Silently Falling in Love: Race (THE EDITED VERSION)

Chapter 5 - Diwali

Anjali November 1989

I hung up the phone after speaking to my parents. I sat on my bed, content that my roommate was out. It was hard to get any alone time when you shared such a small room with another person. At home, I had my own room and loved having my privacy. I missed my privacy.

I missed home too. Sick of dorm food, what I wouldn't do for a plate of mom's food. I'd even eat bindi (okra) right now.

My privacy was short lived as I heard a knock at my door.

"Come in." I wiped away the tears to avoid being caught crying.

"Hey, it's me," Arjun whispered as he pushed open the door.

I must not have wiped the tears away quickly enough because within seconds he rushed to me, "What's wrong? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Everything is okay," I smiled as I stood up.

"Liar," was all Arjun said as he looked into my eyes and waited for me to respond.

I looked away from his intense stare and confessed, "I'm homesick, that's all."

Arjun laughed. "Well then, I have just the remedy for you." He pulled my hand and made me sit back down on the bed. He pulled a package out of a bag and unwrapped it; "I thought I'd share homemade paratha with you. My mom dropped them off," he said as he tore off a piece and held it up to my mouth.

I took the paratha from his fingers and took a bite. I chewed savoring the soft bread filled with mashed up potatoes. The homemade food brought a flood of tears I couldn't hold back.

"Anjali," Arjun said as he put his arms around me. "I didn't know paratha could make someone cry. If I'd known you would cry, I would have eaten all of them myself," Arjun teased.

"The paratha made me more homesick," I sobbed, "and I'm missing Diwali. I've never been away from home for Diwali." I placed my head in my hands.

"That can be remedied. Come home with me for Diwali," Arjun said.

"I can come home with you?" I asked wiping the tears off my cheeks.

"You can come home with me. My parents will be delighted," Arjun said.

"Can I have some paratha too?" I asked, smiling through the tears.

"Only if you promise not to cry while you eat," he said as he handed me the foil-wrapped package of parathas.

I tore another piece of paratha and shoved it into my mouth. "You know what?"

"You want raita with those parathas? Cause I wished my mom had packed a container of raita with them. They're kind of dry without the yogurt," Arjun said with such a sweet smile.

"That's not what I was going to say, but you're right, some raita would have gone well. And while we're making requests, mango achar (pickle) would be good too. That would have made these parathas out of this world. But you're distracting me..."

"I think that's the point, so you don't cry on me again," he teased.

He made me laugh again. "No silly, what I wanted to say is your mom makes awesome paratha. These are better than my moms and your mom's not even Indian. But, please if, you ever meet my mother never tell her that," I giggled.

"Okay, I'll never tell your mom that my mom's parathas are better than hers, unless I need to blackmail you for something."

I punched Arjun but held on to the package of parathas.