Chapter Thirty-One
NASH
Now, ten years later, as Kiran recounted the memories of their meeting to Nash, she was astounded at how far they’d all come and how they’d still remained the same. So much security existed in the CMC bubble to be who they were—without ever changing their roots.
“So you guys have been friends since that night?”
“Yup. Since the night Payal wanted to hit on Akash.” Kiran laughed.
“Did they ever get together?”
Kiran shook her head. “It’s always been platonic between all of us…though Payal’s man-eating attempt has been the butt of our jokes for the last ten years, and Akash likes to let it go to his head sometimes.”
“I’m excited to meet them. I don’t have friends like that from college. I mean, Brandon and I have been friends since we were kids, but I floated a lot through college and grad school.”
“So you were a social butterfly and I was a snail, is that what you’re saying?”
“That’s exactly it. But being a snail sounds like it worked out really nicely for you.” Nash chuckled.
“I wouldn’t give them up for anything. They’ve become my family in the United States.”
Our daughter is dead to us, she heard in her mind.
But I’m not to the CMC, she thought defiantly. Nothing is going to ruin tonight.
They had a few minutes to kill so he gestured to walk around a couple of blocks. They continued to walk down Houston Street instead of crossing it, quietly taking in the life the streets had to offer. Couples strolled by, hand in hand, and groups of friends gathered outside bars, filled with buzzing chatter. Nash loved the distant view of the Williamsburg Bridge as they traveled down Allen Street and turned on Delancey Street, exposing the structure in the opening between buildings and seeing the headlights of cars reflect back.
They approached the bar on Essex. Kiran texted the others to see if they’d arrived.
Nash was pleasantly surprised to see a number of Indian people mixed with others of different ethnicities. Even from the street, they could smell the appetizers being made inside—samosas, aloo tikka, chaat, bhelpuri, and a plethora of other dishes mixed with spices like cumin, mustard, turmeric, chili pepper, and cardamom.
“Something smells amazing,” Nash commented and looked around.
“Why, thank you, sir.” Payal appeared from nowhere and met Nash’s eye. “I did wear my favorite perfume.”
Payal was stunning. Kiran had Nash’s eye, but he could see exactly where her descriptions of Payal came from—black skintight dress, long, straight hair, makeup that looked professionally done and sultry, and overt confidence that entered a room even before she did.
Kiran laughed at Payal’s entrance and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Nash, this is Payal.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you. Something about Akash, I believe.”
“You didn’t tell him that story!” Payal mock-glared at Kiran. “You’re blacklisted tonight.”
“What story? Oh, you mean the one where you tried to get in my pants?” Akash came up from behind them.
“You guys are all like ninjas tonight,” Kiran said.
“Well, if you and Nash would look away from each other, you may notice the rest of us,” Payal mumbled out of the corner of her mouth, but Nash caught it anyway.
Kiran hip-checked her in response.
“Sonam’s running late. Patients.”
“From the sounds of it, she’ll be drinking tonight,” Akash said.
“Hey…I remember hospital misery, though I was on the psychology, not psychiatry side. I’ll buy her a round for her ordeal,” Nash said.
The foursome found a booth and ordered some appetizers as Payal described each one in painstakingly creative detail.
“Samosas are fried dough pockets of goodness stuffed with spicy peas and potato stuffing.” Payal smacked her lips together.
“Hey, I’ve had those! Kiran got me some recently.”
“I can’t believe you hadn’t eaten Indian food until Kiran, man,” Akash said.
“I feel like Indian food is one of those things you need an experienced person for, you know? Kiran’s luckily the most experienced person I could ask for, so now that we’ve started, I can’t imagine stopping.”
“Sonam!” Payal cried as though she hadn’t seen her in years.
“Is she two or three drinks in?” Sonam asked. She gave Akash, who sat at the end of the booth, a quick hug.
“Two, but a third’s on the way.”
“I’m joining in… Know-it-all patients,” Sonam said.
“I’m buying. I was telling the others you deserve a round on the house after all you’ve dealt with in med school and post.”
“I like you already,” Sonam said with a high five. “Thank you! Also, I’m Sonam.”
“Nash.” He extended a hand, but Sonam went in for a hug anyway.
Nash was struck by the warmth and welcome of this group. They hadn’t batted an eyelash yet that he was new to New York and new to their culture.
“Your outfit looks amazing, by the way.” Payal gave Sonam the once-over. “Did you choose that yourself?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?” Sonam grumbled.
“Because you’re usually in scrubs or in really comfortable swingy clothes. This is uncharacteristically stylish.”
“Gee, thanks!”
“You didn’t choose it yourself, did you?” Akash held back laughter.
“No. Now shut up.” Sonam didn’t meet their eyes.
Nash suspected there was more to the story than Sonam was letting on, and a quick glance at Kiran affirmed his suspicion as she narrowed her eyes and frowned a little as though she was reading Sonam’s actions.
The appetizers arrived, and they dove in.
“I am famished,” cried Sonam, groaning as she took a bite of samosa.
“We can’t tell,” Kiran said.
“Oh my God.” Nash’s eyes rolled into the back of his head. “How did I miss this for so long?”
The starch of the potatoes also had a tangy spice to it, countered by the sweet peas. The crust of the samosa tasted like a pie crust and dissolved into flaky, buttery goodness in his mouth.
“Welcome to the club,” Akash said.
“So you’re British Indian, Payal,” Nash started a few minutes later, after listening to Payal talk about different combinations of sauces and appetizers.
“Is there a question hidden in there, or are you commenting on my accent?”
Nash chuckled. “Well, if you identify as British Indian, Sonam identifies as Indian American, correct? And you too, Akash.”
“Yup.” Sonam swigged her beer.
“And Kiran is Indian Indian…but if I ask any of you how you identify, you’ll answer—”
“Indian,” they all said, then met one another’s eyes and laughed.
“As long as you’re not asking the question ‘What are you?’ I think we’ll be just fine. That’s the most annoying one,” Sonam said.
“Oh, and if our parents own a gas station or a hotel.” Payal shook her head. “My parents own a corporation, Sonam’s are doctors, Akash’s parents teach at Columbia, and Kiran’s father has a shop in India.”
“We have twenty-nine states, seven territories, twenty-three official languages, four major castes, and hundreds of subcastes, at least nine major religions.… We aren’t the same,” Sonam said.
“I had no idea. That’s a lot of combinations.” Nash blinked a couple of times, trying to wrap his head around the diversity.
“Have we confused you yet?” Kiran teased.
“I can handle it.”
“Okay, are we dancing yet? I’m buzzed.” Payal’s accent came on a little stronger now.
“I don’t know what to do,” murmured Nash into Kiran’s ear as they slid out of the booth.
“No worries, mate,” Payal said, overhearing him. “There’s three moves you need to learn. Right now. Are you watching?”
“Like a hawk.”
The latest Bollywood tunes mashed with R & B tracks pounded through the speakers, encouraging all those on the outskirts of the dance floor to find their way in. Payal’s extended arms began turning as she pretended to screw a light bulb in what she promised was a basic bhangra move. Kiran swayed side to side and moved her arms slightly, letting her friends take the spotlight and the teaching credit as she watched. Nash couldn’t take his eyes off Kiran as she began to unwind and merge with her culture. The side he never got to see before, her authentic origins, was on full display, and he was utterly enamored.
“Look at her go!” Payal cheered as Kiran took over the middle of their circle.
Kiran shimmied her shoulders as the bass thumped through their chests. She gracefully hopped back and forth, even in her heels, like a goddess in classic bhangra style. Nash’s eyes followed her across the circle. Sweat poured from their bodies as they danced to music from a world away.
It wasn’t just Kiran feeling the beat—Nash let it move through him too. It was different from anything he was used to, but it was becoming more and more important by the second because it was so crucial to who Kiran was…and he was enjoying himself.
This culture was colorful and loud and boisterous, but the friendliness and camaraderie were unmistakable and so unique.
The club closed at two, and every minute was spent laughing, making jokes at the others’ expense, and dancing. Between the food, the company, and the night, Nash and Kiran stepped into the night air in a bubble of bliss.
“Well, guys, thank you for an incredible night.” Nash sighed. “I am gonna hurt like hell tomorrow, but it’ll be worth every second.” His shoulders ached from throwing his arms up so much and shrugging to the beat.
“It was so nice meeting you!” Sonam said genuinely. “We’d heard so many nice things, and finally getting a chance to get to know you was amazing.”
“I’m going to go with Payal, Nash. She’s a little worse for the wear,” Kiran said to him.
“Do you want me to come?”
“No, I’ve got it. I’ll come back to the apartment later or maybe spend the night at Payal’s.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” she said, locking eyes with him. “Can’t wait.”
“Sonam, call me anytime you’re stressed…and, Akash and Payal, I’ll see you guys again soon, I hope.”
As Nash headed off in the direction of the East Village, he couldn’t help but feel thrilled that his circle was expanding into one giant family.