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 thing about falling for someone was that, at the time, it made you feel invincible. That you and your feelings could take on the whole world and sagas would perhaps be written about it one day. It was a kind of high.
And highs were, at the end of the day, drug-induced illusions that ended. They crashed and shattered.
Dikhou felt crashed and shattered. Hollowed out. Tired. And stupid. All at the same time.
And to make matters worse, Kopili cheerfully announced, "Jiri-ba is coming today." She might as well have said: game over, you idiot.
Jiri hadn't spoken to him since their argument at her house. She hadn't even replied to his apology-texts. Dikhou thought she would come around in time, but physically visiting the village, out of the blue, could only mean trouble.
In an effort to clear his head, Dikhou stepped out of the house and noticed an SUV in his neighbour's front yard, parked next to Junak's car.
"Puhor is here," Dikhou's mother said from where she was sitting on the porch, reading a book.
"Puhor?"
"Niyor's eldest."
Right. Him. Flashes from a night Dikhou desperately wanted to forget returned to him and all he could do was gulp them down and walk away before his mother noticed any suspicious changes in his behaviour.
It had been hard, these last few days. He did his best to avoid Junak but with them being neighbours and Baruah koka being in the hospital, it was inevitable that they crossed paths. And it felt like a dagger was plunged into his heart each damn time.
"Motherfucking assholes-"
Dikhou froze, in the middle of the street, and turned around just in time to see Junak's elder brother marching towards him.
Puhor had the same light skin, softly arched eyes and long nose as Junak but that was where the similarities ended. Unlike Junak, Puhor was huge - towered over Dikhou with a few inches - and had the build of a guy who regularly hit the gym and... hit other things. His hair was long and tied back in a bun.
Puhor was cursing non-stop, but thankfully, not at Dikhou. In fact, he almost walked past him but then stopped as recognition flashed through his eyes.
"You!" he barked. His face was matted with an ugly scowl, his anger practically radiating off of him. "It's you, right?"
Dikhou wasn't sure if Puhor was going to punch him or out him, but he would take the former if given a choice. "Please don't tell anyone," he blurted, eyeing their surroundings. Thankfully, it was a little past noon so no one was out and about.
"Why will I - dude. I'm not going to - whatever. I don't have time for this." Puhor was restless on his feet. "I'm gonna go beat some guys to an inch of their lives. You coming?"
