Muhib came to live with his sister when she got married, he believed his sister to be the best woman to have existed, to be alive and the best woman who will ever exist. She has her eyes fixated at her brother, his deep, audible breathing is the only sign of life left in him. Zeba needs need to cry, and she needs to let out the loud inarticulate howling that sits inside her throat. She needs to rectify the silences of all those nineteen years with her husband. Her dying brother’s a day old marriage has only her as the testament, she has to somehow let Aru know about the accident. Aru and Muhib’s wedding was filled with snippets of memories of laughter and joy, but mostly a rakish yellow punjabi. It’s a story of love, a love unalloyed, uncorrupted and unfinished. Fated to meet a fatal car crash on the day after, his life hangs in the balance of sweeping uncertainty. This is a meditation on loss, grief and its finiteness in affecting the endearment that’s cavern deep, permanent and unshakeable.
