Showing posts with label Dalits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dalits. Show all posts

Saturday, November 22, 2025

Homebound: Hindu-Muslim Friendship in the Time of COVID, Government Apathy, Animosity and Casteism (Review 803)

Release date:

September 26, 2025

Director:

Neeraj Ghaywan

Cast:

Vishal Jethwa, Ishaan Khatter, Janhvi Kapoor, Shalini Vatsa, Harshika Parmar

Language:

Hindi 

 


I kept pinching myself while watching Homebound, to be sure I was awake. Was this a dream? Did this film actually come from the Hindi industry that has spent recent decades largely ignoring caste oppression, and the past 11 years pandering to majoritarian forces?  

 

Writer-director Neeraj Ghaywan’s Homebound is the story of two impoverished young men from a north Indian village – one Muslim, one Dalit – who hope that a job in the police force will give them the social standing and respect that has so far eluded them. An unexpected rivalry, further financial pressures and the COVID-19 pandemic each add new chapters to their life-long friendship.   

  

Ghaywan is an uncommon presence in contemporary Hindi filmdom, since his understanding of caste has been a hallmark of his slim but impactful body of work, starting with his debut feature, Masaan (Crematorium), that won two awards at the Cannes film festival in 2015. What makes Homebound unusual in this context is that it is produced by Karan Johar’s Dharma Productions, a company reputed for glossy films about wealthy Indians. (Dharma also produced Shazia Iqbal’s Dhadak 2, which too is an out-and-out anti-caste film – another surprise from the Hindi industry this year.)

 

Homebound was subjected to several cuts by the Central Board of Film Certification (CBFC), which is currently on a warpath against cinema that acknowledges caste atrocities, as I’ve learnt during my reporting on the subject in the past two years. Having said that, given the harassment that many other Indian producers have faced at the CBFC in this decade, it is a relief that this film escaped with edits that have not ruined the experience of viewing it.

  

Homebound dwells at length on another topic for which another Hindi filmmaker, Anubhav Sinha, was penalised: Sinha’s Bheed was chopped beyond recognition by the CBFC in a bid to pare down its portrayal of government apathy during the pandemic. Homebound has survived despite this being one of its central themes. 

 

To describe Homebound as brave is, therefore, an understatement. Making it even more noteworthy is its empathy towards Muslims in a decade in which Hindi cinema has unabashedly demonised the community, going so far as to distort history to make Muslim individuals the villains of episodes in which they were, in truth, the heroes. Exhibit A: Kesari released in 2019.   

  

Ghaywan’s film was premiered at Cannes this summer, and won the International People’s Choice Award second runner-up spot at the Toronto International Film Festival. It is also India’s entry for the Best International Feature Oscar race, an arena in which it has got itself a starting-point advantage in the form of Hollywood A-lister and international film legend Martin Scorsese, who is an Executive Producer. 

 

Courage is no guarantee of cinematic qualityHomebound is effective and captivating because its political awareness is woven into an intelligently crafted screenplay, and brought to life by the scintillating performances of its young leads.   

 

Vishal Jethwa plays Chandan Kumar, who hesitates to use the surname that would disclose his Dalit identity to those around him, and does not apply for jobs in the reserved category, as is his right, for fear of being ostracised. Ishaan Khatter is Mohammad Shoaib, a hard-working youngster who remains determined and driven despite facing constant suspicion and Islamophobic jibes.

 

Shoaib is filled with a simmering rage at these injustices. Chandan is more hesitant about asserting himself, except when the need arises to defend his friend. When it comes to himself, he requires a nudge from Shoaib to claim what is due to him from the society that conspires to keep him and his people down.

 

Jethwa was chilling as a rapist-killer in 2019’s Mardaani 2 headlined by Rani Mukerji. His unfaltering turn as the immensely likeable Chandan is evidence of remarkable versatility. Ghaywan has not blackfaced him for the role, making this casting choice – of a light-skinned, light-eyed actor – a rebellion against the stereotyping of the physical appearance of Dalits on the Indian screen. 

 

Khatter stood out even when saddled with jaded writing in the streaming shows A Suitable Boy (2020) and The Royals (2025). He’s a natural before the camera, and buries himself completely here in Shoaib’s personality and milieu. 

 

The actors’ chemistry underpins Homebound’s emotional resonance. Despite its grim preoccupations, the screenplay finds space for fun, laughter and relaxation, allowing the actors to generate such warmth towards each other that I found myself willing Shoaib and Chandan to remain friends forever when tension erupts between them. Even in those moments, the writing and acting gently foreground their vulnerability and desperation, thus allowing them to retain audience sympathy. 

 

Many of the conversations in the film are profoundly political, but they are never expository, strained or sermonic.

 

These men feel real, so do their surroundings. The expressive background score by Naren Chandavarkar and Benedict Taylor rises and falls in step with Nitin Baid’s carefully calibrated editing that imbues the events unfolding on screen with the rhythm of lived realities.

 

While the representation of anti-Muslim prejudice and casteism are intrinsic to Homebound, Shoaib and Chandan are written as being not overly conscious of their differing identities except to the extent that each is protective of the other when the environment turns hostile, mirroring genuine friendships in the real world.  

 

Homebound stands by the marginalised without pedestalising them, as films sometimes do when they are created by those who do not realise that positive stereotyping too is a form of othering. For one, it points to gender discrimination in Chandan’s family. It also underlines the heterogeneity among Dalits through the medium of Chandan’s girlfriend, Sudha Bharti played by Janhvi Kapoor, whose better economic circumstances cause her to briefly take a blinkered view of his struggles. 

 

Sudha is a small player in the story, belying Kapoor’s presence in the film’s marketing – but if you ignore the impression created by the promotions, that’s really not a flaw. Small is not trivial. In a sense, she is B.R. Ambedkar’s voice in Homebound, exhorting a fellow Dalit to get an education that she views as a means to securing her and his rightful place in society. She also challenges Chandan in little ways to introspect about his patriarchal attitudes. 

 

So though Homebound is focused on two men, it is not men-centric in the way conventional commercial Indian cinema is. Chandan’s mother and sister, played by Shalini Vatsa and Harshika Parmar – both stand-out members of the solid supporting cast – are pivotal to the plot, and are given well-defined arcs despite their limited screen time.  

 

For the most part, Homebound is a nuanced chronicle of abiding friendship in dire situationssocial prejudice, callousness towards the poorest among us, claims of victimhood by those whose communities have a track record of being oppressors, and the continuing victimisation of historically oppressed social groups. The film strays from its subtlety only a couple of times, to emphasise a point already conveyed with clarity. But this is a minor complaint about an otherwise consistently mature narrative.  

 

Shoaib and Chandan’s saga is inspired by journalist Basharat Peer’s news feature titled “Taking Amrit Home” published in The New York Times (it is available online under the headline “A Friendship, a Pandemic and a Death Beside the Highway”)Peer’s article emerged from his search for two men from Uttar Pradesh, Mohammad Saiyub and Amrit Kumar, after a photograph of Saiyub cradling Amrit in his lap on the margins of a highway went viral on social media, at a time when migrant workers in Indian cities had been forced to walk hundreds of kilometers back to their villages after the Central government abruptly imposed a nationwide lockdown in May 2020 without making adequate arrangements for the poor. The film is a fictionalised account of these young men’s lives, with the story credited to Peer, Ghaywan and Sumit Roy, a screenplay by Ghaywan, and dialogues by Ghaywan, Varun Grover and Shreedhar Dubey.

 

“Interfaith friendships in India are not as uncommon as the regnant political discourse might suggest,” Peer wrote simply in his NYT profile of Saiyub and Amrit. Homebound revisits this aspect of Indian life that has been fading away from the Hindi screen in recent years, in addition to confronting the caste system. 

 

Homebound is shorn of Amar Akbar Anthony-style melodrama and overt messaging that once characterised Hindi film portrayals of communal harmony. Like that picture of Saiyub and Amrit on social media, Shoaib and Chandan’s devotion to each other speaks for itself, serving as an urgent reminder of the amity that survives among us against all odds.

 

Running time:

122 minutes in theatre listings  

 

Poster courtesy: IMDB 

 

This is a long version of an article published in The Economic Times on September 27, 2025 under the headline "Chronicle of a Friendship in Dire Times"

https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/opinion/et-commentary/homebound-chronicle-of-a-friendship-in-dire-times/articleshow/124185023.cms

 

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

REVIEW 411: OZHIVUDIVASATHE KALI (AN OFF-DAY GAME)


Release date:
July 29, 2016 (Bengaluru), July 8, 2016 (Chennai), June 17 (Kerala)
Director:
Sanal Kumar Sashidharan
Cast:


Language:
Nisthar Ahamed, Pradeep Kumar P.M., Girish Nair, Baiju Netto, Arun Nayar, R. Reju Pillai, Abhija Sivakala
Malayalam


Writer-director Sanal Kumar Sashidharan’s Ozhivudivasathe Kali (An Off-Day Game) is a deceptively calm film. Like the water in that brook bubbling softly beside the primary location, it appears serene from a distance. Plunge below the tranquil surface though, and what you get is a chilling saga of caste, class, colour and misogyny in our society.

The hypocrisy in that outward calm and in the simmering tension beneath that veneer of peaceful co-existence are rendered all the more poignant because the story takes place in Kerala, a state that is romanticised and mythified in the north Indian imagination due to its high literacy rate and other positive social development indicators. That said, though the film is rooted in Kerala, it mirrors social realities across India. The language may be Malayalam, but it would hold meaning in any Indian language. Its cultural specificity is complemented by the universality of its themes.

This is a seemingly simple yet intimidatingly complex film. And it is stunning.

Ozhivudivasathe Kali is about five friends gathered at a remote country house. They have an off day from work due to elections in the state, hence the title. A local woman is roped in to cook them a meal, while they drink several rounds of alcohol.

From the moment we first spot these five middle-aged men together, the film delivers a running commentary on Kerala society. Liquor is a pre-occupation. Women are trivialised. Dark skin is mocked. One of them is addressed by the group as Thirumeni (holy one); we later discover that his surname is Namboothiri (read: a member of the priestly caste). Dasan’s complexion is the subject of much discussion. His caste ranking gradually becomes evident from the unspoken assumptions made about tasks he will handle and the later repeated taunts about “his party”.

Three things flow in plenty on this off day, as on all days in Kerala: conversation, alcohol and prejudice. The friends discuss the Emergency, caste, dignity of labour and sexual violence. In one of the film’s most telling passages, they sing a cheery song about beating up their wives. That women are their playthings is evident from that drunken number, and from their attitude to the cook Geetha.

Based on a story by Unni R., Ozhivudivasathe Kali rambles along as if nothing in particular is happening, yet it is an assemblage of potential explosions. Everyone except Geetha appears to be in a light-hearted mood, yet each one harbours resentments that run deep. It is those resentments – vicious and volcanic – that culminate in the film’s unexpected, horrifying climax.

If that climax has the ability to knock the breath out of a viewer, it is primarily because Ozhivudivasathe Kali feels not like a film but like an extract from real life. DoP Indrajith S. keeps his camera invisible, the acting is natural and the speech unscripted. That last part is unsurprising: there were, in fact, no written dialogues before the shooting began.

Rather than a loud background score to needlessly heighten the drama, the film ropes in sound designer T. Krishnanunni to weave nature seamlessly into, around, through and past the men’s endless chatter. The breeze, the brook, the birds and the rain are Ozhivudivasathe Kali’s music except in the beginning and end when composer Basil Joseph unobtrusively steps in.

Interestingly, the film does not seek to canonise victims of marginalisation, as lazily written commercial cinema often does. Dasan (played by Baiju Netto) may be bristling with anger at Dalit oppression, yet he too is a purveyor of misogyny. There also emerges during their talk, a hierarchy in hate: Vinayan (Pradeep Kumar P.M.) deems it acceptable to leer at Geetha (Abhija Sivakala) but believes that an actual physical relationship requires a woman’s consent, Asokan (Arun Nayar) says there is an element of rape in all sexual intercourse between a man and woman, we can guess without being told that Dharman (Nisthar Ahamed) agrees. (Aside: Girish Nair plays Namboothiri/Thirumeni.)

Revulsion for these men is partnered by fascination. It is impossible to look away. The camera understands that and remains unrelenting in its pursuit of them. The denouement is filmed in a single shot that lasts almost 48 minutes. It is exhausting, but enthralling.
  
Ozhivudivasathe Kali deservedly won the FIPRESCI Award for Best Malayalam Film at the International Film Festival of Kerala 2015 and Best Film at the Kerala State Film Awards in the same year. It got a theatrical release in its home state in June, hit Chennai early last month and is now in Bangalore theatres. This is a film that needs to be seen not just by Malayalis, but by everyone, not just by adults, but by children too.

As it happens, the usually queasy, politically conservative Central Board of Film Certification has given Ozhivudivasathe Kali a UA certificate. The director lets on that the Board asked for two voice mutes but no cuts. In an ideal world, even that should not have happened, but considering that the country’s Dalit agitation has reached a flashpoint in Gujarat – a state very dear to the present Central Government – it is a miracle that the film has been released at all.

Opening shots of the election mayhem in the film shows swarms of flags bearing political party symbols: the Congress’ hand, the hammer and sickle, the BJP’s lotus. A flock of BJP supporters drive by on motorcycles shouting “Bharat Mata ki jai (Hail Mother India)”. What follows is a story about the games played by the aforesaid Mata’s favoured children: upper caste, upper class, Hindu and male.

Ozhivudivasathe Kali is a socio-politically and culturally precious cinematic gem. Kerala, Chennai and Bangalore are fortunate. If it is not released in your city, the loss is entirely yours.

Rating (out of five): ****1/2

CBFC Rating (India):
UA
Running time:
106 minutes 

This review has also been published on Firstpost: