Riya Kapoor lives for frames—her life stitched together from the glossy reels of VegaMovies, a fledgling Mumbai studio that promises cinema with a pulse. At twenty-eight, she edits trailers for a living and dreams in color grades, but something else hums beneath: a quiet ache that fame and craft haven’t filled. Riya’s pursuit of happiness begins when the studio announces a high-stakes anthology competition: “Happiness in 10 Minutes.” Winners get funding for a full-length feature. For Riya, it’s a chance to direct the story she’s been carrying—an ode to small joys. Act 1 — Static Frames Riya’s apartment is a shrine to small routines: pre-dawn chai, the same train window seat, and an ever-growing playlist of VegaMovies’ past releases—films that promise catharsis in neat, marketable arcs. At work she trims laughter and sharpens heartbreak into two-minute bites for social feeds. Her mentor, Arjun, insists feeling is a commodity that must be sold. “Happiness is a hook,” he says; “we package it, ship it, measure it in metrics.” Riya tries to nod, but outside the studio lights she notices a different economy: Mrs. Iyer, the tea-vendor who hums to herself while arranging biscuits; an auto driver who waters a single potted plant each morning; a child drawing stick-figure optimism on the footpath. These small acts reverberate. Act 2 — The Spark Riya decides her entry will be unscripted—real people, uncut joy. She calls it Choti Khushiyan (Small Joys). The Vega committee is skeptical; Arjun warns that raw honesty won’t trend. Riya persists, convinced that happiness is not a crescendo but a collection of whispers. She assembles a micro-crew and ventures beyond the polished neighborhoods: a municipal library where an elderly couple competes in crossword puzzles; a morning class at a municipal art center where a widower learns to mix colors again; a rooftop where a neighborhood group tends to chimneys turned into herb gardens.