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...
Time isn't linear btw, so don't forget to check the header/chapter titles.
Also lemme know if this gets confusing or something.
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Junak fidgeted with his bracelet – a silver chain, with two typewriter keys dangling from it – as he waited for the call to connect.
The first thing on the screen was a nose, followed by a finger.
"God, Jatin, move back!" Junak laughed.
"Wait, I'm trying to balance the phone," came a familiar voice from several thousand kilometres away. "It keeps falling."
"Prop it against a bottle or a wall or something."
"I'm trying!"
From across Junak's small bedroom cluttered with clothes and shooting equipment, Niribili asked, "Did it connect?"
"Yup, come on."
By the time Niribili sat down comfortably on the bed beside Junak, Jatin had managed to position the phone upright. He then stepped back and Junak's laptop screen was filled with the beaming faces of his grandparents, Jatin and Priti.
"Aiyo, what happened to your hair?" Grandma cried, very predictably.
Junak absently touched his hair that was dyed blue at the edges. "Do you like it?"
They squinted at the screen, then nodded in approval.
"I'm also here," Niribili said, pushing into Junak's shoulder for more screen space, and the next five minutes went in to-and-fro shouting of greetings and the people on the other end awing at the fact that it was the middle of the night for Junak and Niribili.
"By the way, coming to the main matter at hand," Grandpa said, seriously but he was smiling, "did your film win the competition?"
Junak and Niribili shared a glance.
"What?" Grandma insisted. "Tell us."
Junak bit the inside of his lip. "No. Uh... we did not win."
For Junak, Niribili and Banhi, it was their best work, one they had given their all, one they were incredibly proud of, but at the end of the day, they still did not win. Not the prize they were looking for, in any case. "We got an honorary mention," Junak added. Which was mostly a tokenistic prize given to them in the name of diversity. Maybe. It had been a month since the results were announced, but Junak was still sore about it.
The people on screen did not look dejected, though. "That's good," Grandma cheered.
Niribili nodded, matching her happiness. "And it earned our Junak here loads of offers to work with other filmmakers."
Junak blushed, which was ridiculous. But yes, despite not winning, their film still stood out amongst all others and in their line of work, that was equally important.
"Aiyo, we knew it," Grandma cooed. "So what are you three doing now?"
"Classes, mostly," Junak said. "But we're working on our individual projects as well. Niri is going to France for a film."
She laughed shyly while Jatin gasped. "I always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. Send me pictures!"
"I can do you one better," she replied. "I'll video call you from there, how about it?"
The boy practically swooned. "Thank you, Niri-ba. You're the best."
Niribili rested her head on Junak's shoulder and smiled. "Enough about us, though. How have you all been?"
They filled them in. Jatin scored the highest in his class in one of his mid-term papers. Priti's son accidentally killed a duckling. Grandma got new plants and Grandpa spoke of the new books he had read.
Junak's heart felt warm.
But an ache still lingered. "How's um..." He cleared his throat. "How's Dikhou?"
"Aiyo, why are you asking us and not him?" Grandma teased.
Niribili wordlessly placed her hand over Junak's. He swallowed. "He – uh... I – I haven't been able to... talk to him recently."
"Ah yes, he's been a little busy," Grandpa said. "He got a job."
The bitterness in Junak's mouth tasted of betrayal and abandonment. "He... he did?"
"Did he really not tell you? It's contractual work he's doing for some foundation. I've asked him to apply for better jobs though, you know, something more permanent."
Junak nodded faintly.
"And Kopili's getting engaged."
Right.
"Oh my god, really?" Niribili took up the burden of carrying the conversation forward and for that Junak was glad. "Who is the guy? When is the wedding?"
The man was from Dibrugarh, another city in Assam, and worked as a professor. Junak's grandparents happily went on to provide more details but Junak could barely keep up with how awful he felt.
Sure, he and Dikhou were not... anything, they had no obligations to stay in touch, but Junak thought they were at least going to try. And this, this was important news. News Dikhou should have shared with him.
By the time the video call ended, he felt sick.
"I'm sorry, Jun," Niribili said.
He shrugged, rising to his feet to stretch his legs. Small pictures lined the wall above his bed – pictures of the people he had to leave behind. The sight of them made him feel stupid now. Dikhou had been clear, hadn't he, when he said things like I want you to be with someone who treats you well.
Whatever they had was over.
It was a dream. Or rather, a vacation. And they were now back in the real world.
He needed to accept that.
"You should try calling him," Niribili said. "Maybe he is actually busy."
What, and Junak wasn't? This final year had been brutal, with the amount of work shoved down his throat. But he still tried to stay in touch, did he not?
"I know when someone's ghosting me, Niri, so no thanks." Junak walked to the table and picked up a bottle of water. "He doesn't want to talk to me." His bracelet clinked against the glass body of the bottle, the letters D and J weaving together. "We're done. It's time to move on."
