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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Life settled into a comfortable routine after that.
In the mornings, Junak would sit with his grandfather and discuss the news over chai. The old man knew a lot and had really strong opinions against the Right that Junak thoroughly enjoyed listening to.
After that, he would help his grandmother in her gardening. The old woman would ask him to pluck vegetables and tell him all she knew about the earth and how to care for the plants.
It was in one such gardening adventure that he found out that Dikhou was an agriculture major and had taught Grandma some secret techniques to make better manure. Junak needed a few moments to process that.
"He's hoping to get into a research program or something like that."
"Research?" Junak echoed.
His grandmother was checking the chilli plant for pests. Her mekhela was tucked up at her waist, revealing her ankles. "I don't understand much," she said, "but he's a bright kid, I'm sure he'll get it."
"Huh. Science kid."
"What?"
"Nothing." Guess he wasn't too bad for a science kid.
He met Dikhou at least twice every day. In the mornings he would randomly drop by to have some idle chat with either Grandma or Jatin and later in the evening, he would show up before dinner to ensure Junak's grandparents had taken their medicines.
That bit blew Junak's mind when he found out.
"You come over every day just to hand them meds?"
Dikhou shrugged, arranging the medicine in a box and then putting it in a drawer. They were in Junak's grandfather's old study, a small room with lots of shelves and even more books. There was an ancient longcase clock looming in one side, showing that it was half-past eight.
"Can't Jatin or Priti do it?"
"They can – and they didwhen I was away for my studies. But," Dikhou shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck, "I don't mind. And I live right next door so it's no problem."
Junak leaned back against a shelf, eyeing the other man while nibbling at a carrot stick he got from Priti. "Where did you go to study?"
Dikhou had his back to Junak. He was staring out of the window that opened out to the dark backyard. "Jorhat."
"You didn't wanna go outside Assam?" Junak did not think much about his question; in his head, everyone wanted to leave.
So when Dikhou stiffly and harshly said "No" and walked out of the room, he wondered what was inappropriate in his question.
But then Priti made duck for dinner and Junak forgot all about it.
Priti was a great cook. And she had a great sense of humour. Around a decade older than Junak, she was the mother of two beautiful kids and they lived on a small plot of land right behind Grandpa's. She had been working for the old pair since she was a kid, with her mother being their previous cook. She was also a kickass carrom-player, as Junak soon found out.
