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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"Come out, come out, whoever's home!" someone shouted at the top of their lungs.
Junak pulled the blanket closer to his body and tilted his head to peer out of the window. He was expecting... well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't Puhor pulling in a crowd of angry villagers.
Junak's blood ran cold at the sight of over a dozen men and women standing on the front lawn, their faces twisted in scorn. Among them, Junak spotted two of the guys – Long-Hair and Round-Face – and all the fear returned, cold and searing at the same time. He wanted to curl up in bed, plug his ears, close his eyes and pretend none of this was happening –
But then, Niribili, Dikhou and Grandma boldly stepped in front of the crowd and Junak nearly fell off the bed.
He hastily pulled on his cardigan, grabbed his phone and ran down the stairs. Priti and Banhi joined him on the way, their faces mirroring his fears.
"They are the ones who started it," Puhor was shouting as Junak reached the porch. He had freed himself from the two men who had dragged him there and stood beside Niribili, facing the mob.
"He beat up our son," a woman spit the words at Grandma. "Look. Look, how he ruined his face." It was Round-Face, his face bruised and bloody. He was grimacing in pain, but all Junak could see was the grin as he tried to push him off the rock...
Junak took a step back.
"Because he assaulted my brother," Puhor snapped.
His accusation resulted in an uproar in the crowd. A few people spotted Junak standing on the porch and a man with an almost bald head pointed a finger at him, "Where? He looks fine to me."
All eyes turned to Junak, making him flinch. He felt Banhi's fingers curl around his, acting like an anchor that kept him sane.
"Just because he looks okay does not mean they did not hurt him," Niribili said, her voice calmer than anyone else's.
"She's lying!" Long-Face cried. One of his eyes was swollen and he was bleeding from his nose. "They're all lying! We did nothing–"
"What is going on here?" came a new, yet familiar voice, cutting through the clamour like a knife on butter. Everyone grew silent as Dikhou's mother marched in, her tight-set expression oozing power and control. She came to stand beside Junak's grandmother, gently holding the old woman's elbow.
Three other people followed her – Lohor, Kopili and another woman Junak did not recognise. She had thick curly hair that fell around her shoulders and she wore a neat kurti over dark jeans. She stood beside Dikhou, crossed her arms over her chest and proceeded to scowl at the people.
"Baruah bor-ma's grandson," a man said, "barged into Madhab's house and beat our two boys black and blue. Unprovoked–"
