Project Heart - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

The locally brewed alcohol was really strong.
Junak woke up to a splitting headache, with blinding light strewn over his face from the windows – the thin curtains did little to keep the sunlight out. His body felt stiff from sleeping on a new bed, especially one with such a thin mattress.
As he groaned and made a desperate attempt to shield his eyes, his fingers fell on a piece of paper that was stuck to his forehead. He pulled it off. It was a yellow sticky note with neat small words scribbled on it. Junak had to squint to read it –
You're sucha lousy drunk, I never NOT have fun watching you like this. Anyway, wake UPP!!!! Niri and I are going out. xo xo
Scoffing, he crumpled the note and threw it away. He then slung an arm over his eyes and let out a sigh. Hangovers were by no means new to him but Banhi's comment about him being a lousy drunk did raise a bit of anxiety. Especially when he remembered that a certain curly-haired dude was there.
Pulling himself out of bed was a chore, and coupled with the fact that the bathroom was located outside, a few metres away from the main house, and the water was only a few degrees above the freezing point, Junak wished he could just sleep the day away. He couldn't of course; he had work to do and his grandparents to impress.
When he was finally done, he found his grandfather sitting on a large wooden chair on the porch, reading a newspaper. Bright sunlight poured across the lawn, lapping over the porch as well. Junak felt the warmth seep into his bones as he approached his grandfather. "Good morning, koka."
"Morning?" the man said without looking up from the newspaper. Though he seemed to be reprimanding Junak, there was no displeasure or hostility in his voice. "Do you know what time is it?"
It was 11 am. Still morning according to Junak's schedule. "Sorry, koka. I had a nice nap."
"Your friends are already out and about." He closed the newspaper, folding it neatly. "They are really nice girls. Very spirited."
"Yeah."
"Come, sit with me. Did you see your grandma on your way?" Junak nodded. "Good, then Priti will be bringing us breakfast."
The us got to Junak. "You didn't have breakfast yet?" he asked as he sat on a chair next to the older man.
"Why, I was waiting for you!"
Looking back, perhaps Junak would realise he should've felt love and warmth at this, or felt guilty for making the old man wait for him. But at that point, all he felt was irritation. Who starved just to have a shared meal, especially when the other person had no idea they were being waited on? Either his grandfather was too dumb or this was some ploy to make him feel bad; Junak did not like either of the possibilities.
He did not say anything as he sat there, fidgeting with the end of his sleeves and watching the calm of the village spread out in front of him. The street was mostly deserted but a few boys and girls in school uniform occasionally cycled past. The shrieks and laughter of children drifted in from far away in a clear indication that they were having a better time than Junak.
"Tell me about your college, Junak."
Though it was a perfectly good topic for two strangers to make conversation on, Junak felt like he was walking on landmines as he answered. He gave out harmless bits of information – about the beautiful campus, the teachers, the cafeteria.
"Ah yes, the food there is very different, isn't it?" You must have missed home was the sentence that should've followed, and though the old man didn't say it, they both felt its presence.
Junak suddenly wondered if coming here was a bad idea after all.
His grandma arriving with breakfast was a relief to both of them. Priti, their cook, handed the two men their bowls of jolpan and tea and retreated, while Grandma took a seat with them.
Junak was glad for her presence; she had an almost natural way of diffusing tension.
"So, tell me about this music video of yours, Jun," Grandma said, all curiosity and excitement.
"Ah, yes," Grandpa piped in. "Before coming here, over the call, you said you'll be needing some help?"
"Yes, koka." Junak took a sip of the tea, ignoring the hollowness in his chest that felt a lot like he was betraying the old couple. "Are there any good Bihu dancers and musicians here that you know?"
"Aiyo." Grandma laughed. "What kind of question is that! Of course, we do."
"The youngsters in our village are very talented," Grandpa said. "Our Dikhou?! Nobody in the district can play the dhool like he does."
Great. Of all the people in the whole village, it had to be him.
"Talk to him, he'll help you out with everything," Grandpa continued. "He's pretty much the leader of the performers' group here – they aren't like the artists you see in your cities, but they are this well-knit group of young men and women who perform in competitions and such."
"Last year they won a big competition in Guwahati," Grandma added, pride clear in her voice.
Grandpa nodded. "They'll help you out. Talk to Dikhou."
Talk to Dikhou.
Ugh. Junak felt his headache return.
Niribili and Banhi were sitting on a grassy patch of land by the bank of the gigantic community lake. An old tree, with its wide canopy, protected them from the sunlight as they watched a few men manually fishing with large nets.
Junak pulled the hoodie closer around his ears and hugged himself as he walked up to them. Though the sunlight was softly warm, the breeze wafting off the water body was chilling.
"Good morning, sir," Banhi cheered on seeing him. She was lying on her back, her head on Niribili's lap. Niribili had her camera out, recording the people who were fishing.
"Why'd you get up so early?" Junak collapsed on the ground next to them, pulling his knees up to his chin. "You made me look bad."
Banhi laughed while Niribili let out a chuckle.
Their reaction did not sit well with Junak. "What?"
Instead of answering, Banhi took out her phone, opened a video and handed it to him.
Dread grew all over his heart. Fearing the worst, he pressed play.
He was dancing, drunkenly, to old Bihu songs. Banhi was next to him, mirroring his steps and doing them a lot more gracefully than he was. He was also singing on top of his lungs, with complete disregard to the tune. The group of guys surrounding them were hooting and cheering at him, quite flirtatiously. He chalked it up to the fact that some of the steps he was doing were traditionally performed by women.
"Embarrassing, but could've been worse," he muttered, returning the phone.
"It was quite endearing actually," Niribili said without looking away from the camera screen. She was smiling.
He hoped it meant she had forgiven him for the ghost-incident. "If you two are done making fun of me," he said, mirroring Niribili's smile, "we need to start our work."
Banhi sat upright on hearing his words. Niribili turned off the camera and sat it on the grass by her side. Junak pulled out a small notepad from the pocket of his hoodie and wordlessly handed it to Niribili.
"Okay, so..." She opened the notepad, a pen appearing in her hand, seemingly out of nowhere. "Junak, updates on the song?"
Junak took in a deep breath. "So far, I got nothing. I've been brainstorming but I can't really start without having the music first."
"What are we doing about the music?" Niribili asked, busy scribbling on the page.
"Grandpa said Dikhou is the best musician around here," he muttered, not bothering to hide the distaste in his voice, "so I guess I'll talk to him."
"Do that asap, yeah?" Niribili said.
Junak nodded, hating that she knew he was reluctant to talk to him and was looking for ways to delay the said interaction for as long as he could.
"So, music, you're handling." As Niribili wrote on the notepad, a few strands of hair came loose from her ponytail and fell on her face, disturbing her.
Banhi reached out and tucked it behind her ear. "I'll go scout for locations," she said.
"Hmm. Aita asked me to meet someone called Gagori, so I'll do that," Niribili said, then added, "She's apparently the best dancer around."
"About that," Banhi said, playing with the strap of her camera that was sitting beside her, "I still don't understand how we're gonna do it. We're gonna have to tell the dancers they are not flirting with the guys."
Junak massaged his temple, the hangover headache still lingering. "I was hoping we'd miraculously find a queer woman here."
"And ruin her life by outing here?" Niribili asked.
"What?" Junak's head snapped up to meet her gaze. "No! Of course, not."
Niribili held his gaze, her face serious; the way she always looks when talking business. "I still think it's a bad idea."
Her lack of faith in Junak and his brilliant, era-changing idea hit him like a kick to the gut. He gritted his teeth and said, "You flew all the way from California, Niri. Isn't it a little too late to criticise the whole idea?"
Banhi tensed at the sharpness in his voice but Niribili held her calm and firm ground. "I'm not against the whole idea," she said. "But coming here, involving the villagers – it doesn't sit well with me."
Banhi was frowning. Junak knew she was going to take her girlfriend's side so he did not even bother. "What else can we do?" he asked, meeting their gazes unflinchingly. "We can't get performers from outside Assam, we'll lose points for cultural inappropriation."
"What about... from Guwahati?" Banhi asked, hesitantly.
Junak gritted his teeth and looked down. He reached out to tug the grass at his feet. "You mean those elite, stuck-up fuckers gatekeeping art?"
Banhi raised a brow and looked at Niribili who nodded sadly and said, "It's true. The artists' community we know will never be okay with us queer-ing Bihu."
"What about the queer people in Guwahati?" Banhi asked.
Niribili turned to Junak. "Can't you talk to Varya? They must know a lot of people."
Junak hated, hated, that they reached the exact conversation he had dreaded and was desperately hoping to never have. Instead of answering, he continued to forcefully pull out the blades of grass.
"Jun..." Banhi scooted closer to him, and put a hand on his arm. "What's wrong?" she asked softly.
Junak's hands were shaking. He let go off the grass and clenched his fingers around the sleeves of his hoodie. "T-They don't like me," he muttered. Before they could ask more, he looked up at Niribili, uncaring of how weak and vulnerable and cowardly he seemed at that moment. "Sasha is a part of the queer group. Practically leads it."
Understanding flashed through Niribili's eyes. Unlike Banhi, she knew all about Junak's past exploits, so she certainly knew about Sasha, his ex. They had dated for four years, and it ended with a messy breakup that somehow the whole city became aware of. Because Sasha was the one with more friends and influence, breaking up with her meant breaking up with all the tight-knit groups that she was a part of.
The queer group was one such group that cast him out. They would never work for him, and he would never ask.
"Well," Niribili said, "having actors from the village will certainly be more organic."
Banhi frowned at her girlfriend's sudden change in opinion but said nothing.
"I'll go talk to Gagori and the other girls. See how they are and get a grasp of the situation. Who knows, people might be more open-minded than we think."
Junak was so glad for her support, he could almost cry.
As if sensing his thoughts, she slapped her palm on his back – hard, but hard enough to hurt. "Okay sir, the self-pity segment of this show is over. We now need to move on and make a film that's gonna show everyone who's the real boss. Yeah?"
Junak chuckled. Niribili wasn't the best person at pep talks, but he loved her. Goddamn, he loved her.
He smiled and nodded.
"Wow, you two are..." Banhi trailed off, her eyes falling at something behind Junak. He turned around to see a familiar mop of messy hair.
Dikhou was seemingly immune to the cold; he was wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and blue jeans. And those ugly slippers. He raised a hand in greeting, face lit up with a bright smile that revealed a dimple on one cheek. "Morning," he said, coming to a halt beside them.
"Good morning," the girls chorused. Junak looked away, his fingers tugging at the grass again.
"Koka said I'll find you here." Dikhou shoved his hands in his pockets. "Enjoying the view?" For Banhi to understand, he spoke in English. It was heavily accented, but like in a strangely soothing way.
N-Not... not to Junak. Of course.
Banhi nodded in answer. "We're brainstorming actually."
"Is koka and aita looking for us?" Niribili asked.
"No, no. I came because koka said Junak was looking for me."
"I wasn't," Junak hissed, finally turning to face the guy.
"Really?" Dikhou pretended to be confused with his head tilted to the side but there was a smirk tugging the corners of his lips. "But I heard something about you needing musicians to help write a song."
Junak was grinding his teeth so hard, it was starting to hurt his jaw. "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."
Dikhou raised a brow, letting out a low, short laugh. "Okay, then. If I'm not needed, I'll just leave."
"Please do."
Dikhou waved a bye at the girls, then turned on his heels and walked away through the way he came.
Junak scowled at his back, then turned to his friends –
- who were staring at him.
"What was that?" Niribili asked. "We need his help."
Junak made a face of disgust. "No, we don't."
"Just a while back, you promised to talk to him."
Junak folded his hands over his chest and raised his chin. "I changed my mind. He's annoying."
Niribili shot him a murderous glare. "He's nice to talk to, is close to your grandparents, knows everyone in the village and, quoting you, is the best musician around here."
Junak loved her and hated her all at the same time.
"I think," unlike her girlfriend, Banhi was smirking, "our Jun here has a teeny tiny crush on him."
Junak would rather Banhi had pushed him into the lake that suggest something so insulting. "I don't! Ew," he cried, then, for emphasis, added another, "Ew!"
Banhi continued smirking but Niribili pointed at the way Dikhou left. "Then go talk to him."
Junak waited for a beat. Then another. His friends did not yield. "Fine." He huffed and got to his feet. He dusted his pants, slung his camera over his shoulder, and turned to leave.
"Just don't fall for his ghost stories again," Niribili added, dead serious. Banhi laughed.
He flipped them the bird over his shoulder.