Junak Baruah wants to win the prestigious short film competition in his university. But with hundreds of participants and a stellar jury on board, winning means making a film that's never been made before.
And that means breaking the rules and taki...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"It's day one and Niri is already mad at you."
Junak sighed, slouching further to rest his chin on his palm, elbow on his knees. He was sitting on a wooden bench in front of a small fire. Banhi sat next to him, wrapped in a shawl with a camera held in her hands.
When the sun dipped behind the horizon and darkness crept in, the servants pulled out chairs and benches from the house and arranged them in the backyard, around several small bonfires. The neighbours poured in soon after, filling the air with chatter, laughter and music.
"I knew you were scared of horror films," Banhi continued, her eyes on the camera screen that was focused on the fire crackling in front of them, "but I never knew you're actually scared of ghosts."
Their circle of fire was occupied by just the two of them. A farther away Junak's grandparents sat with other older people of the village. A larger fire was lit in front of them, bathing the ten or so people in orange. Niribili was sitting with the cooks, happily chatting and helping them out by cutting vegetables.
Junak hid his face in his palms and groaned. "Can you drop it already?" Somehow, the entire village had come to know about it – when the people greeted him and introduced themselves, they casually slid in a reminder that there were no ghosts in Nonrong, he need not worry. The sheer embarrassment of it made Junak want to leave and return to the city, but the promises of the Diamond Jury made him swallow his pride and stay put.
Of course, that did not mean he was going to forgive or forget the jerk who pranked him.
Even in the mere few hours that Junak had been there, he could tell his grandparents adored Dikhou. He was there the whole time, helping the servants set up the bonfires and chairs. He was their neighbour's son, but Grandpa and Grandma spoke to him like he was their grandson. "He's practically part of the family," Grandma had said when she found Junak fuming over the prank, "so consider him your older brother and don't take his mischief to heart, okay?"
Older brother, his ass! The farther away Dikhou stayed from Junak, the better it was.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Banhi threw an arm around Junak's shoulders and lightly shook him. "I'll help you prank Dikhou in return, how's that?"
She knew him too damn well. Junak smiled as he nodded and looked up.
She mirrored his smile. "Now stop sulking. We'll have to get to work from tomorrow, so enjoy the night." She clapped her hands. "I heard they make some great local alcohol here?"
Junak chuckled. "I know nothing about any local alcohol."
"Ugh." Banhi pursed her lips. "You're a terrible guide."
That was... true. He had spent all his life in faraway cities and, apart from occasionally meeting his grandparents when they visited, he knew nothing about the village his father was born and brought up in.
