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...
These past couple of days (or is it weeks? idk anymore) haven't been easy. Lockdown's really taking a toll, tho I try to deny it by drowning myself in books and shows but ugh, idk everything feels hopeless and useless and this book is the only thing that's keeping me sane rn and for that I have y'all to thank (it's prolly unhealthy how much I look forward to your comments)
*sigh*
I'm randomly dropping this a/n here for my future self lol so don't worry, keep scrolling down and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Oh also, you know the drill, yeah? Holler for errors!
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Half a dozen books and notebooks were lying discarded on the table as Dikhou sat with his chin rested on his palm, elbow on the armrest, gazing out of the open window.
It was well past midnight. The village was quiet and dark. A sliver of crescent moon hung in the sky, surrounded by a sea of stars. Owls hooted, fireflies gleamed and an occasional breeze wafted in, brushing against Dikhou.
Nights were his favourite; had been for as long as he could remember. As a kid, he and his father used to spend many a night sitting outside, counting stars. After his death, the night sky became one of the only things that made Dikhou feel closer to his father. The moon, the beautiful, magnificent moon, in all its shapes, could calm him down even on his worst days, and the quiet of a sleeping world was the most beautiful music he had ever heard. There was also a kind of freedom hidden in the dark. Here, with no one watching, he could take off the mask and breathe easier.
Tonight, his thoughts were a muddled mess of dangerous ideas. Dikhou had spent the better part of the night - after his mother and sister had gone to sleep - googling all that he had learnt from Junak. At first, things did not make sense. And then they did. A little too much for his comfort.
So, at around one o'clock, when his phone rang, flashing brightly in the otherwise dark room, he knew how the conversation was going to go. And he dreaded it as much as he wanted it.
"Weren't sleeping, were you?" came a soft voice from the other end, crisp, clear and wide awake.
"No." Dikhou leaned back on his chair, letting out a deep sigh. "You're late. Almost thought you wouldn't call."
The woman let out a weak groan. "Got caught up with some work. But my break's started now, so I'm all yours for the next twenty minutes."
Dikhou smiled. It was routine for him and his sister to call each other at the dead of the night; a routine the rest of their family members did not understand.
"So," Jiri said, "how was your day?"
There it was, his opening. He only needed to take the wild leap and ask. He knew he wanted to. The desire was like an itch under his skin.
