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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Junak was making out with a stranger, the first time in a long time, when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
Lost in a heat of limbs, in the taste of cigarettes and lipstick, and mostly drunk out of his mind, he ignored it.
It vibrated again. And again.
"Dude," the woman, he could not remember her name, groaned against his lips.
"Yeah, sorry, gimme a sec..." He fumbled in the dark to pull out his phone from the back pocket. Half distracted by the mouth against his neck, he squinted at the screen to put the device on silent. Only, his eyes fell on a message from his mother, in all caps. "Wait, wait, wait..." He pushed away from the stranger, who let out a curse and sat upright on her knees above him. "Sorry, it's my mom."
"Seriously?" the insult in her voice was clear though he could not see her expression. Only a dimmed light was on in the corner of his room, highlighting her silhouette but leaving the details shrouded in mystery.
Junak squirmed on the bed to grab his glasses from the nightstand. He wasn't sure why he was pissing off his hookup to read a few texts from his mother but he wanted to read those texts from his mother over kissing the seriously hot woman in his bed.
"Dude, seriously?" she said again, impatiently.
Junak was only planning to read the messages, drop a quick reply, then put the phone on silent, but the moment he opened the chat, his heart practically tore out of his chest on seeing one particular name that brought his life to a screeching halt.
Ma : CALL ME WHEN YOU HAVE TIME
Ma : ASAP
Ma : IT'S ABOUT DIKHOU
Ma : AND ITS IMPORTANT
Ma : CALL ME
Much to the further annoyance of his hookup, he pushed himself upright against the headboard. Though the alcohol had numbed most of his brain, a million dreadful scenarios still ran through his head, a mile a minute, each one worse than the other.
"Um, hello. I'm still here."
Junak was fazed as he said, "You should leave."
The woman was silent for a beat before scoffing at him. "Wow." She climbed off the bed and put on her top. "You know this is why no one likes... wait, which country are you from?"
He was working on autopilot when he said, "India."
"Wait really? You don't look Indian."
Junak's autopilot mouth did not have enough data to respond to that. So he just sat there, his phone held against his chest, and waited for her to leave.
The moment the door closed shut after her, he felt himself shaking – his limbs, his heart, everything. It was ridiculous and a little unfair how much that one man still affected him, left him completely helpless and heartbroken.
And what was with his mother's message anyway? Call her about something related to Dikhou? It did not sound good.
Junak already felt tears stinging his eyes as he put his mother on call.
~~~
A/n
Lol so "you don't look Indian" is a form of local racism where some mainland Indians claim that most people living in the northeastern part of India don't belong to India because they "look different". It sounds whatever but can get pretty bad at times, like with all other forms of discrimination, leading to violence and bullying.
