by whatsonsidsmind

Walking Back to Bhowanipore: A Memoir – Part 1

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 4 Min Read

The year was 1999. I was fifteen. Calcutta was still called that, though its rechristening was already on the horizon. That September, a single bout of torrential rain brought the city to its knees. From our third-floor flat, I watched nervously as the water on Gokhale Road rose inch by inch, swallowing the street below. Schools were shut, and office-goers hitched rides on hand-pulled rickshaws just to reach dry land, where a bus, a taxi, or the metro might rescue them. The spitting rain continued for two more days, and we rejoiced at the unexpected school holidays.

Floods were common back then, but school closures weren’t. This was as close to a bandh as we could get, which, in those days, wasn’t all that rare either. Unlike that brief celebration, most of my monsoon memories of Kolkata are murky: waterlogged streets, a constant stench, clouds of mosquitoes, and a sky that never cleared. I don’t think many liked the rains back then, except on weekends, when the smell of khichuri in the afternoons or telebhaja in the evenings drifted from one house to another, bringing momentary comfort.

Now, as I sit on my balcony in Bangalore with a cup of tea, watching a gentle drizzle fall, memories of Calcutta’s torrential monsoons and my childhood in Bhowanipore come rushing back. Unlike the rains, those memories remain warm and dear.

I grew up in Bhowanipore, largely unaware of the historical weight the neighbourhood carried. That awareness came much later. Back then, life revolved around casual addas with friends and weekend rituals: cricket matches at the Maidan in the morning, and evening strolls through the neighbourhood. These walks took us past some of the city’s iconic landmarks such as Nandan Cinema, Rabindra Sadan, Victoria Memorial, St. Paul’s Cathedral, and Nehru Planetarium, and were often punctuated by street food stops—Kolkata-style chowmein, Kathi rolls, puchkas, bhel puri, and, on better days, momos from Tibetan Delight.

Tucked between the bustling arteries of Shambhunath Pandit Street on one end and Acharya Jagadish Chandra Bose Road on the other, Gokhale Road offered a rare pocket of calm. Even as the neighbourhood around it pulsed with commerce and traffic, this narrow street remained something of an oasis: shielded and remarkably quiet.

But perhaps the most defining space of that time was a rectangular stretch called Chowringhee Terrace, a lane branching off Gokhale Road, opposite the Institution of Engineers, and tapering off near the police barracks. That quiet end hosted the Gokhale Sporting Club Durga Puja—familiar to locals but never crowded enough to descend into the chaos that marked the city’s more prominent pujas in South-Central Kolkata. At the other end, near the post office and Institution of Engineers, was where we spent most evenings in adda and gully cricket, using a heavy plastic ball that could travel the distance, and could wake the locality up if it hit a metal gate.

In many ways, though, Gokhale Road always felt dwarfed by the commercial and cultural landmarks that surrounded it. When returning from other parts of town, we often struggled to explain its exact location to taxi drivers. It was usually nearby landmarks such as Ganguram, Gol Mandir—that came to our rescue.

Yet Gokhale Road quietly held its own. It was home to several important institutions: the Institution of Engineers, the Army’s Recruitment Centre, Calcutta Club, the Police Housing Estate, and the Mahavir Digambar Jain Temple tucked into Chowringhee Terrace. And despite its proximity to the city’s beating heart namely Park Street, Esplanade, and Elgin—it somehow retained a hush, a kind of quiet that the grander, more restless parts of Kolkata could never quite manage.

My father never left Gokhale Road. Though we lived in a small apartment and could well afford a larger one elsewhere, he’d brush off the suggestion, saying, “This is where everyone wants to live. Why should we leave?”

Part of it, I think, was his deep resistance to change—he was never much of an adventurer. Although, as a chartered accountant working in a private firm in Old Court House Street, he had traveled extensively auditing banks. I believe it was memory that anchored him. His entire childhood was woven into the fabric of this neighbourhood.

(To be continued. Part 2 … this weekend)

***

About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

Movie Review | Absurd, Unsettling and Hilarious: Sanctuary Hijacks your Brain in 90 Minutes

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 2 Min Read

It takes Sanctuary (trailer) about 40 minutes, from posturing as absurdist fiction, to transform into a no-holds-barred psychological revenge drama cum rom-com — if that makes any sense. It’s a template I haven’t seen before, a plot so out of whack it’s like discovering a dinosaur fossil on the moon.

The story follows Hal, who is about to inherit his father’s multi-million-dollar hotel chain after his untimely death. Before that, he wants to end his long-term, secret relationship with a dominatrix, Rebecca — something she had no clue was coming. What follows is a psychological game between the two, in a hotel room, where Rebecca seems to have the upper hand.

The screenplay is dominated by long conversations that take a while to make sense. But they’re entertaining, and above all, they are probes into the human mind and the lengths it will go to once the survival instinct kicks in.

For a film that was shot in just 18 days Sanctuary is hilarious, outlandish, unsettling, and jaw-dropping. Christopher Abbott and Margaret Qualley are brilliant in their roles. Most of the acting is shot in tight close-ups, and Qualley kills it whenever she’s on screen. Her range is truly a gift.

Make no mistake Sanctuary is not for everyone, but if you like absurdist fiction, mind benders, films that don’t fit into a specific genre, or ones that subvert genres, give this a go. At just 90 minutes, this is an intelligently written, brilliantly acted laugh riot that churns your stomach, leaves you in splits, and makes you question: What have I just watched?

Verdict:

IMDb rating: 6.2/10
My rating: 3.5/5

Sanctuary is streaming on JioHotstar in India.

***

About the author:

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

Mountainhead | Movie Review | Whatsonsidsmind

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 2 Min Read

Mountainhead begins with four tech giants meeting at a remote mountain mansion, owned by Souper or ‘Soup’, the poorest among them, in the wake of a global upheaval caused by a new generative AI, launched by Venis, the richest among them, who is also the richest man in the world. The quartet is completed by Jeff, another AI wonderkid, and the older Randall, a sort of mentor to all. Though the gathering is meant to rekindle old bonds between the self-proclaimed ‘Brewsters’, each arrives with his own agenda. As they attempt to make sense of the chaos unfolding outside, they also vie to shape the future of humanity, drawing on each other’s minds, ambitions, and secrets.

One of the most brilliant scenes in the film unfolds when Jeff questions Venis about the sectarian violence and genocidal attacks inadvertently triggered by his new generative AI. Ven responds with a disarming analogy: he recalls how, when people first saw a train on a movie screen, they ran out of the theatre in fear. But filmmakers didn’t stop making movies—they made more. “Show more,” he says, “until everyone realizes that nothing is that f**king serious. Nothing means anything, and everything is funny.”

This moment captures the essence of Mountainhead—its dark, absurdist satire and the way it confronts our current anxieties with a disturbingly casual shrug. It’s both chilling and hilarious.

Directed by Jesse Armstrong, the Emmy and Golden Globe-winning creator of Succession, Mountainhead moves with the pace of a thriller, though what unravels isn’t action, but intention. It delves into the twisted psyches of four tech geniuses, forced into a tense chamber drama where tolerance is the only currency left.

Despite its psychological weight, the film’s tone remains largely satirical throughout its under-two-hour runtime. There’s plenty to read between the lines, but Armstrong, who also wrote the screenplay, deftly keeps the atmosphere light, even as the story descends into its darkest moments. What stays consistent is the film’s keen study of powerful, hyper-successful individuals who have grown dangerously detached from reality—mirrored perfectly by the opulent, isolated retreat where they’ve chosen to gather.

Verdict:

In the midst of ongoing discussions about AI, who controls it, and whether we have a future with or despite it, this film is an essential watch.

You can watch Mountainhead on JioHotstar in India.

My rating: 3.5/5

***

About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

Wayanad Diaries | Banasura | Vythiri | Travelogue | YouTube Short

My family and I undertook a short trip to the picturesque hill station of Wayanad in Kerala last week. In this YouTube short I have tried to capture some of our experiences. This journey from Bangalore took us through 3 wildlife sanctuaries. Two of which were tiger reserves.

Please do have a look. (Click link)

YouTube Short

Thanks,

Sid

by whatsonsidsmind

Khauf Review: When Real Life Is the Real Horror

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 7 Min Read

(You can watch the YouTube review of this web series here – http://bit.ly/3GDQ0KK)

In my opinion, the scariest pieces of cinema are those that portray reality in imaginary worlds. While the horror genre offers the fluidity to blend the real with the unreal, it is often the stories grounded in real-world settings, characters, and societal decay that manage to terrify the most. These films give the audience the unsettling feeling that something from their familiar world has seeped into the imagined world of horror. This could be a room in an opulent house in Georgetown, Washington D.C., where a little girl is possessed by the devil himself (The Exorcist, 1973), or the remote Overlook Hotel in Colorado, with its bloody past and isolated winters, maintained by a lone caretaker (The Shining, 1980). Closer home, it could be a room in a government women’s hostel on the outskirts of Delhi, haunted by a ghost and steeped in everyday fears (Khauf, 2025).

In The Exorcist, while the central plot revolves around an exorcism within a single room, it is also the story of a mother willing to go to any lengths to save her daughter. In The Shining, though the Overlook Hotel becomes a sinister character in its own right, steeped in a violent past, the heart of the film lies in a man battling his own psychological demons—who ultimately succumbs to the hotel’s dark influence and turns against his family. In Khauf, a young woman from a smaller city in India, carrying the scars of a brutal sexual assault, comes to the capital in search of freedom, only to find that the suffocating male gaze offers none. She becomes easy prey for a ghost that haunts a hostel room, an evil spirit that feeds on her vulnerability.

It is through this lens—where horror emerges not just from the supernatural, but from the all-too-real fears rooted in our society, that I will be reviewing Khauf, perhaps one of the finest horror web series to come out of India in recent years.

The Story

Khauf centers around a young woman named Madhu (Monica Panwar), who escapes from Gwalior to be with her boyfriend in Delhi. Haunted by a traumatic past—she was brutally assaulted by a group of men—Madhu sees Delhi as a chance to leave those memories behind. But she soon realizes it’s not as easy as she hoped. The city’s constant male gaze feels like the ghost of her past, relentlessly following her.

Uncomfortable living in a flat shared by her boyfriend and his male friends, she moves to a hostel on the outskirts of the city. Only one room is available—the one that once belonged to a girl who reportedly died in an accident. The four other women on the floor harbor a dark secret. They are trapped by a sinister presence that won’t let them leave the hostel, and they believe the evil spirit resides in that very room. Fearing the spirit will possess Madhu and unleash terror on them all, they try to stop her from staying there.

But Madhu refuses to give in to their warnings. With no one else to turn to, the room is her only shot at survival.

Screenplay and Technical Aspects

Khauf weaves together multiple subplots that converge in the end. There’s Madhu’s central story, the individual backstories of the four hostel mates on her floor, and the mystery of the dead girl who once lived in her room. Alongside these, there’s the hostel warden’s friend—an alcoholic police officer, a woman who frequently visits the hostel to drink with the warden, while secretly searching for her missing son, whom she believes has fallen into the wrong hands. Adding to the mix is a mysterious hakim living in the dingy alleys of Old Delhi, who preys on the souls of vulnerable women to prolong his own life. All of these threads eventually tie into Madhu’s journey and play a crucial role in the climax.

As hinted earlier in my review, Khauf wouldn’t be half as terrifying without its real-life parallels. The series holds up a mirror to society in ways rarely seen in recent Indian storytelling, whether on OTT platforms or in theatres. It doesn’t rely on monologues or moralizing speeches. Instead, it quietly reveals the everyday reality of being a woman in Delhi—on buses, at workplaces, even in spaces presumed to be safe. Judgment, harassment, and constant surveillance are routine, and they carry consequences. This creates a toxic environment where crime festers.

The real-life monsters in Khauf far outweigh the supernatural ones. It’s this chilling parallel between the horrors of the real world and the supernatural that makes the show deeply unsettling, and at times, hard to watch.

That said, Khauf isn’t an edge-of-the-seat horror flick. It moves deliberately, simmering with tension, and landing its punches at the right moments. Some might call it a slow burn, but I never found it dull. The screenplay kept me anticipating something unexpected, and when those moments arrived, they were rewarding. Although, these aren’t your typical horror beats. But the series still delivers its share of jump scares, gore, and supernatural elements to keep horror fans engaged. Much of the credit goes to writer Smita Singh (Sacred Games, Raat Akeli Hai), cinematographer Pankaj Kumar (Tumbbad, Haider, Ship of Theseus), and production designer Nitin Zihani Choudhary (Tumbbad, Kalki 2898 AD).

The writing, for the most part, is engaging. While some critics have rightly called out the lore elements as unclear, these are rare missteps. Where Khauf truly shines is in the seamless blending of the real and the supernatural brought to life through striking imagery and meticulous execution. The sequencing of events and how they converge in the end is satisfying to watch.

The production design, in particular, sustains an atmosphere of dread even when scenes aren’t overtly grotesque. There’s a constant sense of gloom and impending danger—the hallmark of effective horror storytelling.

The Performances

Khauf wouldn’t be nearly as affecting without its stellar performances. The casting is pitch perfect. Apart from the menacing presence of Rajat Kapoor, a familiar face, the rest of the cast may not be household names, yet they carry the film with remarkable strength. Monica Panwar, as Madhu, delivers a standout performance, balancing vulnerability and quiet resilience with striking authenticity.

The supporting cast is equally compelling: Chum Darang as Svetlana, Geetanjali Kulkarni as Constable Ilu Mishra, Shalini Vatsa as the stern yet layered warden Gracie, Priyanka Setia as Rima, Rashmi Mann as Nikki, and Riya Shukla as Komal. Each of them brings depth and nuance to their roles, making the characters not only believable but deeply human.

Verdict

In an era where horror storytelling, whether on web or in theatres, often leans on tired tropes like jump scares, gore, folklore, and a parade of ghosts, goblins, witches, vampires, yakshas and yakshis, often diluted with humor or drowned in grotesquery, Khauf stands apart. It uses many of these familiar elements, yet tells an original, deeply human story, one that terrifies not because of what’s imagined, but because of how much it borrows from the real world.

It feels as if the true monsters of life have possessed the supernatural ones. And that’s what makes Khauf truly unsettling. It provokes thought, evokes empathy, and scares in equal measure.

For that, it absolutely deserves a watch.

Khauf is streaming on Amazon Prime Video in India.

IMDb rating: 7.6/10

My Rating: 4/5

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About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

My Movie Reviews are Now on YouTube! | Announcement | Whatsonsidsmind

Dear All,

Just barging into your feed to make a quick, small announcement. My film reviews are now available on my YouTube channel. I’ve chosen to do so to connect with a larger audience who prefer the visual medium. At the same time, I thought it’s a good way for them to be introduced to my blog. So hoping it works both ways.

So far I’ve uploaded two reviews; that of Adolescence and A Real Pain. Hoping to upload a lot more in the coming days. I am sharing the links to both these reviews below –

Adolescence – https://youtu.be/uIe2FT9t90U?si=tRQxfdgmF0v89DOj

A Real Pain – https://youtu.be/_enAzehioT8?si=dPuADHTKmOduxDqQ

Do check out these videos, and subscribe to my channel if you like what you see.

Thank you for your support as always.

Much love,

Sid

by whatsonsidsmind

Family, History and Heartache: Why A Real Pain Stays with You

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 3 Min Read

The problem with reviewing a film like A Real Pain is that it’s easy to get swept up in over-intellectualizing every aspect of it. In doing so, there’s a risk of missing the quiet simplicity the film also exudes. That said, it’s hard to put into words exactly what this film does to you as an audience.

The story begins at the airport, where David and Benji are about to board a flight to Poland. The brothers have planned a Jewish heritage tour, funded by money left to them by their late grandmother. Through this journey, they hope to reconnect with their Jewish roots and confront the horrors of the Holocaust that their grandmother survived. Their itinerary includes a visit to the home she once lived in and was forced to flee from during the war.

But beyond tracing their grandmother’s past, the brothers—once close—also hope to rebuild their own fractured relationship. Given their vastly different personalities, that seems like a near-impossible task.

From the outset, it’s evident that A Real Pain isn’t driven by plot. Written and directed by Jesse Eisenberg, (who also plays the role of David), the film has no dramatic twists or grand narrative arcs. Even as it takes the shape of a travelogue, the film resists the temptation of a sweeping, cinematic canvas. When the characters arrive at historically significant locations, the focus remains firmly on their personal reactions rather than the historical context—those details are mere passing references.

And yet, the screenplay remains compelling. It navigates a delicate spectrum of confusion, empathy, and detachment that the characters experience in the shadow of these haunted places. There is a lot of humor, but beneath all those funny lines and chaotic moments, there is something profound and deep. It’s the bedrock of the film and you get a sense of it from the very beginning.

In one of the film’s best scenes, while travelling first class, Benji is unable to reconcile the luxury they’re enjoying with the brutal history of those very tracks, once used to transport their ancestors to concentration camps. He suggests they move to economy class out of respect, but the others dismiss the idea, unwilling to share his discomfort. Frustrated, Benji exits the compartment in quiet protest.

This film, in terms of its acting performances, does not give a staged feel. It was fluid in a way that makes you question whether it’s a story that is unfolding or something that demands your immediate attention, for the realism of it all. It’s fiction at its best, when lies say very true things. For me, that was Kieran Culkin’s performance in this movie. He brought so much of himself into the film that I didn’t know how much was him and how much was the part he was playing.

On The Graham Norton Show, where both actors appeared together, Kieran revealed that Jesse cast him without having seen any of his work. Having known him somewhat, Jesse said he cast him based on his “essence.” This may sound bizarre—especially for a part he had originally written for himself, drawn from his own family history and a Jewish heritage trip he had taken years earlier.

However, after watching some of Kieran’s promotional interviews, his real-life persona feels remarkably similar to that of Benji. That said, he also admitted in those interviews that he wasn’t initially convinced about taking the role. But thankfully, for movie lovers, things fell into place. It couldn’t have been any other way—so far as the casting of Benji and David goes, both were perfect for their roles.

Kieran now has an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor to show for his efforts. The character of Benji is, without a doubt, the true standout of the film—dynamic, wild, and impossible to ignore. Eisenberg writes him with such finesse; he’s someone you both hate and love at the same time. Someone you don’t want to be, yet are easily enchanted by.

The way David navigates Benji’s chaotic presence is what makes A Real Pain such a deeply fulfilling watch. The backdrop of a troubled family Holocaust history gives the film its much-needed layers. But at its core, it remains very much a family drama—intimate, relatable, one that will stay with you.

IMDb rating – 7.1/10

My Rating – 4/5

A Real Pain is streaming on JioHotstar in India.

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About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

All rights of this review reserved by whatsonsidsmind.com

by whatsonsidsmind

Adolescence | Review | A Haunting Dive into the “Why” of a Crime | Netflix

Written by Siddhartha Krishnan | 4 Min Read

Adolescence is a hard-hitting British drama series that defies categorization, shifting genres across its four episodes. It begins as a police procedural, evolves into a social drama, delves into the realm of an investigative/psychological thriller, and culminates in a family drama. But it’s true novelty lies not in this fluidity, but in its multifaceted exploration of a difficult subject—examining it from every angle with unflinching depth. Equally striking is its execution, with masterful cinematography and meticulously crafted scenes that leave a lasting impact.

The miniseries wastes no time, opening with the arrest of 13-year-old Jamie Miller, accused of murdering his schoolmate—a girl his own age. The police claim to have enough evidence to charge him, thrusting his parents into a nightmare they never saw coming. They believe in their son’s innocence; in the values they instilled in him. This is where the contract is signed with the audience, by writers Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham, and what follows makes for some gripping cinema. Graham also co-creates the series, and stars as Jamie’s father. His performance is one of the highlights of Adolescence.

One of the series’ most striking feature is its use of single continuous shots—each episode, nearly an hour long, unfolds without a single cut. The sheer planning and precision required to pull off such a feat is staggering, but the payoff is undeniable. This technique immerses the audience completely, whether inside the Millers’ home, a police station, a school, or even a moving car. The cinematography heightens the urgency, drawing viewers deeper into the unfolding tension.

However, at times, the dialogue feels repetitive. This may be an intentional choice—adding to the realism and avoiding a staged feel—but in places, particularly in the second episode, it slows the momentum. A tighter edit could have sharpened the impact without losing the authenticity.

The third episode is the standout, centering on the tense interrogation of 13-year-old, Jamie (Owen Cooper) by psychologist Briony (Erin Doherty). It plays like a film in itself—raw, emotionally charged, and deeply engaging. Both actors deliver spontaneous, natural performances that heighten the episode’s intensity, making every exchange feel immediate and real.

It’s in this episode that Adolescence truly soars, unraveling its deeper intentions. When asked to classify the series, Erin Doherty cited writer Jack Thorne, saying, “It’s not a whodunnit but a whydunnit.” The show isn’t just about solving a crime—it’s about understanding the motivations behind it. The creators dig deep into the psychology of their characters, examining parenting, masculinity, sexuality, peer pressure, and the relentless need for validation among teenagers in the age of social media.

Adolescence deserves to be in the Emmy conversation next year across multiple categories. Watching it, I was reminded of Baby Reindeer, another British drama that swept the 2024 Emmys. Both series tackle difficult subjects with unflinching depth, refusing to look away. And like Baby Reindeer, Adolescence is not an easy watch.

Here, the prime accused—if we were to call this a crime drama—is a teenager. The devastation his family endures is harrowing, making parts of the series deeply unsettling. Yet, it ends on a note of hope, particularly in its exploration of parenting. It confronts generational trauma—how it seeps through unnoticed, despite our best efforts, shaping us in ways beyond our control.

With its powerhouse performances, gripping screenplay, and fearless honesty, Adolescence is essential viewing—especially for parents and teenagers.

Verdict:

IMDb rating – 8.4/10

My Rating – 4/5

Adolescence is now streaming on Netflix.

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About the author:

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

The False Promise of Power in a Patriarchal World | Essay on Women’s Day

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 3 Min Read

A discussion on gender equality and women’s rights is incomplete without acknowledging the 50% stakeholders in this debate—men. For they are not just participants but both beneficiaries and victims of the same oppressive system called patriarchy. If anyone in their right mind truly seeks to dismantle this system, they must take the bold step toward a more inclusive, honest conversation.

In my own experience, I have seen this drama play out in offices and homes, where much of the dialogue is mere lip service. Women are celebrated for their sacrifices, their ability to multitask, their emotional intelligence—yet how long will this rhetoric at homes and these hollow cultural programs in offices, designed to reinforce their “place,” continue? Women are awakening, at least those with access to opportunity. But men—men are the true losers here. They have failed to evolve, trapped in a system they believe serves them, when in reality, it robs them of their humanity. They are told they must not cry, must not express vulnerability. Their worth is measured only by their ability to earn, to take their rigid place at the head of the dinner table—the provider, the unshakable rock.

But this is a lie. A lie that has persisted for too long. Men know it, yet lack the courage to challenge a structure they believe works in their favor. And it is not just men who uphold this system. Women, too, are complicit—raising sons to believe they are gifts to the world, oppressing other women who are subordinate in this hierarchy. The truth is clear: this was never about gender alone. It was always about power. A power that sustains incompetent leaders, corrupt politicians, self-appointed gatekeepers—soulless figures who have traded their conscience for control.

And yet, the way forward is not just in recognizing oppression but in celebrating those who challenge it. There is an urgent need to amplify the voices of men who have chosen to break free, who have rejected the roles handed to them and become true partners—at home, at work, and in society. These men are not doing anything extraordinary. They are simply doing what is right in an equal, humane world. But human nature craves examples. People need to see others take the first step before they dare to follow. Women who demand equality must also recognize and speak of the men in their lives who have had the courage to embrace it. Change is contagious, but only when it is made visible.

In short, this nonsense must end. And it ends with you. You can choose to deny it, ignore it, close your door to it—but do so at your peril. Or you can choose to open that door, to open your mind, and reclaim the humanity stolen from both men and women. Do it not just for your daughters, but for your sons. Because a world that chains men to a false ideal of masculinity is just as broken as one that subjugates women. And no one—no one—wins in such a world.

Happy Women’s Day!

— Siddhartha Krishnan
(Author – Two and a Half Rainbows)

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About the author –

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).

by whatsonsidsmind

Unraveling the Father-Son Knot | The Mehta Boys – Review

Written by: Siddhartha Krishnan | 3 Min Read

Boman Irani’s directorial debut, The Mehta Boys, which he has co-written with Alexander Dinelaris, the Oscar winning screenwriter of Birdman, doesn’t feel like the work of a first-time filmmaker. A celebrated actor with a career spanning 25 years, Irani steps behind the camera to tell a story of a father and son navigating a complicated relationship. But aren’t all father-son relationships tricky? What sets this film apart in a genre well-explored in Hindi cinema? This is where the film’s sharp screenplay shines, offering a fresh perspective. The Mehta Boys is often funny but turns serious when it needs to, refusing to dilute its social commentary with humor.

When Boman Irani debuted as a Hindi film actor at the turn of the millennium, he didn’t look like a newcomer. Perhaps it was because he was already 40, bringing with him a wealth of life experience that shaped his performances. It’s something today’s young actors could learn from. This approach gave us unforgettable characters like Dr. Asthana (Munna Bhai M.B.B.S.), Kishan Khurana (Khosla Ka Ghosla), and Viru Sahastrabuddhe (3 Idiots), among many others. Now, at 65, he remains at the top of his game—both as an actor and, with The Mehta Boys, as a director.

The film opens with evocative shots of Amay’s home, played by an excellent Avinash Tiwary. His house, much like him, is flawed yet functional, holding itself together despite its problems. The first thing that stands out is the meticulous production design. Each room has a distinct personality, telling its own silent story. Much of the film unfolds within these walls, making the space almost a character in itself.

Another standout aspect of The Mehta Boys is its cinematography, which instantly reminded me of Birdman—not just in the way the camera moves, but in how light and color are used to heighten emotions. The camerawork is dynamic, adapting seamlessly to the film’s tonal shifts. In the chaotic, comedic moments, it moves swiftly, almost playfully. But when the film demands weight, the camera slows, locking into tight close-ups to amplify emotion before gradually pulling back to reveal multiple perspectives. There’s an old-school simplicity to the way scenes are framed, yet it blends effortlessly with modern techniques, ensuring that not a single moment feels dull.

But the true strength of The Mehta Boys lies in its performances. Boman Irani as Shiv Mehta, Avinash Tiwary as his son Amay, Puja Sarup as daughter Anu, and Shreya Chaudhry as Amay’s love interest, Zara—all are impeccably cast, delivering pitch-perfect performances. With the film relying heavily on tight and extreme close-ups, every expression had to land, and the actors rise to the challenge.

At its core, the film is an intense exploration of the father-son dynamic, where every scene carries weight. This makes the chemistry between Boman and Avinash crucial—and it crackles with energy. Yet, the most striking moment for me is Anu’s meltdown at the airport. As she realizes that neither her father nor her brother will budge, even in the face of crisis, her frustration erupts in a way that is agonizing, hilarious, and utterly human. It’s a scene that perfectly encapsulates the film’s emotional depth and sharp writing reminding me of earlier gems in this genre like Kapoor & Sons.

In an interview with ET Now, Boman Irani shared that The Mehta Boys doesn’t offer solutions to father-son conflicts—because that was never the film’s intent. Instead, it embraces the complexity of these relationships, capturing their highs and lows with honesty. And in doing so, it takes the audience on an emotional roller coaster. I laughed wholeheartedly. I cried just as much. I saw glimpses of my own relationship with my father—the love, the friction, the unspoken words.

But what lingers most is the realization that Boman himself never met his father, having lost him six months before he was born. And yet, he writes the character of Shiv Mehta with such depth, nuance, and style. That, more than anything, tells me this is a man who has truly lived and observed life. This is a stellar directorial debut by a brilliant actor.

Verdict:

IMDb rating – 7.3/10

My Rating – 4/5

The Mehta Boys is streaming on Amazon Prime Video.

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About the author:

Siddhartha Krishnan is the author of ‘Two and a Half Rainbows – A Collection of Short Stories’. An enthusiastic blogger he shares his articles, essays, travelogues, book and movie reviews on his blog (www.whatsonsidsmind.com).