey, kid. How is the...uh...band...Lightning something-something doing?" he smiled as the owner and his father's good friend, Mr. Ahmad patted him on the back.
"It's Chasing Lightning, Mr Ahmad," Emre smiled as they walked back to the store front together.
"I could never understand these fancy band names...Rolling Stones, Nirvana, Foo Fighters...I mean KISS I understood, but not that makeup though...," Mr. Ahmad shrugged as he leaned against the chiller watching Emre restock the milk.
"It's about chasing something that's unattainable, you know how a flash of lightning is...you have to be at the right moment, at the right time, seeing it through a right lense to be even able to photograph it because it's so fleeting," Emre explained with a dimpled smile as he looked at the tanned lined face of Mr. Ahmad.
A face that had lived through as many happiness as it had tragedies. Which is probably why Emre never really hesitated too much when confiding in Mr. Ahmad; especially when it came to his music.
Throwing his hands up in the air, "Seriously, kid...all that went whoosh pass my head."
Smiling knowingly, he continued, "But, you keep smiling at them girls like that; you will be catching flies in no time!"
Mr. Ahmad cocked his head and studied Emre as he rolled his eyes, his cheeks tinged with a touch of pink, shifting uncomfortably in his shoes. "Is there a lady friend you want to talk to me about?" he asked, eyebrow cocked up.
"Nope," Emre answered, popping the 'p'. "No lady friend, as of yet," he said as the lifted the empty tray and carried it to the back on his shoulder.
"I mean, I am just assuming it's a lady....You know your family will love you even if you brought home a man-friend? Right?" Mr. Ahmad added hesitantly as he fumbled over his words.
Ruffling his hair again, he chuckled at Mr. Ahmad, "No Mr. Ahmad...it'll be a lady friend...but just not yet..."
"Why not yet, kid?" Mr. Ahmad asked, cocking his head to the side. "You're a good lookin' boy...Hardworkin' too...Damn talented, if I may say so myself..."
This time Emre couldn't hide the blush that stained his cheeks at hearing his praise. "Thanks Mr. A, but she's incredibly talented too. She plays the piano, and it's things like Beethoven...Mozart...," he sighed. Scuffing the floors with his shoes, he continued without really looking at anything, as though lost in his thoughts, "But she's insanely rich."
"You say that 'but' as though it's a bad thing," Mr. Ahmad said frowning, bafflement in his features.
"Of course it is, she wears Chanel on her toes. I can't even spell it right without checking it on Google, that's how far it is from my life. Real life...She is so out of my league that it's funny," Emre sighed.
"You know how much Romeo had to work for to get his Juliette?" Mr. Ahmad frowned in distaste at Emre. "You are throwing in the towel before you even shoot your shot, kid."
Emre frowned at Mr. Ahmad, "You do realise that both Romeo and Juliette die right, in the end?"
"What?" Mr. Ahmad looked at Emre flabbergasted, "What do you mean they die in the end? She was just pretending to die!"
"Yeah, well Romeo doesn't know that, and he drinks poison thinking that Juliette is dead. Juliette then wakes up, sees Romeo dead and takes his knife and stabs herself. That's the ending of it...," Emre trails, getting slightly worried at the shock plastered on Mr. Ahmad's friend.
"Well..." Mr. Ahmad scratches his chin awkwardly, "...okay then, they might not be the best example. But my point is about how Romeo is a go getter. He didn't give up because she was from the enemy's side..."
Emre threw his head back and laughed, "But she isn't from the enemy side. In fact, there are no enemies. Just the sad realisation of how life really is. That we really are two people from different sides of New York."
"You givin' up already?" Mr. Ahmad asked, as he followed Emre back into the store.
"I haven't even started trying, Mr. A," Emre laughed as he took off the store uniform as his phone buzzed, his shift already ended.
"Will you?" Mr. Ahmad asked him again.
"Will it get you off my back?" Emre shoot back with a twinkle in his eyes.
"You're not foolin' anyone, kid. You already more than like her," Mr. Ahmad frowned at Emre as he threw his head back and laughed. When he finally stopped laughing he squinted his eyes at Mr. Ahmad, as though trying to figure something out.
"Am I that obvious?" Emre asked in a small voice and Mr. Ahmad broke out in guffaws. Shaking his head, Emre ruffled his hair again, said his goodbyes, and walked out of the little grocery store leaving a laughing Mr. Ahmad behind.
A/N: Which is your fav movie from the list above? Anytime either Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani or Devdas is on the tele, I will almost always enp up watching it. Doesn't matter from which part I am at! LOL