“Mindy Kaling,” Natasha and Karan say in unison.

“Oh, she’s done thinking about all that,” Mom says with a wave of her hand, as if Natasha’s childhood dream is an unpleasant smell.

“Actually, she’s not even just thinking about it anymore,” Karan says. “In a couple of weeks, she’ll be compet—”

“Karan, no.” Natasha kicks his foot under the table.

Luckily, both of their moms are too distracted by Priyanka Chopra’s Instagram feed to notice the conversation cutting off. Mom shows Priyanka’s latest selfie to Anita Auntie as they both nod approvingly at her eye makeup.

There’s no way they can know about Natasha’s upcoming comedy competition. In just two weeks, she’ll join twelve other aspiring stand-up comedians at the Midtown Comedy Center’s Comedy Competition. The top four will be selected by a panel of judges and move on to the next round. The winner gets a standing open mic spot at Midtown Comedy Center. As if preparing a routine wasn’t mind-wrecking enough, the venue also required each comedian to hand out fifty flyers in order to guarantee a slot. Natasha and Karan had spent three boring hours at Lenox Mall trying to get people to take a hot-pink paper that read come to stand-up comedy competition night! Only ten flyers were distributed and Natasha saw someone use theirs as a place to spit out their gum.

“What were we talking about? Oh right, Natasha is at a real job now, which is good.” Mom darkens her phone screen and widens her large, almond-shaped eyes. “You know, we had to grow up so quickly, coming to America and all. So many things we weren’t able to do or think about, so our kids would have a better life. And now they’ve realized they need to grow up, too.”

Oh, Mom and the two rituals from India she refuses to part with: kohl eyeliner and guilt-tripping.

Suhani’s high-pitched voice echoes through the house. “Hel-lo!”

Thank God, Natasha thinks. Suhani and Zack are here, which means Natasha has a chance to escape.

“They’re here!” Dad says with an enthusiasm that’s always been just for Suhani but has recently heightened now that they’re both officially psychiatrists. She’s his star now. In his field. She’s even a third-year resident at his hospital.

Zack enters the dining room holding a bottle of Prosecco, which he hands straight to Natasha. His brown wavy hair is brushed to one side, which makes him look even more like Andy Samberg than usual. He isn’t conventionally hot, but from the first time Suhani brought him home, Natasha could see how his easygoing attitude, sense of humor, and polished-but-not-trying-too-hard style gave him a level of sex appeal.

“Hey, you,” he says as he gives Natasha a warm hug.

“Hey, I need a nap already,” Natasha says.