What stories are woven in a crematorium? Stories of the dead, of the unsung perhaps? Or perhaps those, stuck in the throat as a lump since ages? Stories of lifelong pursuits and recurring dreams? Perhaps no. Of love that follows through the distances of galaxies? Perhaps never.But because Hope slithers its way through everything, Neelim, who has a suitcase full of journals, but not a single, good, sellable story to his credit, decides to write one from a crematorium in his adopted hometown, Guwahati.Smeared by a teacher's blood, frosted by a journalist's wait for justice, stinking of burnt skin from bomb-blasts, will Neelim's story be the mirror of his own fears and those of people, culturally rich and habitually simple, but stuck in the belief that they are nearing extinction, like the Giant Panda and the Black Rhino? Will it be another re-telling of tales, streaming from the grey clouds of a city haunted by memories of insurgent activities? Or is it going to be, what Neelim truly wishes it to be a tale of dreams and of the grit to see those through to reality? Of relentless striving for a distanced, but never-forgotten love?
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