Project bollywood, p.1
Project Bollywood, page 1
The cover photo shows a young man looking up to his left.
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PROJECT BOLLYWOOD
MAHTAB NARSIMHAN
Copyright © Mahtab Narsimhan 2022
Published in Canada and the United States in 2022 by Orca Book Publishers.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: Project Bollywood / Mahtab Narsimhan.
Names: Narsimhan, Mahtab, author.
Series: Orca currents.
Description: Series statement: Orca currents
Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20210182776 | Canadiana (ebook) 20210182814 | ISBN 9781459832114 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459832121 (PDF) | ISBN 9781459832138 (EPUB)
Classification: LCC PS8627.A77 P76 2022 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021934060
Summary: In this high-interest accessible novel for middle-grade readers, a young filmmaker tries to recreate a Bollywood film for a school project.
Orca Book Publishers is committed to reducing the consumption of nonrenewable resources in the production of our books. We make every effort to use materials that support a sustainable future.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Edited by Tanya Trafford
Design by Ella Collier
Cover artwork by Getty Images/Mayur Kakade
and Getty Images/Jonathan Knowles
Author photo by Dean MacDonnell of MacDonnell Photography
Printed and bound in Canada.
25 24 23 22 • 1 2 3 4
For Tanya. Who gets my stories.
Chapter One
Salman curled his scrawny biceps in time to the thumping beat of the dance music. He checked himself out in the gym mirror and generally liked what he saw. A handsome, if slightly—okay, very thin—young man. He had work to do though. He had the same name as a famous Bollywood star. He wanted to be as famous as that Salman Khan. He added squats while continuing to work his arms.
“Salman, your mother is on the phone,” said Ramesh, walking into his room. He held out the cordless phone. “She said she tried calling your cell phone, but no one picked up.”
Salman grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat off his face. Ramesh, who basically ran the Khan household, turned down the volume on the stereo.
“You could have knocked before coming in,” Salman snapped.
“I did, but how could you have heard me?” said Ramesh. His tone was soft.
Salman immediately felt bad for his tone of voice. It wasn’t Ramesh’s fault that he was trying hard to look like his hero, Salman the Star. And the music had been loud.
“Hi, Mom,” he said. “Sorry, I was working out and didn’t hear my phone. What time are you and Dad getting home?”
Ramesh started to tidy up Salman’s room. Salman let him, moving toward the window.
“What? Mom, you promised you’d be home by the weekend. The blockbuster Hungama just opened. We were planning to see it all together. Remember?”
Salman noticed Ramesh standing in the doorway. He looked sad. Salman turned away from him, not wanting his pity. He wanted his parents to come home, but apparently that wasn’t happening anytime soon. He placed the handset down and put it on speaker. He picked up his weights and started doing more curls.
“These buyers are very demanding,” said his mom. “Your father and I are still negotiating the contract with the lawyers. We’ll be working the whole weekend. I’m sorry, Salman. But why don’t you invite your friends over? You said they loved watching Hindi movies with you.”
“It’s not the same as watching it with my family,” said Salman coldly. “Your business always comes first.”
“What do you want me to do? Shut down everything and just fly home?” his mom asked, her tone sharp. “You know what that would mean?” Salman rolled his eyes, even though his mom couldn’t see him. He knew what came next. He’d heard it a million times before. “No more expensive gadgets for you. No video cameras, or editing software, or big monitors to screen your movies on. We’ll stay home, live a modest life, and watch movies. Would you prefer that, Salman?”
Salman almost snorted. His parents had several companies that manufactured IT security equipment. These products and services were always in demand. Even if they retired now, they could all live comfortably for the rest of their lives. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out. The fact was, his parents loved the luxuries money could buy, but above all they loved to work. Thrived on it. It was as important as the air they breathed. Their son, Salman figured, was more like a french fry to them. Fun to eat, but best had in small amounts.
“Okay, Mom, I get it,” said Salman as he started doing some more squats. His mom was still talking, asking the usual questions about school, but he was in no mood to share. She was probably getting a more detailed report from Ramesh anyway.
“Salman? Are you there?”
“Yeah, Mom,” he said. “But I have to go.”
“Okay, love you, sweetheart,” she replied.
“Bye, Mom,” said Salman and disconnected the phone.
He picked up his cellphone. Three missed calls from Mom. None from Dad. Ramesh was the one looking out for him and he’d been rude to him for no reason. He felt bad for a second. He’d make it up to Ramesh later. He texted his best friend, Jason.
Want to hang out tonight?
Jason texted back almost immediately.
Can’t. Have to babysit sibs. Check with Maya and Arman.
Maya and Arman were the other two of their group. If it weren’t for them he’d be as invisible in school as he was at home. He fired them each a text. Neither responded.
Maya had so many extra-curricular activities going on, it was a wonder she had time to do homework. Arman was into biking and was making the most of fall. He wanted to get in as much time as he could before the snow made it tough to ride. He was probably out riding now. Sighing, Salman looked at the clock on his phone. He had time for a shower before lunch.
Lunch was delicious. Ramesh, born and brought up in Chennai, had mastered the art of the crispy dosa with spiced potato filling. Even his friends raved about Ramesh’s cooking.
“Great food, as always, Ramesh. Sorry I snapped at you earlier,” said Salman when he finished.
Ramesh nodded. “I understand. It mustn’t be easy for you. But your parents have a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders. They have to make sure their employees are also looked after.”
Salman felt the familiar irritation rising, and he fought to keep it down. “You don’t need to make excuses for them,” he said. “I’m fine and thanks to their hard work, I have everything I could need or want.”
Ramesh didn’t respond. He started clearing the table.
Salman got up and wandered into the media room. It had a giant-screen TV, a perfectly calibrated surround-sound system and soft lighting. It was impressive, but it was just one room in their fourteen-room mansion. They also had an indoor pool, a sauna, and gym. The manicured lawns behind the house were so huge it was hard to believe this place was right in the middle of a big North American city.
If this were a Hindi movie, their house would have belonged to a villain who had earned all his wealth through terrible and illegal means. But Salman’s parents weren’t villains. They were just missing. All the time.
Salman flopped onto the cream sofa in front of the TV. Instead of turning it on, he stared at the ceiling.
This house had everything a person could want.
Except people to share it with.
Chapter Two
Salman Khan, the popular Bollywood actor not the scrawny teenager, was fighting a bunch of villains in Dabangg 3. His punch went right through a steel door and landed on a gangster’s face. In another scene, he kicked a bad guy, and the man flipped in the air three times before landing with a thud. Salman flexed his muscles and stood there while the gangster pleaded for mercy. The camera angled in for a close shot of the star as dramatic music played in the background.
Jason rolled on the floor of the media room, clutching his stomach and roaring with laughter. Arman crunched nonstop on potato chips. His eyes were glued to the action on the screen. Maya giggled into a pillow.
Salman smiled. Even though his friends thought Bollywood movie plots were corny and made no sense, they watched all the new ones with him. He loved them for it. He also made it a point
Ramesh slipped into the room to replenish the snacks. Salman met his eyes and nodded his thanks.
Ramesh winked and nodded back. Then he slipped out again, no doubt busy with more chores.
Salman had no idea how Ramesh had tracked his friends down, but he had. Not only that, he’d rented the latest Salman Khan movie and prepared a table full of sweet and savory snacks. So now, instead of moping in his room on a Saturday night, Salman was enjoying the third installment in one of his favorite movie series with his friends.
The movie ended and the credits rolled. Salman muted the sound. “I really want to make a movie,” he said.
“Don’t they cost millions of bucks to produce?” asked Maya.
“You are talking to a guy who is rolling in cash,” said Arman. “If anyone can afford to make a blockbuster, it is Salman. Right, brother?”
“Bro,” said Jason. “If you’re going to use the lingo, use it correctly, bro.”
Arman rolled his eyes.
“Back to my movie,” said Salman. “It doesn’t have to be a major production. Just a small one. If I wrote out a script, would you all be in it? We could shoot it over the Christmas holidays. You don’t want to be eating turkey and playing games all week. Right?”
Salman was sure he would be spending a lot of the Christmas holidays on his own. Mom and Dad would be working. But if he had a project to occupy himself, time would go by faster. It was the perfect time to make his movie. And who better to shoot it with than his buddies?
Maya jumped to her feet, flipped her curly hair with one hand and batted her eyelids. “The lead role is mine,” she said. “I can totally dance around a tree in the rain.”
“And I am your hero!” said Arman, punching the air in a mock fight.
“Hold it right there,” said Salman, throwing a pillow at Arman. “If anyone’s going to be the hero in my movie, it’s me. You can be the villain.”
“What about me?” asked Jason, stuffing a jalapeño popper into his mouth.
“You’ll be my loyal buddy,” said Salman. “We’ll have a fun time together, but you’re going to have to die somewhere in the middle so I can avenge your death.” His brain was already churning with the possibilities of the script he had yet to write. Jason made a face.
Maya’s phone chimed. She looked at the screen. “Have to go home. Mom’s orders.”
“Yeah, we have to go too,” said Jason. “Awesome evening, Sal!”
“That was fun, bro,” said Arman, grabbing another handful of chips. “But I don’t think I want to be the villain. I want a better role.”
Salman smiled. “You’re welcome. And hey, I haven’t even written the script yet. But I assure you, everyone will have a good role.” As his friends filed out of the media room, he added, “I’ll ask Ramesh to give you all a ride home.”
“Thanks!” said Maya. “I didn’t want to stand at the bus stop in the cold. The wind is really picking up.”
“Wind does not bother a hero,” said Arman, laughing, as he put on his jacket. He flexed both arms in the same pose as Salman Khan. The actor.
“You’re still not getting the lead role, bro. Or the role of the loyal buddy,” said Jason. “Right, Salman?”
Salman had returned with Ramesh. He was loving all this banter. He really wished his friends didn’t have to leave. In a few minutes the house would be silent again. Quiet enough to hear his own heartbeat.
“I’ll get the car,” said Ramesh, walking out ahead of them.
“Hey, Sal, how are your parents?” asked Maya.
The question made Salman feel like someone had reached in and squeezed his heart. “They’re fine. Still in China, negotiating some deal or other.”
“They’re not home a lot, are they?” said Jason. “You must really miss them.”
A sharp nudge from Arman almost threw him off-balance.
Salman forced a smile. “I do, but I’m used to it by now. Ramesh is good company and I have you campers. Thank god Mr. Fodi grouped us together for that project last year. I could never have got through seventh grade without you all.”
Maya slung an arm around Sal’s shoulder and squeezed. The boys fist-bumped him.
“We got your back, bro,” said Jason. “Maybe I can be the hero in your next film!”
Salman laughed and clapped Jason on the back. A horn honked outside. Ramesh was waiting. Salman opened the door and the sharp wind slid inside, chilling him to the bone. It was the beginning of November and already there was a hint of snow in the air. Maya, Jason and Arman ran to the car and scrambled inside. They all waved at Salman as Ramesh drove off down the long driveway. Despite the cold, Salman stood and watched the red taillights till they rounded a bend and disappeared. Then he shut the door. The house was so quiet.
He tidied up the media room and put away all the food, waiting for Ramesh to return. In his head were the beginnings of a great movie idea.
It would be the blockbuster of the century. He was sure of that.
Chapter Three
Ms. Lopez, who taught media arts, was Salman’s favorite teacher. She allowed them to experiment with their assignments. And she gave marks for creativity. Let your imaginations soar was a frequently repeated instruction in her class. She was colorful in her teaching style and in her appearance. Today she was wearing baggy linen pants and a bright red tunic. Sparkly earrings peeped out from her mop of shoulder-length silver hair.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said. “Settle down, please. I have a special project that I think you will enjoy.” Her eyes twinkled.
Almost everyone in the class shut up. Ms. Lopez looked around the room. “You will have two weeks to create a group project to present to the class. It can be in any medium you like, but it should be built around some or all of the topics we’ve covered so far. I’m passing around a list of ideas to help you get started. If anyone has questions, come see me after class.”
Salman felt like leaping onto the desk to dance to a Bollywood song playing in his head. He knew exactly what he wanted to do for his project.
“Salman!”
Salman snapped out of his daydream. The entire class was staring at him. “Yes, Ms. Lopez?”
“I called your name because you seemed very far away.”
Salman felt his face grow hot. “Er, I’m sorry, Ms. Lopez. What did I miss?” Several people laughed.
Ms. Lopez shook her head, but her eyes were smiling. “You’ve been grouped together based on your last names.”
Salman grinned at the good news. “Awesome! I’ve already started thinking about the project! I’m super excited.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear,” she said. “I can’t wait to see what your group comes up with.”
Salman glanced around at his friends, who returned his smile. Once again, things were going his way. His friends, Arman Kazmi, Jason Lewis and Maya Maloney, would be in his group again because of their last names. They’d worked so well as a team when they’d first been grouped in Mr. Fodi’s class the year before. They’d enjoyed each other’s company and had become inseparable. Salman tried not to think about the year after this, when they’d move on to high school and be apart.
“So it’s me, Maya, Jason and Arman,” said Salman. “Right?”
“And Natalie,” said Ms. Lopez.
Natalie Ming. Salman knew that name and it stood for trouble. Why couldn’t her last name have started with A or Z? “Oh,” he said weakly, glancing over at Natalie.
She gave him a nasty look in return.
At lunchtime, Salman sat in the cafeteria with his friends. “Cheer up,” said Maya, dipping a sweet pepper into a small container of hummus. “Natalie’s not so bad once you get to know her.”
“Well, she doesn’t have a problem with making her opinions known,” said Jason through a mouthful of burger. “If she’s got something to say, there’s no stopping her.”
