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...
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The days that followed felt like a dream. Like Junak was the protagonist of a film and he was living the music sequence where everything was perfect.
He wasn't sure what exactly was happening between him and Dikhou - because nothing was happening, really - but it still felt amazing. They would laugh and talk during lunches, work together in Grandma's garden, stroll around the village side by side or spend long hours doing nothing by the riverside.
Nothing seemed to have changed - they would still bicker at times and Dikhou still carried that quirky, mischievous air around him. But at the same time, it felt different. Dikhou seemed different. In a good way, of course. The best way.
For one, he babied Junak. From random reminders to drink water to teaming up with him in the games and cheering him on to teaching him fun things like flicking stones in the water. One time, he randomly gave Junak a flower he found lying in the grass and maybe Junak did a bad job at hiding his joy because Dikhou chuckled and continued to keep giving him flowers.
It was very romantic, but it made it difficult for Junak to remind himself that it might not mean what he thought it meant. Dikhou was most probably straight and even if he wasn't, nothing could ever happen. They were from very different worlds.
Dikhou first opened up about his father when they were sitting under a tree and Junak asked him what his old man was like. He hesitated at first, but seemed to relax when Junak said, "I understand if you don't want to talk to me about him." And then Dikhou told him. Stories. Dozens many of them.
His father was a kind man, mostly shy so not very popular among the people, but fiercely loyal to those he called his own. He was a forest ranger but left the job because he got sick of all the corruption. He instead returned home to work on his own fields. He taught Dikhou all he knew about the earth, just as the two spent many nights sky-gazing.
Junak took it all in, revelling in borrowed memories of a wholesome family.
Dikhou's mother was... well, scary. Junak crossed paths with her a few times and each time she had her guard up; only nodding and returning curt greetings. He could understand where her dislike stemmed from, but there was an overwhelming desire in him to make things right with her so he would always volunteer to go over to give her things - Grandma would frequently send food and vegetables and stuff - or did his best to appear polite and modest.
Dikhou had laughed fondly at him because clearly, he could see through Junak's efforts of appearing saintly. It should've made Junak irritated, to be laughed at, but over the days he had simply grown to love Dikhou's laugh. It was a beautiful sound.
And speaking of beautiful sounds, turned out Dikhou could play the flute as well. As if he could not get hotter.
"What exactly are you doing?" Dikhou asked Junak who was lying on the ground on his back. He held his phone over his head, recording the sky that was a striking shade of light blue, a few white clouds rolling across lazily.
