Bollywood in the Rain

1 - New Beginnings

The constant drizzle of the Pacific Northwest was a stark contrast to the bustling streets of Mumbai. Shyam Shah stood at the entrance of Lakeside High School, clutching his backpack tightly, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation. His heart raced as he took in the sight of the imposing brick building surrounded by lush greenery, a far cry from the urban jungle he had left behind.

"Hey, Shyam!" a familiar voice called out, breaking him from his reverie. He turned to see Jhanvi, his cousin and the only person he knew in this new world, waving enthusiastically.

"Jhanvi," he breathed, relieved to see a friendly face. She bounded over, her dark hair bouncing with each step, her smile as bright as ever.

"Ready for your first day?" she asked, linking her arm with his. "Don't worry, you'll do great. Everyone here is really nice."

Shyam nodded, though he wasn't entirely convinced. Being the new kid was never easy, and being the openly gay new kid from a different country added another layer of complexity. But he had no choice but to face it head-on.

As they walked through the hallways, Jhanvi pointed out various landmarks – the library, the cafeteria, the gymnasium. Shyam tried to keep up, but his mind was racing with thoughts of how he would fit in, whether he would make friends, and if anyone would understand his love for Bollywood movies and music.

"This place is huge," Shyam murmured, his eyes wide as he took in the bustling activity around him. Students hurried to their classes, chatting and laughing, completely at ease in their environment. Shyam felt a pang of longing for the familiarity of his old school, where he knew every corner and every face.

Jhanvi gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. "You'll get used to it. And hey, you have me. We'll get through this together."

Shyam offered her a small smile, grateful for her support. "Thanks, Jhanvi. I don't know what I'd do without you."

They continued their tour, with Jhanvi pointing out the different cliques that dominated the social landscape of the school. "Over there are the jocks," she said, nodding towards a group of tall, athletic boys who were playfully shoving each other. "And those are the drama kids," she added, gesturing to a group of students animatedly discussing their latest play.

Shyam couldn't help but feel intimidated by the sheer diversity and energy of his new school. Back in Mumbai, he had his small circle of friends who shared his love for Bollywood and books. Here, he felt like a fish out of water.

"And this," Jhanvi said, stopping in front of a classroom, "is your homeroom. Mr. Thompson is pretty chill. You'll like him."

Shyam took a deep breath and stepped inside, feeling the weight of a hundred eyes on him. Mr. Thompson, a middle-aged man with a kind face, looked up from his desk and smiled.

"Ah, you must be Shyam. Welcome," he said warmly. "Why don't you introduce yourself to the class?"

Shyam's mouth went dry as he turned to face his new classmates. "Hi, I'm Shyam Shah," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just moved here from Mumbai."

A few murmurs of interest rippled through the room, but most students seemed more interested in their phones or conversations with friends. Shyam quickly took a seat at the back, hoping to blend in.

As the morning classes went by, Shyam found himself struggling to keep up. The curriculum was different, and he felt a step behind in every subject. His teachers were understanding, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider.

During math class, Shyam's mind wandered back to Mumbai. He missed the smell of street food, the vibrant colors of the city, and most of all, his friends. They used to spend hours watching Bollywood movies and discussing the latest releases. Here, he felt like no one would understand his passion.

By the time lunch rolled around, Shyam was exhausted. He found a quiet corner in the cafeteria and pulled out a book, hoping to lose himself in the familiar comfort of words. But before he could even open it, a shadow fell over his table.

"Mind if I join you?" a deep voice asked. Shyam looked up to see a tall, athletic boy with short, stylish hair and sharp features standing there, holding a tray of food.

"Uh, sure," Shyam stammered, taken aback by the boy's presence.

"Thanks," the boy said, sitting down. "I'm Shivam Patel. Jhanvi mentioned you were new and could use a friend."

Shyam's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, she did, did she?" he said, shooting a glance at his cousin, who was grinning at them from across the cafeteria.

"Yeah," Shivam replied with a chuckle. "She's pretty persistent. So, what brings you to our rainy corner of the world?"

Shyam hesitated for a moment before answering. "My dad got a job here, so we all moved. It's...a lot to take in."

"I can imagine," Shivam said, nodding. "But hey, it's not all bad. We have good food, decent people, and if you're into it, Bollywood movies on weekends at the Patel house."

Shyam's eyes lit up at the mention of Bollywood. "Really? You like Bollywood movies?"

Shivam shrugged, a playful smile on his lips. "They're not my usual go-to, but my mom loves them. I've picked up a thing or two. Plus, they're great for family bonding."

For the first time that day, Shyam felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a place for himself here. And with Shivam's easygoing nature and Jhanvi's unwavering support, he felt like he might be able to navigate this new world after all.

As they continued to talk, Shyam learned more about Shivam. He was a star player on the ice hockey team, popular and well-liked by everyone. But despite his confident exterior, there was something genuine and kind about him that put Shyam at ease.

"So, what do you do for fun, besides watching movies?" Shivam asked, taking a bite of his sandwich.

Shyam hesitated, unsure if his hobbies would sound boring to someone like Shivam. "I read a lot," he admitted. "And I write poetry sometimes."

"Really? That's cool," Shivam said, genuinely interested. "What kind of poetry?"

"Mostly in Hindi," Shyam replied, feeling a bit shy. "It's a way for me to stay connected to home."

Shivam nodded thoughtfully. "I'd love to hear some of it sometime."

Shyam smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him. "Maybe. If you're not too busy with your hockey games."

Shivam laughed. "I think I can make time for some poetry. Besides, it's good to try new things, right?"

Shyam nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie he hadn't expected. Maybe this new place wouldn't be so bad after all.

The rest of the day passed more smoothly, with Shyam feeling buoyed by his new connection with Shivam. He even managed to answer a question correctly in history class, earning an approving nod from the teacher.

After school, Shyam and Jhanvi walked home together. The rain had finally stopped, leaving the air crisp and fresh. Shyam felt lighter, his earlier apprehension melting away.

"How was your first day?" Jhanvi asked, her eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Better than I expected," Shyam admitted. "Thanks for introducing me to Shivam. He's really nice."

Jhanvi smiled knowingly. "I had a feeling you two would get along. He's a great guy."

As they approached their neighborhood, Shyam felt a sense of belonging he hadn't anticipated. Maybe it was the familiarity of Jhanvi's presence, or the budding friendship with Shivam, but he felt hopeful for the first time since arriving.

That evening, as Shyam settled into his new room, he pulled out his journal and began to write. The words flowed easily, capturing the mix of emotions he had experienced throughout the day. He wrote about the rain, the new faces, and the unexpected kindness of a stranger who might just become a friend.

As he wrote, he felt a connection to his past and his future, a bridge between Mumbai and the Pacific Northwest. The rain outside his window seemed to whisper promises of new beginnings, and Shyam found himself believing in them.