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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Dikhou found an empty pair of seats near the back of the bus. He dropped his bag and the dhool on the aisle seat and slumped down on the other.
It felt like the end of the world.
He could still feel it, the lingering scent of Junak's skin on his... or maybe it was just his imagination; he couldn't tell anymore. It was like Junak had invaded all his senses and now, without him, Dikhou felt hollow.
And cold. So fucking cold.
The cold had never bothered him before, but tonight, it seemed to be clinging onto him. He roughly unzipped his bag, then remembered how Junak had worn his hoodie that morning and then randomly strewn it somewhere across the room, so obviously, in his hurry to leave, Dikhou forgot to pack it.
Fuck.
He wanted to cry. Or maybe he was crying, judging from the way the bus conductor practically shoved a bottle of water towards him before hastily walking away.
Dikhou wrapped his arms around himself, as tightly as he could, and rested his head against the window. The interior lights of the bus were on so his reflection stared back at him – his eyes were red and puffy and his hair was thoroughly messed up from back when Junak was playing with it.
His heart ached.
He closed his eyes.
The bus rumbled, then slowly began to roll out onto the road. The lights dimmed and Dikhou was suddenly very glad to be drowning in the darkness.
It hurt. So much. Dikhou did not understand why. Neither did he know what to do with it. It swelled inside of him, the pain, choking his organs.
It was so foolish of him, to get swept off his feet like that. He should've known this was how it was going to end, but no, he was far too deep in denial. And now here he was, hurting like he was going to die.
He could not forget the Junak he saw with those two friends of his – it was so different from the Junak he knew. He seemingly spoke a different language with them, one that Dikhou knew he would never be able to learn. It also reminded Dikhou of how vastly different both their worlds were.
Stay there and do what? Farm?
How long are you staying there then?
Two more weeks, maybe.
It was said so casually, with a laugh and an air of indifference, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Who was Dikhou kidding? It was obvious. It had been obvious since day one. Dikhou was the one who grew blind to it.
He had been so stupid! He jeopardised everything for this; his life, his future, his family. He fought with Jiri over this!
