Never Have I Ever (2020) s01e04 Episode Script

1
It had been a week
since Devi's violent
encounter with the coyote,
but Paxton's words from the hospital
were still echoing in her mind.
That's why it's cool we're friends.
Of course he had friendzoned her.
She thought a wild animal was her dad.
As much as Devi wanted to be a chill
girl that you could have sex with,
she knew the truth:
she was a weird loser,
and a member of the UN,
and today was certainly
not gonna change that.
Are you Princess Jasmine?
No, but thank you.
She is very beautiful.
Ariel's prettier.
Where's Aladdin?
I don't have an Aladdin,
because he just wants to be friends.
Okay
Hi. Can I have two black coffees
and one large hot chocolate?
But can you write latte on the cup?
I want people to take me seriously.
Oh, can my daughter take a photo
with you? You look so amazing.
No, thanks.
She'd really love to
put it on her Instagram.
It's so cultural.
I don't really feel at home right
now in my choice of clothing.
I mean, usually I don't,
but especially today.
She's just a little girl.
Okay, sir, you don't
have to say it like that.
I just don't want to take a photo.
Also, why do we have to commemorate
everything on social media?
Hmm? Why can't we just
live in the moment?
You were on Twitter the
entire time you were in line.
You tweeted a "thank you" to a Target ad
telling you to have a happy Labor Day.
- Fine. Let's just take the photo.
- Go.
Okay.
You want any doughnuts with that?
Yeah, Ira, I do, but I'm fasting today.
Oh.
Is it Ramadan?
No, it's not, Ira.
Today is Ganesh Puja.
Looks like an ad for India, right?
Or at least the middle of an
Indiana Jones movie, but it's not.
This is Ganesh Puja, baby.
Ganesh Puja is a Hindu holiday
celebrating Lord Ganesh,
and a time to share
warm moments with family.
Speaking of warm moments with family,
let's check in with the Vishwakumars.
Mom, this sari is so uncomfortable.
Why does it itch so much?
Itchiness of saris is a rite
of passage for Indian women.
Deal with it.
Why can't I just wear kurta
and jeans like I normally do?
Then I don't have to get half naked
every time I need to go to the bathroom.
Devi, you're of age now.
Half sari is more appropriate.
Ew, Mom. Don't say "of age."
It makes me sound like a
girl in a douche commercial.
- What is douche?
- OK, everyone stop talking about douche.
Lord Ganesh doesn't
need to see my daughter
in ripped jeans and a
"Fries Before Guys" t-shirt.
Nalini was a little on edge.
This was the first puja they had gone to
since Mohan's untimely
death and Devi's paralysis.
Last week, Mrs. Iyengar asked if
we were going to show up at puja,
or whether we, quote,
"had too much going on."
I could just hear the pity in her voice.
Too much going on, for
Ganesh Puja? That bitch.
- Whoa.
- Auntie, you must calm down.
Why does the Hindu Association
have to have puja at my high school?
It's so low-rent.
Ben Gross's bar mitzvah
was at the Dolby Theatre.
They have the Oscars there.
Jewish people know how to save.
Us, Indians, we get
a little bit of money,
we go straight to Home Depot
to buy a cement fountain.
We're just obsessed with fountains.
Oh, I love a fountain.
Anyway, Devi,
you know Sanchiti Bhattacharyya
will be at puja, right?
You remember her useless
white husband Ron?
Turns out, he's not
that useless after all.
He runs the most exclusive
college counseling company in LA.
Ninety percent of their
kids get into Ivy Leagues.
And they are so elite,
they don't even count
Cornell and Penn as Ivies.
He's so successful,
he has his own Tesla.
I Zillow-ed his house.
Do you want to know
what the Zestimate was?
One point eight million dollars!
- Whoa. He loaded.
- Yes, he is.
Now, Ron doesn't take many kids, so
if you want to go to Princeton,
you know what you need to do.
I'm on it, Mom.
Winning over old-ass teacher
types is my super power.
Good girl.
Oh, God. Aunties approaching.
Don't look.
Where? Where should I not look?
Damn it, Kamala.
Aunties are older Indian women
who have no blood relationship to you,
but are allowed to have opinions
about your life and
all your shortcomings.
You have to be nice to
them because you're Indian.
It's so good to see you, and Devi,
what a relief to see
you're no longer a cripple.
What a miracle.
I prayed for her every day.
I said, "No matter why you
have chosen to curse them,
please cure her as a
reward for my virtue."
Thank you. I'm sure your prayers did it.
Yes. Thank you for thinking
of us. How is Arjun?
You know Arjun. He just
installed a home theater.
Two rows of seats.
Dolby 5,1 surround sound.
Popcorn machine coming soon.
Sunu, they don't care about
your stupid home theater
with all they've been through.
I know exactly how you feel.
My husband, Pradeep,
had testicular cancer.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
Oh, no. He's fine.
It was stage one. They caught it early,
removed his testicle, and
now he's running the 10K.
You're right. Our
situations are so similar.
Uh, you know my niece, Kamala, right?
Getting her doctorate at
Caltech, soon to be engaged
to an engineer.
The boy's parents have two Mercedes.
- Two Mercedes?
- Lucky.
As the aunties praised her,
Kamala had a sinking feeling.
She didn't want to get married,
but she put on a happy face
like I did at the trophy ceremony
when I lost the French
Open to Ivan Lendl in 1984.
I'm gonna go find Ron.
Okay. I'll just stay
here and kill myself.
Even though Devi was Indian,
she didn't think of herself as
Indian Indian like these girls,
which is a whole other thing.
So sometimes she felt
a little out of place.
They seem cool here,
but can you imagine how dorky they
would look doing this anywhere else?
That's my sister, Preethi.
Her Bollywood dance group
was in the Macy's Day Parade
on a float sponsored by Ziploc.
So who looks dorky now?
Damn, Devi.
Preethi's sister really
schooled you. Read the room.
- Harish.
- Devi, hey.
I was hoping I'd see someone cool here.
Do you know if anyone
like that is coming?
Ouch, burn.
So why are you at this lame-fest?
Shouldn't you be at Stanford, like,
playing frisbee with a computer?
I actually really wanted to come.
To Ganesh Puja?
At a public high school in
the Valley? Are you insane?
Tell me the truth. Did they
send you home on medical leave?
Are you suicidal from Accutane?
No.
Look, I know I used to
clown on this every year,
but the truth is, I kinda miss puja.
Are you kidding?
When I get into Princeton,
I'm never coming back.
I'm gonna be an atheist, who
eats cheeseburgers every day
with my white boyfriend.
I thought I'd be that way too,
but it was different
when I went to college.
My roommate, Nick, is Native American,
and he's so into being Native American.
At first, I was like, "You're
away from your parents.
You don't have to pretend to care
about your ancestry or whatever."
But then he took me
to their campus powwow.
No one was standing in the
corner making fun of it.
They were dancing and chanting,
and having a great time,
and it made me think,
"Why do I think it's so weird
and embarrassing to be Indian?"
Where do I start?
How about every single thing
my mom has ever said and done?
I just thought, "Am I gonna
be this insecure Indian guy,
who hates doing Indian things?"
'Cause that's its own identity.
It's just a shitty one.
Well, that's definitely not my identity.
I love being Indian.
Real convincing, Devi.
I look more comfortable being Indian.
You need to spread Mohan's ashes.
I spread my mother's in the
fountain at the Bellagio.
She was a gambling addict.
That's very touching, um
I just haven't had the time.
You know he cannot get into
heaven until you accept his death?
Oh.
I meant to ask you. Later today,
you think you can look
at a few skin tags?
They're under my left breast.
I'm really looking forward to it. Yeah.
I'll find you later.
This is Pandit Rajakrishnan,
but everyone calls him Pandit Raj.
He's the community spiritual leader
and also really knows
how to work a room.
Now, everybody repeat after me.
Just kidding. We'll do something easier.
I like Pandit Raj.
He's got a good energy.
Come forward.
Have you spoken to Ron yet?
I've spent all morning
kissing up to Sanchiti.
I even told her I would
Botox her armpits for free.
Not yet. I can't find him.
You can't find the one
middle-aged white man
in a group of 500 Indian people?
Come forward. We are
ready for the next group.
- Give it to Pandit Raj.
- Nalini.
Thank you.
Pray you get into Princeton.
Don't waste your prayers on
stupid things like world peace.
Praying had always been hard for Devi.
It was so easy to get distracted.
First, she would start praying for
the health of her mom and cousin,
but then would veer off,
thinking about homework,
or how in this kneeling position,
she could smell her deodorant.
So she really had to
focus on what she wanted:
an acceptance letter from
the college of her dreams
Princeton!
a sudden maturing in
certain areas of her body
Hey.
unexpected overtures from
certain people at school
I think I love you.
and hearing her mother say
the thing she most longed for.
I'm so proud of you.
And you can get your septum pierced.
But this year was different.
She didn't want her usual things.
Don't miss.
Ah!
In your face.
She wanted something else.
Have tika.
Meanwhile, Kamala knew what
exactly she was praying for.
For her fiancé, Prashant,
to fall in love with someone
in his doctorate program
at the University of Chicago,
and for their engagement to be over.
You do not wish to be married?
Damn, Pandit Raj. That's
spooky as hell. You're good.
Your hair is so black.
When my sister's husband died,
she stopped coloring her hair.
Well, I didn't want to
let myself go completely.
Mohan wouldn't have wanted that.
You just don't want to
give people the wrong idea.
What idea? That I love my husband
less because my roots aren't showing?
Let's go inside.
I heard Roopa got fat.
Bingo! White guy. College counselor Ron.
Go get him, Devi.
Hey, are you Ron Hansen-Bhattacharyya?
Yes.
It's so nice to meet you.
My name is Devi Vishwakumar.
I'm a student at this
high school, actually.
Oh, cool.
Sherman Oaks High is a
good Ivy feeder school.
Although the college
counselor Susan is a joke.
Yeah. She's also the lunch lady.
- So, she's got a lot on her plate.
- Hmm.
I just wanted to say how interested
I would be in procuring your services.
Your stats are amazing.
Well, I don't know. I mean, I
only got 28 kids into Ivies
last year, but I wanted 30.
The other two went to MIT,
but you can't win 'em all.
Well, I guess I can't relate
because I do win 'em all.
I'm in all AP classes and got
a perfect score on my PSAT.
Great segue, Devi. Effortless.
All while volunteering at
the kidney dialysis center.
When I'm not doing that,
I read Vietnam vets
their Bill O'Reilly books.
Okay, look I can say this
because I married an Indian woman
and am a proud member of
this vibrant community.
But schools don't want
another Indian try-hard,
who is president of
the padded resume club.
What? Renal failure is
what keeps me up at night.
Colleges want kids with unusual stories.
I had this kid.
He got into a car crash. He
was dead a full 30 seconds.
He said God told him to
go to Yale. It worked.
Uh, I outgrew a nut
allergy, so that's something.
- I actually know who you are.
- You do?
You're the girl whose dad died
in front of her at a concert
and became paralyzed.
Devi couldn't believe that
the major trauma of her life
could be reduced to a single
sentence, but there it was.
Yeah. What about it?
That story is freaking amazing.
You have the golden ticket. If
you're willing to talk about it,
I bet I can get you
into any school you want.
But Devi didn't want to use
the story of her father's death
as a way to make
herself more interesting
to a bunch of admission committees.
No, I'm not gonna do that.
Well, without it, I
don't get your angle.
To be honest, I don't see
how you would be different
than any other Indian
kid applying to college.
I'm not like any other Indian kid,
and I'm not interesting
just because my dad died.
Then what makes you interesting?
Oh, I don't know, Ron.
Maybe it's my perfect grades
or my killer test scores.
Or maybe it's my bitchin' personality
or my insane PowerPoint skills.
I don't need some washed-up
white dude, who leases a Tesla
telling me what makes me special.
Leasing is still a financial commitment!
And my monthly payment is quite high!
Oh, look, an open table.
No, no. Come, come.
Hey, kids, move.
Just take your slime and go.
Come on. People are still eating.
Why could we not sit there?
That's Jaya Kuyavar.
She came from Chennai, went
to UCLA for her doctorate,
parents found her a nice
boy back home to marry.
Then she ran off with an American man.
A Muslim.
Parents never spoke to her again.
Did they come for the wedding?
Are you out of your mind? You
heard me say he was a Muslim.
I feel bad for her.
- We should sit with her.
- Mm-mm.
Can't risk it right now.
We're already borderline outcasts.
Devi, what did you do?
I heard from half a dozen aunties
that you yelled at
college counselor Ron,
and made fum of his electric car!
He deserved it.
He said I'm just like any other
Indian kid applying to college.
It was so offensive!
So disappointed in you.
- I'm gonna eat somewhere else.
- Please go.
Is this yours?
- Oh, thank you so much!
- Yeah.
You left it on the table.
The table you were sitting
at after you and your aunt
made a beeline to get away from me.
No, we weren't trying to avoid you.
You seemed so popular,
we didn't want to take
up seats for your friends.
Oh.
Sure.
Hey, um I need a
break from these aunties.
You want to go check out the
vending machines? My treat?
Okay.
Yeah, so basically, I'm the Hester
Prynne of the Indian community
in the San Fernando Valley.
I wish I had a less
ninth-grade-book analogy for it,
but it's accurate.
So you're ultimately very
happy with your decision
even though you got divorced?
Of course not.
No. I mean look at me.
My closest Indian friend is a
woman I met seven minutes ago.
No. I wish I had just
listened to my family
and married the guy that they chose.
Then maybe I wouldn't be divorced.
You know, my kids ask
about their grandparents,
and I don't know what to tell them.
Maybe they'll get over it.
Do you have a sibling, who
could have a drug problem
or go to community
college? That would help.
No, I got two brothers,
both neurosurgeons,
had a double-arranged wedding
with millionaire Hindu sisters.
Oh.
As my cousin would say,
"That sucks a fat one."
Yeah, I agree.
Anyway, I think I'm going to head out.
You know, these things
aren't really that fun
when everyone is whispering about you.
But hey, good luck on your engagement
and don't screw it up, yeah?
Devi?
Paxton! What are you doing here?
Swim practice. What are you doing here?
Just Ganesh Puja.
It's a weird Indian thing.
Oh.
What do you do for it?
We eat and pray to Ganesh.
He's the elephant God.
He's sort of a big deal to Indians.
I mean Hindus.
'Cause, you know, there are Muslim
Indians, Sikh Indians, Jains, and
- Honestly
- You don't have to give me
the Wikipedia page on India.
Sorry.
So is part of Ganesh Puja
kicking lockers in anger?
No, that was unrelated.
That didn't have
You were joking.
No, I just got mad, which
is something I'm working on.
You do have kind of a temper, huh?
It's not my fault.
Some old loser was telling
me that I'm too Indian,
and some other people
think I'm not Indian enough.
And honestly, all I want
to do is eat a doughnut,
but I'm stuck here.
Eh. Who cares what other people think?
You do you, Vishwakumar.
Also, you look cool in that outfit.
Did he just say she looked good?
Holy shit. Maybe she wasn't
as friendzoned as she thought.
Okay. I've had my fill of socializing.
- Are you ready to head home?
- Yeah.
- You see Devi anywhere?
- I do not.
Perhaps she's gotten her arms stuck
in the vending machine
trying to steal chips.
It's happened before.
I'll go check.
- Nalini.
- Yes?
Are you leaving?
Ah, yes. I think it's that time.
It was so great to see
you out of the house
- and Devi back on her feet.
- Thank you.
Let me know if she stops walking again,
because I have a cousin in medical sales
who can get you a very
nice wheelchair for cheap.
Hello, ladies.
- Namaste, Pandit
Raj. - Hello, Pandit-ji
Would one of you be
able to give me a ride?
The day had been a long one for Nalini,
and she needed a win,
even if it was a small one.
I can.
Oh, wonderful. Could you
take me to The Home Depot?
It would be my pleasure.
Great. There's a beautiful
fountain I've had my eye on.
This is very kind of you.
I could've taken an Uber.
Our Pandit in an Uber?
What's next? Prime
Minister Modi on Postmates?
Over my dead body.
I really enjoyed puja today.
I like the incense you used.
It was like we were in a cannabis store.
Thank you. You can
buy it on my website
coolhindude.com
Anyhow, I hope you all found some
clarity in your prayers today.
For sure. One hundred percent.
Very much so, Pandit-ji.
Wonderful.
Thanks for the ride.
I found the car very comfortable.
Our pleasure, Pandit-ji.
Though there is pain,
the pain will subside
because you are a good family.
And God will always see that.
Where do you want to go to college?
- Princeton.
- I will bring it up to God personally.
Thanks for the ride. Go, Lakers!