“There are countless relationships that are based on love that last the test of time,” Kareena said evenly. “Don’t you have people in your life that love you? I bet there is a woman who left—”
The heat in his expression iced over from one blink to the next. He stepped back and motioned for the producers. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Rina, but like I said, I had an emergency call. And thank god, because we would’ve had more regrets than we do now.” He turned to the nearest person with a headset. “Can we please get security to take this woman out of the studio? Some of us have work to do. Work based on fucking science. Bindu, if she’s with you, you can go with her, or stay.”
“Running away just like you did last time,” Kareena said. She motioned for her sister to follow her out, but Bindu was already shaking her head.
“I’m so sorry about her unprofessionalism, Dr. Verma.”
“Bindu.” The knife that Dr. Dil had shoved into her chest was only twisted and pushed in harder by her sister’s insensitivity. Bindu turned her back on Kareena and walked onto the stage.
Kareena looked around, and for the first time since she opened her mouth, she felt embarrassment from the whole experience. It was like a double dose of shame and humiliation, and both at the hands of this desi fuckboy.
“Fine, then!” she snapped, holding her chin up by sheer determination. “But just remember that you benefit from the parts of our culture that are oppressive. Which is why you hit on women and promise love and romance, when in actuality, you’re just another asshole.”
She stormed over to her seat to pick up her clutch and her Pedialyte. As she turned away from the pitying, horrified expressions of everyone in the studio, rage began to consume her.
How dare he? How dare everyone?
She uncapped her Pedialyte and in a moment of spontaneity, tossed it at Dr. Dil like a grenade.
A collective shriek filled the room.
“And that’s for ruining my sweater vest, fuckboy!”
Interstitial
Indians Abroad News
Dr. Prem Verma, a cardiologist and host of the TV talk show The Dr. Dil Show on Jersey City’s South Asians News Network, found himself in a very public argument during a commercial break last weekend
when a woman named Kareena accused him of making promises of love and romance in his personal life while also preaching unorthodox
views on love marriages. Dr. Verma is a health-care advocate for the South Asian community working toward building a clinic
supporting South Asians in Jersey City. However, many residents in the area aren’t too pleased with the altercation aired
on the Mann Your Business YouTube channel by his guest, Bindu Mann.
Chapter Five
Prem
Prem rubbed at the tension in his temples as he collapsed on the edge of his bed to unlace his shoes. It took him a few minutes before he was able to get back up and stack them in his closet. His suit coat went next, along with his tie and slacks. Whatever needed to be dry-cleaned was put in a separate wicker basket, which he’d have to remember to drop off on Saturday.
He’d never looked forward to something so mundane as dry cleaning before.
After dressing in athletic shorts and a Columbia T-shirt, he walked through his apartment to the kitchen. He immediately headed toward the corner cabinet, where he took out the ibuprofen bottle and swallowed three pills dry.
Regretting his life choices, Prem called out to his smart home device. “Google, play Dudes’ Night playlist.”
“Playing Dudes’ Night,” Google replied.
Taylor Swift’s album Reputation slipped through his wall speakers, filling the open space up through the exposed beams and ducts.
After one of the worst weeks he’d had since Gori’s death, a night with his friends was exactly what the doctor ordered. He’d been twisted up inside for so long that this was hopefully going to be the release he needed.
“Sometimes I think that we, as the first ones born in the U.S., feel so much pressure to excel because our parents don’t know if their intercontinental move was successful until we are successful,” Kareena said. “We are the reward to their sacrifice.”
Prem nodded, fascinated by the way the dim lights at the bar flickered over her face. “I think that’s why we’re so forgiving when they push us, too.”
“Do your parents push you toward their dreams, or are you doing what you want, Prem Verma?”
“Soon,” he said. “Hopefully, I will be soon.”
Prem bristled with anger all over again. How could he have a life-altering conversation with a woman, a woman who he felt so connected to for the first time in . . . well, in ever, who would turn out to be the same person to throw a bottle of Pedialyte at him the next day at his studio?