Reviews & Musings

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.