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...
Ουπς! Αυτή η εικόνα δεν ακολουθεί τους κανόνες περιεχομένου. Για να συνεχίσεις με την δημοσίευση, παρακαλώ αφαίρεσε την ή ανέβασε διαφορετική εικόνα.
A hush fell over the house when Niribili and Banhi left, along with Prapti and Megha. Grandma teared up while bidding them goodbye, making Niribili promise she was going to stay in touch. The old couple also sent them bags full of eatables which made Banhi go all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Puhor, for whatever reason, did not leave. Junak suspected it was to make sure he did not extend his week-long stay to... a month. Or more. Because he thought about doing so all the time.
One week, see, was not nearly enough. Junak felt like he was running out of air to breathe.
He spent the mornings with his grandmother, then had breakfast with his grandfather. After this Dikhou would show up. And though all Junak wanted to do was make out with him, it apparently wasn't proper - as Dikhou subtly pointed out - to be doing that in the obvious knowledge of his grandparents, so instead, they spent several hours working together.
Dikhou would bring his books and Junak would get his laptop and they would sit on Junak's bed, always touching somehow - either Junak would lay his head on Dikhou's lap or they would sit with their arms pressed together. It was everything Junak had ever wanted from a relationship - the uncomplicated comfort and peace. He did not even need the music blasting in the background, Dikhou's breaths and his murmurs when he focused too hard on something was enough.
Dikhou had lunch with Junak and his family during the whole week.
They curled up together in bed in the afternoons, cuddling or talking.
They told each other about their lives before they met. Junak spoke of his school days, his friends, the reckless parties he used to throw for popularity, the plays he performed and the songs and scripts he wrote in secret. He spoke of the good memories, bad memories and even the most embarrassing ones just to get drunk on Dikhou's laughter. Dikhou told him about his time in college, about how he had always struggled with his friendships. He narrated stories of his family, his childhood and whispered secret memories that he swore no one else was privy to.
Junak soaked it all in, hoping it would keep him warm when the man himself was no longer there next to him.
It was a pathetic attempt at best, but what else could he do?
He also made videos. Loads of them. Of his grandparents, Jatin, Priti and her family. Of the house. Of Lohor in his mischiefs. And of Dikhou, of course. Dikhou standing in the backyard talking to Kopili, Dikhou intently reading a book, Dikhou crouched on the ground to pet a stray dog, Dikhou smiling and Dikhou singing and Dikhou looking at Junak with pure adoration in his eyes.
Dikhou was not allowed to stay the nights - for decency or some bull shit like that - but he sneaked in after Junak's grandparents went to sleep and sneaked out before the crack of dawn. Junak went to sleep to the warmth of his skin but always woke up alone, to the lingering scent of Dikhou on his sheets. A part of Junak wanted to whine and complain but a bigger part of him knew Dikhou was already giving him all he could.
