The leaves of that ancient peepal tree in the village square were rustling just as they always had, but today, Jitu found no peace in their whisper. In the distance, at the community hall, a wealthy family’s wedding procession had just arrived. The deafening roar erupting from the massive speakers seemed to poison the very air of the village. The song blaring out was—“The Jatt was born only to rule...” The world was dancing to every beat of that song, young men kicking up clouds of dust as they swirled in celebration. But to Jitu, this wasn't music; it was a sharp scalpel piercing through his heart.

Jitu’s eyes kept drifting toward that empty spot in the square where his friend ‘Garry’ (Gurpreet) used to stand, once the life and soul of every gathering. Today, that vibrancy was lost somewhere on the streets of a foreign Canadian city, buried under the snow he was shoveling.