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...
There are prolly a gazillion typos, so holler when you spot an error, yeah?
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"So..." Banhi twirled a strand of hair between her fingers, "what are we going to do now?"
Junak pulled his legs closer to his chest and dropped his chin on his knees. His grandfather's warm shawl was wrapped around him like a blanket.
"I don't know," Niribili said from where she sat beside Banhi, her head resting on Banhi's shoulder. She looked tired, which was understandable after the day's events. "Gagori texted me saying she's out. So are her friends, which means we have no backup dancers and no choreography."
Junak's heart sunk lower, into the guilt swirling at the pit of his stomach.
"Shit," Prapti added helpfully. She and Megha were sitting on bamboo chairs opposite Junak. Between them and Banhi sat Puhor, legs propped up on a stool as he played some game on his phone.
A fire crackled at the centre of their circle. It was Grandma's idea to boost morale by having a nice evening near the fire. So far, morale had been boosted from zero to zero.
"Yeah, shit," Niribili muttered. Banhi threw an arm around her and pulled her closer to her side. Junak's heart ached a little. "We're fucked."
"What are you ladies talking about?" Puhor asked without looking up from his phone.
Junak did not acknowledge his question. Neither did Niribili and Banhi. Though no one had explicitly said anything, the guilt weighed heavily on Junak. He was the reason they were in this mess – well, he and Puhor were the reason they were in this mess, but the latter seemed the least bothered by it.
Megha was the one who answered. "The film we're supposed to shoot. We don't have the people anymore."
Puhor frowned. "Hire actors then. Aren't they always desperately looking for work? No offence," he added to Megha and Prapti who clearly looked offended.
"It's not an option," Banhi said quietly. "We've discussed it, it won't work."
Puhor lowered his phone then and glanced at the dejected people all around him. When his eyes landed on Junak, curled up on a chair, all pathetic and miserable, his expression softened with pity. "Maybe I can help? Make some calls? I know a lot of people – what?" he added when Junak shot him a glare. "I want to help."
Haven't you helped enough, Junak wanted to snap but he was... tired. All of it was anyway his fault, to begin with, not his brother's.
"Help with what?" Priti said, walking into the circle with a tray of cups. Trailing after her, was her daughter, Asha, and Junak's grandmother. "You all look so glum. You need to cheer up," she said, handing out the tea and pitha to everyone.
Junak cradled a cup in both hands and stared down at the light brown liquid. It reminded him of the tea Dikhou used to make –
No. He needed to get over him, and this line of thinking would not help.
