When my mother heard Janhvi Kapoor speak Malayalam in Param Sundari, she said, “That’s how Tamilians in Kerala speak.” So I’m guessing Janhvi’s character in Param Sundari is meant to be Tamilian. She does say a line in Tamil at the beginning, which might be the clue.
Still, it’s odd that her ammavan (Renji Panicker) speaks flawless Malayalam, while his son Venu, who grew up in Kerala, speaks Malayalam with a Tamilian accent. Not exactly consistent. Maybe he picked it up from his best friend, Janhvi’s character?
You will have to make similar conclusions and cook up your own stories to stay at peace with several things in the movie.
What’s It About?
Param, a wealthy start-up enthusiast, heads to Kerala to prove to his father that his newly funded dating app is worth the investment. At a resort there, he meetsSundari, and a love story quietly begins to unfold.
Thoughts
If you ignore the stereotypes, the sardar friend’s racist jokes, and the painfully bad Malayalam, it’s actually not such a bad movie. The first word that catches you off guard is when they pronounce Alappuzha as “Aalapozi.” I’m not sure if it was intentional. But yeah, leave behind your brain while watching this one.
The real star, of course, is Kerala. My state has been beautifully captured from start to finish. So, kudos to the filmmakers for that.
Janhvi looks lovely and delivers a stronger performance than Sidharth Malhotra. He also looks way older than her in the movie.
What surprises me more than the terror attacks in India is the speed with which some Indians dismiss them as “false flag operations.” For instance, a look at the comments under Faye D’Souza’s Instagram post about the Delhi terror blasts shows several users mocking the incident and blaming the Indian government instead of the perpetrators. Many genuinely seem to believe it’s a political ploy to influence votes rather than an act of terror.
The “false flag” narrative isn’t new. It has surfaced after nearly every major terror attack in India. Even the 26/11 Mumbai attacks were, at first, misrepresented by some as an internal operation. The claim gained attention mainly because Ajmal Kasab, one of the attackers, wore a saffron thread on his wrist. Those spreading the theory strangely assumed such a thread could only belong to members of BJP or RSS. They overlooked the possibility that it might have been deliberately used to mislead investigators.
Ajmal Kasab with Saffron Thread on His Wrist
Kasab’s real plan, as later revealed, was to die appearing as a “Hindu” and thus shift suspicion away from Pakistan-based handlers, reinforcing the myth of “saffron terror.” Thankfully, due to the extraordinary courage and sacrifice of Assistant Sub-Inspector Tukaram Omble, Kasab was captured alive and later confessed to being a Pakistani national trained by terrorists.
Tukaram Omble
By then, however, the false-flag theory had already gained widespread circulation. Well-known public figures even released a book titled 26/11: RSS ki Saazish? that promoted the “false flag” theory surrounding the attacks.
Influential Indian Figures Promoting “26/11: RSS ki Saazish?” Book
The “false flag” narrative resurfaced after the Pulwama terror attack, when a suicide bomber from Jaish-e-Mohammed (JeM) drove an explosive-laden vehicle into a CRPF convoy in Pulwama, Jammu & Kashmir, killing 40 soldiers. Following the attack, some voices in Pakistan, including senior officials, suggested that India might have staged the incident to influence the upcoming 2019 elections. Commentators in India echoed similar theories online, framing the tragedy as politically motivated rather than acknowledging it as an act of cross-border terrorism.
Then came the recent Pahalgam attacks, where Pakistani media outlets and online commentators claimed that India had staged the incident to divert attention from domestic issues and influence elections. They described it as part of an alleged “Indian playbook” of false-flag operations. Soon after, similar talking points appeared in sections of Indian social media and commentary spaces.
In each case, claims of “false flag operations” lacked credible evidence and were primarily rooted in conspiracy theories first circulated in Pakistan and later amplified by certain opinion groups in India.
The Global “False Flag” Obsession
It’s worrying that many people in India tend to believe external narratives about terror attacks rather than trusting verified investigations at home.
This pattern might have been up for serious debate if it only happened locally, but the deflection from religious extremism appears to be a global trend. To cite a few examples:
The 9/11 attacks are still viewed by some as a “false flag” orchestrated by the U.S. or Israel to malign Muslims. This is a theory long disproved but still used by extremist groups to recruit followers. They thrive on anger, convincing vulnerable minds that violence is the only response to perceived oppression. In India, extremist recruiters have similarly exploited stories like the Babri Masjid while dismissing events like the Godhra train burning as conspiracies, weaving grievance into a tool for radicalization.
The October 7 attacks in Israel were also met with widespread conspiracy claims, framed as a false flag operation meant to discredit certain groups.
Likewise, criticism of regimes such as Iran’s leadership, the Taliban, or Hamas is often dismissed as Western propaganda. This is another form of deflection that prevents honest introspection.
Conspiracies Shield Extremists
It’s time to move past the overused “false flag” narrative.
Each time a terror attack is dismissed as a conspiracy, it insults the victims, weakens trust, and blurs the line between truth and propaganda. These baseless claims don’t protect anyone. They only embolden extremists and deepen divisions.
Real courage and national unity will come from confronting facts, condemning violence without bias, and demanding accountability from those who spread hate, no matter where it comes from.
Ending the false flag obsession is the first step toward restoring integrity in how we respond to terrorism.
I was craving to watch a slice-of-life drama. Something simple, not too heavy or filled with dread. I honestly thought Anuja would be intense, given how the synopsis sounded. Plus, it’s a Hindi short film that was an Academy Award nominee.
Now, why would I mention the Academy Award nomination like it’s a bad thing? I have my reasons.
To be honest, Oscar nominees have rarely worked for me. In Malayalam, we call such films “award padam.” The kind that feels too abstract or complex for ordinary viewers (like yours truly). There was a time in my life, long ago, when I pretended to enjoy such films just to seem intellectual in front of my then-partner. But I couldn’t keep up the act, and that image fell apart the moment that relationship ended. Now, it seems I’m making up for that lost time. All I want to watch are feel-good films.
So when I saw that Anuja was an Oscar nominee, it didn’t excite me enough to hit play right away. It actually made me hesitate. After all, the Oscars have a reputation for picking Indian films that focus on pain and poverty, what many call “poverty porn,” which does not fully represent what India is today.
Still, I decided to give it a chance.
What’s It About?
A 9-year-old girl works with her sister in a garment factory in India. Despite being naturally bright and curious, she doesn’t attend school because of financial struggles. And, truthfully, she doesn’t want to either. Her elder sister, however, recognizes her potential and dreams of giving her the education she deserves.
Thoughts
The film was a pleasant surprise. I loved it. It was just 22 minutes, but packed with emotions.
It tells the story of child labourers. They are presented not as helpless victims, but as resilient children who find joy even in hardship. The truth is, we often see others through our own lens and may view them as “helpless.” But for them, this is simply life. They know no other kind of life, and they’re doing their best with what they have. That’s what the movie captures so beautifully — life as they see it, not as we do.
It’s a social hierarchy. Someone wealthier might be looking at me with pity, thinking I’m suffering. Yet I’m making the most of what I have, because that’s the life I know. We suffer mostly when we lose something we once had, when we can compare the before and after, and we truly miss the before.
I’ve often felt that those not well-off often make the best of what little they have, which is why they find happiness in the smallest things, like a bag of jalebi, for instance. Anuja captures that spirit beautifully: “The present may not be bright, but we can strive for a better tomorrow.”
The film avoids moral preaching or lecturing. It’s simply about two sisters supporting each other in a harsh world.
The most moving part of the film is that Sajda Pathan, who plays Anuja, was once a child labourer in Delhi before being rescued by the Salaam Baalak Trust (SBT). She now lives at the NGO’s Day Care Center, founded in 1988 by filmmaker Mira Nair, who, interestingly, is also the mother of New York’s new Mayor, Zohran Mamdani.
Ananya Shanbhag also delivers an excellent performance as the elder sister, Palak.
I would definitely recommend the short film. Anuja is streaming on Netflix.
Like many, I found the movie’s name, Diés Iraé, tricky to pronounce. I’m quite sure I’m still saying it wrong. But the offbeat name adds to its charm. For those who don’t know, Diés Iraé is Latin for “Day of Wrath.” It’s a term from Christian theology referring to the day when souls are judged.
The first time I heard about Diés Iraé was when I went to watch Lokah. The trailer of the movie immediately captured my attention. The execution looked stylish, and Pranav Mohanlal looked good. I knew then that I had to watch this movie in a theatre.
What’s It About?
A young, wealthy man who lives life to the fullest begins experiencing strange supernatural events in his home after visiting the house of an ex-fling who was found dead in a well. The restless spirit haunting him seems furious for unknown reasons and determined to destroy his life.
Thoughts
Since Diés Iraé is a horror film, only adults were allowed inside the theatre. An ID card was required. The theatre I went to was almost empty, which I actually didn’t mind. It meant no one was around to make unwanted comments or jokes. This has become a real problem in many Kerala theatres. I faced this issue when I went to watch Bramayugam. I hope the film industry or theatre authorities take strict action against such behavior. If they want to attract more viewers, they must ensure a respectful environment. Otherwise, serious movie lovers will simply wait for the OTT release and enjoy the film peacefully at home.
Getting back to Diés Iraé, I wouldn’t call it mind-blowing. The special effects were impressive, though. Nothing looked fake or unintentionally funny. Pranav Mohanlal delivered a decent performance, and he looked great on screen, which helped balance out a few of his less convincing moments.
There are a few jump scares, so be prepared for that.
Overall, the story felt average. If you’ve seen a lot of horror films, this one might not surprise or scare you much. Still, the execution was solid, and the fact that a film of this scale and quality came from Kerala is definitely something to be proud of.
The creepiest part was seeing the line “inspired by true events.” I didn’t dare look up what those events were. Some things are better left unresearched if you want to sleep peacefully at night.
I would say Diés Iraé is a good one-time watch. At under two hours, it’s a quick and engaging film that keeps you entertained throughout.
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