Reviews & Musings

Quotes (From the preface)  “All theories of writing are bogus. Every writer develops his own method or lack of method and a story comes into being for some unknown reason anyhow.” – R.K. Narayan   “I liked to be free to read what I please and not be examined at all.” – R.K. Narayan  Both these lines stayed with me long after I finished the book. They feel almost like a permission slip to read freely, to write instinctively, and to not over-intellectualise the act of creation. Coming back to Narayan now, while consciously trying to study writing, felt ironic and grounding at the same time.

I am often asked by readers of Between the Lines : “Have you read all the books you write about?” 

For a long time, cinema was a world I wasn’t allowed to enter. I grew up in a home where movies were banned. No television, no glimpses of silver screens, and no songs echoing from old classics. For nearly a decade, cinema was a forbidden word like a secret behind a closed door.  And yet, like all things that carry truth and longing, it found its way to me. Stories have a way of finding you, slipping through cracks, whispered between pages, caught in melodies. Sometimes through the corners of borrowed books, sometimes through whispered summaries from classmates, sometimes just through the magnetic pull of posters and songs I wasn’t supposed to hear. 

If you’ve ever walked out of a movie theater feeling transformed, humming a melody, or quoting a line that hit you right in the soul, you already know the magic we lived during the Lights, Camera, India !  a.k.a. our recent Online  Film Appreciation Workshop by Karwaan Heritage .  If Satyajit Ray had directed a documentary about the love for Indian cinema and invited a few professors, critics, musicians, and die-hard fans to co-write it, it might look something like this workshop. This wasn’t your average academic affair. This was a full-blown cinematic experience. A masterclass. A masala epic of knowledge, nostalgia, and nonstop  naach-gaana . A cinematic pilgrimage.  A celebration of Indian cinema so immersive, so joyful, that even the most punctual of us stopped caring when sessions ran overtime. (And they always did.)

Watching Basu Chatterjee’s Khatta Meetha feels like stepping into a gentle embrace of nostalgia and hope. It’s a film that captures the beauty of life amidst the everyday chaos, a tender reminder that while life never promised to be easy, it did promise to be worthwhile.  In 1978, it was revolutionary: telling the story of widow remarriage and the vibrant yet often overlooked Parsi community, while weaving in the universal struggles of the middle class like unemployment, limited salaries, dreams that stretch further than their means, and the unstoppable rise of inflation. Yet, in the face of these challenges, the characters remain radiant, waking each day with a smile in their hearts and a song on their lips. 

If , a 26-minute short film by acclaimed Bengali filmmaker Tathagata Ghosh, is a sensitive, evocative piece of storytelling that lingers long after the credits roll. Set against the everyday rhythm of life in Kolkata, the film delicately unpacks the story of a lesbian couple torn apart by the weight of societal expectations and dares to imagine a different future, one where a mother's love might just change everything.  What struck me first was the film’s raw, grounded realism. The characters feel like people we know, middle-class families navigating a complex world with quiet resilience. The world of If is filled with silences, glances, and stills, rather than heavy dialogue. Ghosh masterfully uses these moments to speak volumes, allowing viewers to sit with discomfort, interpret the unspoken, and feel deeply.

In Kaagaz Ke Phool , Guru Dutt masterfully crafts a visually compelling first meeting between the protagonists, played by Waheeda Rehman, and Guru Dutt himself. Set in an expansive yet sparsely filled film studio, the scene’s mise-en-scène subtly reflects themes of isolation, fate, and artistic destiny. The setting plays a crucial role in establishing the mood. The studio is mostly empty, with scattered props, hanging lights, and large curtains, reinforcing the protagonist’s solitude. 

Indian cinema has long been fascinated with the village. From the earthy, socialist realism of Do Bigha Zamin (1953) to the melodramatic lament of Mother India (1957), the village once stood as both heartland and hinterland — a space of moral clarity, rustic struggle, and often unyielding fate. But as the urban middle class began to dominate cinematic production and consumption, the depiction of the village increasingly came to reflect an urban gaze, that is, a perspective shaped by distance, nostalgia, condescension, or even outright fantasy.  In recent years, this urban gaze has taken on new shades, evident in the way mainstream and indie filmmakers alike have re-engaged with rural India. While some have tried to explore the village as a site of resistance, authenticity, or even horror, others continue to reproduce sanitized or exaggerated versions of village life that serve urban sensibilities more than rural realities. 

Shatranj Ke Khiladi analysis by Namrata The 1977 multi-starrer Shatranj ke Khiladi made by Satyajit Ray is based on a short story of the same name, written by Munshi Premchand in 1924. Set in Lucknow, 1856, the film narrates two parallel threads: the private, obsessive world of two noblemen, Mirza Sajjad Ali (Sanjeev Kumar) and Mir Roshan Ali (Saeed Jaffrey), who are so engrossed in their game of chess that they remain oblivious to the British annexation of their kingdom; and the political maneuverings between Nawab Wajid Ali Shah (Amjad Khan) and the British East India Company, led by General Outram (Sir Richard Attenborough). Ray enriches the short story by fleshing out the political backdrop with remarkable attention to detail. Wajid Ali Shah, traditionally dismissed as an effeminate and ineffective ruler, is portrayed with surprising sympathy. In Amjad Khan’s nuanced performance, the Nawab emerges as a poet-king, more a victim of history than an agent of his own demise. His artist...

Across the River by Bhaichand Patel (Speaking Tiger, 2024) is a compelling exploration of friendship, love, and the fraught intersections of tradition and modernity in contemporary India. Set in the dense, labyrinthine alleys of Old Delhi, the novel follows the lives of Seema Choudhry and Madhu Gupta—two young women from different religious backgrounds whose friendship transcends the rigid divides imposed by their families and communities. Through their journey, Patel crafts an evocative narrative that examines the power structures shaping women's lives, the weight of societal expectations, and the slow but inevitable tide of change.