Shashank has been redeemed recently. Three decades into his profession, he has flipped over a new leaf and has been typing words into something sensible ever since. He dares to dream but makes sure to wake up to his realities. Of late, his past and that of his ilk are prompting him to probe and lay bare its threads and bones in front of friends, acquaintances and strangers alike. He wishes that in a parallel universe, he is a film star, or a poet, or a flute seller blowing his instrument out of tune throughout the day, with a never-dying hope of selling one someday.