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Let my tears be a testament to how much I love this film. I will not attempt to disassemble this film objectively. Simply put, I don’t see this as a film, I see it as a reaffirmation of my existence in this world.

I am a Manipuri Meitei — one who spent his whole life outside of Manipur. But I eat the food, speak the tongue, and feel the land. Having lived in Delhi for 17 years, and continuing elsewhere for the other part of my life, I am part of a vast Manipuri diaspora which continues to thrive across countries and continents. Having felt disconnected with my culture for a large part of my life, I’m glad to have had the privilege to hear one of the languages from my hometown being projected in a mainstream theatres.

Boong is bigger than film, it’s cemented itself as the film Manipuris will associate themselves with. A film which made them feel like their voices are heard, and their reflections are seen. It’s a loudspeaker which unapologetically celebrates Manipur to the entire world.

Coming to the film itself, it’s a great narrative and character-driven project. It doesn’t shy away from showing the flaws of the character, and Manipuri society as well. A normalised leering into a woman’s life (the mother), discrimination against non-ethnic Manipuris (like the Marwadis, etc.), the ostensible synergy between the people and revolutionaries/militants (naharol) — all of this is a story to many, and just another Monday for others. Apart from that, a lot of artefacts which make this film really Manipuri. Moreh, Chandel, Kangla, Ima Keithel, and of course, the love for Madonna, just like how Manipuris love other English artists and bands. It’s very grounded.

I wish they had gone deeper into discrimination against tribals, which would have been really relevant in today’s hellscape. Other than that, this movie is a love letter to my culture. Love it.

Manipuri Translation (by my father + help of mother)

Eina film du kayaam nungsijakhi haaibadudi eigee mittagi takhibaa pi duna taseng tasengna utkhibagum touwi. Waari du awoibara oidabara haiduna munna khankhide. Icham chamna haairabada, eina film oina loukhide, cinema hall manung duda eina eisu iramdam Manipur gi saruk ama oina taibang sida hingli haaibadu faojakhi.

Ei Manipur gi Meitei ni, ayaamba punshi gi saruk Manipur gi mapaanda leirakpa. Iramdam adudagi thaapna leirabsu, ei ima leibaak tugi chinjaak chaai, mafam dugi marol lolli, aduga lamdam dugi saruk amani haaibasu thamoi nungda faowi. Delhi da chahi 17 aduga mafam ateida chahi 3-4 leibana, taibang asigi mafam kayaada paak sanna leiriba Manipuri diaspora gi saruk amani eisu. Iramdam Manipur gi culture dagi matam saangna thaapnana leibana, thaaplaba mainstream cinema hall amada iramdam gi oiba marol amada film du yengbada hall dugi manung duda faaokhiba mawong du waahei na fongdokpada waatkani.

‘Boong’ icham chamba film amadagi henba paojel amani. Film aduna Manipuri singbu amaga amaga punsinna-nungsina leiminnabagi waakhanlon du ootli. Manipuri singgi khonjel mayaamna taai amadi makhoigi waakhanlon mayaamna khang-i haaiba si film aduna eikhoida faohanli. Mayaam gi mamaang da chaothokchaba yaaba film amani.

Film adumakki hairagadi, ‘Boong’ eikhoi gi society da thokliba thoudok-waathok khara amadi saktam khara waari oina mayaam da ootnaba hotnabani. Character singgi amadi Manipuri society gi asoi angaam khara adumak ootpada lotsinnaba hotnade. Mapuroiba thaapna leikhiba nupi (Boong gi mother) amada society na yengba mityeng, non-ethnic Manipuri singda (film duda yaaoriba sing) touba treatment (discrimination), leiriba miyaam ga ‘naharol’ (revolutionaries) singga loinariba mawong-matou, pumnamak ootpa waari ni. Adubu mee khara amadadi mahao yaodraba insaang mathel, boring churaba thoudok-waathok oina oorambasu yaai. Khudingmak naakal amada thamlaga, yaaoriba character sing, ootliba scene macha-macha sing, khudam oina panlabada, Kangla, Ima Keithel, thabal chongba, Moreh, Chandel, amadi Manipuri sing gi western music (artists and bands su) ta thawai yaojaba kayaabu ootpa oina Madonna da ngaojaba Boong gi mapa (father), mayaam sina society gi makhal mathel kayaabu yenglibasingda ootnaba hotnei. Yamna fajana taasin khomjinna saagatli waari du.

Matek amada khankhi, Manipur da tribal singna faoriba ‘discriminatory’ oi haaibagi mataang da khittang gasu ootlamladi haaina, maru oina kaanglup amaga amaga gi marakta houjik-houjik thokliba paamdaba waathok-laanthok singdu khanluraga. Amabu oire amabu oire, ‘Boong’ haiba film asi eigee culture da ijaba nungsi chithi amagumbani. Khutnungsi amani !!

Ek vakt tha jab campa cola humare nazron se kaafi door chale gya tha. Saalo baad, abh har dukaan ki daraajon mein uska pesh aana ho gya hai. Jaise poorani yaadein dhadkanon mein vaapis shaamil aane aagye ho.

For your special friend. Served Chilled.

As someone who has been pursuing photography for over a decade, this movie completely swept me off my feet. There’s one thing about practicing photography as a hobby as I do, then there’s the flip side, earning your bread and butter by clicking memories for strangers near India Gate or Taj Mahal. Nawazuddin Siddiqui’s opening dialogue to Sanya Melhotra’s character really struck something deep within me,

Saalon baad jab aap ye photo dekhogi, aapko aapke chehre par yahi dhoop dikhaye degi, aapke balon par ye hava, aur aapke kaanon mein ye hazaaron logo ki aavazein… hamesha ke liye sabh chale jaayega…

For the last couple of years, this has remained my philosophy towards photography. At its very centre, the point of taking photos has always been an attempt to hold on to history, we are not what we are without all the things we have done, all the mistakes we have made, all the feelings we have felt. A photograph is a silent still of remembrance, a celebration of our existence as tangled anthologies of stories, relationships, and fleeting moments. A way of refusing to let the cogs of time have their final word.

I loved Melhotra’s performance. This introspection Meloni goes through, understanding what she desires from life, the blunt realisation of a blind path she’s been following, conflicting with the very dogmas she has been growing up within felt terribly tender. The subtle metaphors you see, her talking about Campa (her innocent childhood), the rats in the theatre (embodied discomfort in the rural setting she now ponders about), and the stomach ache (imposed restrictions and expectation by family reacting with her very being) — I really loved the progression in her character. As a person who has lived in an urban setting throughout my life, sometimes I also catch myself daydreaming of a slow, quaint life tucked between the hills in the valley. Rose tinted lenses. Privileged, touché.

The gentle romance between Rafi and Miloni is just why I love Bollywood in measures. Reminiscent of the dynamic in Lunchbox, which also starred Siddiqui, I like when love doesn’t need to find itself in proclamations and promises. It can be two people learning about themselves, and each other as well. Despite their difference in class, religious, and circumstance, they manage to understand each other in silent contracts. Hand to god, we don’t even need to call it love, this is just a deeply human bond which I find precious. Maybe love, maybe not. These are veritable links which make humanity so endearing.

I wish one day, my photos can evoke such an emotion. Maybe between two people other than me, my photo perhaps lights a candle which never burns out and brightens their lives in whatever capacity. That’s the point, and has always been.

The decision to take a different route vis-a-vis the original book was one of the most spectacular decisions taken in adaptation history.

Throughout the film, we are exposed to various creatures. Acid spitting spiders, flying monsters, tentacular beasts, and ginormous behemoths strolling on the roads. But this is not even the scary part. The much more unsettling element, as the movie title says, is the mist. A fog which extends its domain to every square inch outside the store which obfuscates everything outside. What you can’t see is far more dangerous than what you can see.

The ending is such a curveball, possibly one of the best turns I have seen in a bit. I would say this rivals the ending of Final Destination 5.

You’re not meant to feel sorry for somebody as bigoted, indoctrinated, institutionalized, and hateful as Derek. Life may deal you terrible circumstances, but you always have a choice in how you respond to them. I don’t think this film is trying to make us sympathetic, nor is it an apologist story seeking absolution.

At its core, it’s a story about change.

As a minority in my own country, I don’t expect anyone to forgive Derek, or anyone who belongs to movements like the KKK. History matters just as much as the present, and some sins can’t simply be washed away with even the holiest of waters. If you think about it, 1990s wasn’t even that long back. You can’t simply forget something which starkly feels like yesterday, people doing nazi salutes and brandishing swastikas. But people do change, and that change is something we have to acknowledge, even if forgiveness never follows.

Edward Norton’s performance is phenomenal. He has a remarkable ability to portray deeply disturbed characters whose psychological wounds manifest in destructive ways for those around him. What unsettled me most was realising that Derek isn’t an exaggeration. For many people living in conservative backwaters and extremist spheres, he is very much a reality. So much suffering exists simply because human beings crave power, control, and someone to blame.

Organisations built on hate and vitriol. Brotherhoods formed to deepen divisions. Murders committed in the name of protecting one’s own community.

What a fucking ironic world.

America Ferrera’s DEBUT film being such a bold piece on society is a remarkable feat. At just 17, playing a role challenging the abhorrent disgusting expectations imposed on women, Ana Garcia lives a fictional tale which is reality for many women spanning continents and countries.

It's a sharp critique on several arsenic-like postulates — the obsession on a woman’s virginity, inordinate pressure on their marriages, vitriol around physiques, and finally, narrowing down to a deliberated repressive system built for women to propagate regardless of their own loss. Carmen, the mother, is the perfect agent of this system, fanatically scattering in an attempt to remain sane in this system where her worth is dictated by her capacity to marry, bear children, and serve men. Her perception of the world is confined to her community and family, she doesn’t understand outside of this isolated system, and instinctively tries to save her daughters from the outside world. Real Women Have Curves anyways is a statement I agreed wholeheartedly with. But as a film, I would recommend to anybody who likes a down to earth slice of life. I love to see a woman win.

P.S. WATCH SUPERSTORE GO FERRERRAAAAA

This film’s a metaphor, on top another metaphor, which is then riding on one more. This stuff can be applied to anything, and everything. Nothing is too simple, neither too complex, and be all of that as once.

Luce, while being a serrated commentary on the African American socio-cultural terrain, at its centre remains a jab at stereotypical expectations from minorities in any country. You are expected to be something, trained to reach a point, as Harriet Wilson says, you’re put in a box. Ironically, if we take a gander outside this box, we see the Edgar’s in an even bigger box, where they are expected to fulfil the responsibility of white foster parents, emphasis on white. A perennial sense of proving stigmas wrong and an unfettered set of eyes raised on every possible lie.

Harrison’s acting was impeccable. Throughout the film, I could never ascertain his innocence or guilt. In equal parts, he looked naive and conniving. Sort of a wolf and sheep hybrid.

Also, Luce’s Theme composed by Ben Salisbury motivated me to watch this film as I randomly stumbled upon it on a streaming platform. I have to say, it suits his character like a sock. It sounds neither cheerful nor sad. It’s somewhere sandwiched between being somber and emancipating.

Some work of art.