When did I first read the name, Bhaskar Hazarika? Out of curiosity, under torchlight, in a dark hall, to check the score-sheet, wondering, "Who is this film's director, man?" As part of the National Film Award jury, we'd been sitting through six back-to-back films, over ten gruelling days — surveying movies from East India, chiefly Bengal, most of which were either preposterously B-grade, commenting on the state of news media; or pretentiously artsy, inevitably invoking the memory of Robi Thakur, if not Shotojit Rai!

Our eyes, drooping on occasion, I suspect, lit up at some point to notice the striking image of an elephant-apple fruit, o'tenga (that looks a little like a green coconut), with eyes of its own, rolling down fields, stalking a rural woman. That woman, by the way, had given birth to this fruit! There were other interlinked visuals/stories, seamlessly sauntering into the surreal — bordering on Bunuel, Dali, if you may!