An Ode to Feminichi Fathima

Feminichi Fathima is a Malayalam movie I had been waiting to watch for a long time. The film received strong appreciation at several film festivals. Many critics also spoke highly of it in their reviews. Now that it has finally released on OTT, the wait feels worth it. After watching the film, I can say it truly lives up to the praise it received.

The movie is a bold and thoughtful effort by director Fasil Muhammed to explore feminism from the perspective of a Muslim woman. This is a refreshing shift in Indian cinema, where feminist narratives are often shown through a cultural Hindu lens. Films like The Great Indian Kitchen (Mrs. in Hindi) and Thappad shaped much of that earlier conversation. Against that backdrop, this film feels timely and necessary. It adds a new voice to discussions on gender, faith, and everyday patriarchy.

What’s It About?

Fathima is married into a conservative and deeply religious family in the Malappuram district in Kerala. Her husband is a usthad (a religious leader) who expects his household to follow every rule without question. Life in the home is seen only through a strict, conservative lens.

Trouble begins when their young son wets the mattress. Fathima cleans it and leaves it outside to dry, but a dog later urinates on it. Since dogs are viewed as ritually impure, her husband reacts with anger and disgust. What follows is Fathima’s quiet struggle to fix the situation, facing resistance at every step.

The film makes a strong point that a woman in religious clothing can also be a feminichi (a slur often used by Malayalee misogynists to dismiss feminists).

Thoughts

Shamla Hamza and Kumar Sunil deliver standout performances. Shamla Hamza, in particular, is remarkable throughout the movie. It is hard to believe this is only her second project, after 1001 Nunakal, released in 2022. She performs with the ease and control of a seasoned actor. Her expressions carry much of the film’s emotional weight. Shamla winning the Kerala State Film Award for Best Actress feels well deserved. The storyline is fresh and quietly rebellious, which makes her performance even more powerful.

In many ways, the film feels braver than other feminist movies. Dissent is rarely encouraged in conservative Muslim families, which makes this narrative more powerful. The story shows how questioning norms itself becomes an act of courage. That is what sets this Malayalam feminist film apart. It opens space for conversations that are often silenced. Ideally, it will inspire more Feminichi Fathimas to speak up and stand for their rights.

Even though the subject is heavy, the movie never becomes overwhelming. It avoids melodrama and keeps emotions grounded. Light comedy is woven into the narrative. This balance makes the film feel surprisingly breezy. The pacing is tight and engaging throughout. You can easily watch the full 1.5 hours in one sitting without needing a break.

I would call this movie a must-watch for anyone interested in meaningful Malayalam cinema. Feminichi Fathima is now streaming on Manorama Max. You can also watch it via Amazon Prime with a Manorama Max subscription. English subtitles are available.

Why ‘The Girlfriend’ Left Me Thinking About Parenting and Love

I started watching the Telugu film The Girlfriend with low expectations. I assumed it would be yet another romantic drama that glorifies toxic relationships and emotional manipulation in the name of love. To my surprise, the movie took a more thoughtful and layered route.

Minor spoilers ahead for context

The Girlfriend doesn’t just explore unhealthy love. It also dives into toxic parenting and how childhood conditioning shapes adult behaviour. The female lead is quiet, agreeable, and used to shrinking herself. The film makes it clear that her personality isn’t random. Her upbringing trained her to feel guilty for wanting space, choices, or independence. So when she picks a controlling partner, it feels strangely familiar to her. She’s not frightened of it at first, but she faces a tinge of uncertainty throughout. She tries to treat her partner’s behaviour towards her as normal because she has spent years adjusting to her father’s controlling behaviour. But deep down, there’s a quiet discomfort she can’t ignore. Something feels off, and her instincts begin to push back. This duality is what makes the character so different. This push and pull that many of us have experienced in our own relations with others who are not right for us.

The male lead, on the other hand, is aggressive, impulsive, and driven by ego. He worships Virat Kohli, maybe because he admires the cricketer’s aggressiveness and his devotion towards his wife, Anushka Sharma. He has a charming personality and enjoys a lot of attention. People around him like him, and he knows it. He’s used to getting what he wants, even in friendships. His behaviour reflects a narcissistic mindset where his needs come first, and empathy barely exists. Yet he remains popular, which feels very realistic. In real life, people like him often get the benefit of the doubt because their confidence and charm make them likable, even when behind closed doors, they’re not. This is why it’s often hard for someone with a narcissistic partner to justify leaving. People around them struggle to believe anything is wrong. The scene where he delivers that long, dramatic monologue in front of everyone when she ends the relationship is unforgettable and true to life. It’s an attempt to stage himself as the victim, even when he himself was the one in the relationship with the problematic dynamic.

When the movie shows the male lead’s mother, the pattern becomes clear. She mirrors the heroine’s personality. Anxious. Passive. Always accommodating. His father dominated the household, and his mother absorbed the behaviour without protest. In his partner, he doesn’t just see love. He sees a repetition of his family dynamic. In his own dysfunctional world, this is the definition of love.

This is what makes the film interesting. Many romantic movies in Indian cinema focus only on the lovers. But The Girlfriend highlights how family culture, parenting style, and generational trauma influence relationships. It reminds you that behaviour has context.

It made me think of my own past. My ex-husband had a similar attitude at home. I remember watching him take all his mother’s freshly washed clothes and throw them outside the house, onto the dirt-filled ground, just because she left them drying near the house’s entrance. She didn’t scold him. She didn’t even react. She simply smiled and picked them up to wash again. She later told me she was once abandoned on the roadside at night by her husband after an argument. She narrated it casually, as if it were normal. That’s when I understood why her son expected unquestioning loyalty and forgiveness from his own partner, me.

Watching the movie felt personal because it portrayed something many Indian families silently live with. Not abuse in the usual cinematic sense, but the subtle cycle of fear, guilt, silence, and acceptance.

I liked The Girlfriend mainly because of how honestly it handled the parenting angle. The performances were solid, especially from Rashmika Mandanna and Dheekshith Shetty. Their chemistry felt natural, and the relationship dynamics never felt exaggerated or forced. The emotional tension, confusion, fear, and hope all felt real. It’s rare to see an Indian movie explore love, trauma, and family influence with this level of subtlety. If you enjoy character-driven cinema with emotionally complex and layered characters, this one is worth watching.

The Girlfriend is streaming on Netflix and runs for 2 hours and 18 minutes.

I Watched Homebound… and Ended Up Thinking About India Beyond the Film

I waited a while before watching Neeraj Ghaywan’s Homebound on Netflix. Even with glowing reviews and friends urging me to watch it, I knew it wouldn’t be an easy experience. It’s heavy in more ways than one, because the film doesn’t just explore caste discrimination, it also shines a light on the prejudice faced by Muslims in India. So from the beginning, you know you’re stepping into something intense and uncomfortable.

Neeraj Ghaywan holds an important place in Indian cinema as he’s one of the very few Dalit directors who publicly acknowledge his Dalit identity. As viewers, most of us don’t sit and think about a filmmaker’s caste or religion when watching a movie. But the uncomfortable truth is that opportunities in the film industry still seem to be uneven. If he is the first Dalit filmmaker in decades because of gatekeeping rather than lack of talent, then that says a lot about how deep systemic bias still runs in India, even in an artistic platform like the film industry. This is something the film industries across India need to acknowledge and work on.

As expected, the story in Homebound was heartwrenching. It’s based on a real incident, which sadly doesn’t come as a surprise. The film also draws inspiration from the Bhim-Meem idea, a political expression that promotes Dalit-Muslim unity, adding another layer of depth and context to its narrative.

For me, the most heartbreaking scene was when Ishaan’s character, a young Muslim boy, is accused of being Pakistani after an India vs Pakistan cricket match. That moment was infuriating and hard to sit through.

At the same time, I feel Indian films need to move beyond the usual “General Category vs Dalit” and “Hindu vs Muslim” framework when addressing oppression. Recent incidents, including the honour killing of a Dalit man by an OBC family because he dared to love their girl, show that reality is much more complex in India, and discrimination doesn’t come from one direction. It exists across castes and religions. Dalit Christians, Pasmanda Muslims, and many others face layered forms of exclusion, yet these conversations rarely enter mainstream media or pop culture.

I recently spoke to someone from the Yadav community who felt that Yadavs should be getting more opportunities than others in Bihar. It surprised me, because it shows how deeply caste identity shapes expectations, even among groups that aren’t “upper caste.” It’s even sadder to see communities that once faced discrimination now repeating the same mindset toward those they see as lower in the hierarchy. Many people assume caste hierarchy is a simple top-to-bottom structure, but in reality, it behaves more like overlapping layers of status, power, and regional identity.

I also think about the discrimination that exists within minority communities. My neighbour, a very liberal Muslim woman in Kerala, once told me that some of her extended family members won’t eat food cooked by non-Muslims. So who addresses that side of prejudice?

If we want a more equal and united India, we need to acknowledge and call out all forms of discrimination. But if someone tries to make a film exploring other angles, it often gets labelled propaganda or agenda-driven. That makes honest conversation difficult.

We’ve seen similar themes in films like Dhadak 2 this year, and even the first Dhadak explored the same kind of social divide. Something that stood out to me across movies in this space was the prominent placement of Ambedkar’s photograph. It’s a small detail, but it says a lot. Ambedkar himself is a layered and complex figure. His critique was not limited to Hinduism, and he questioned multiple belief systems with the same sharpness. But that side of him rarely enters public discussion, because even many of his admirers seem hesitant or defensive about acknowledging it.

Many of us are ready to recognise discrimination against Muslims and Dalits, and those conversations are important. But there should also be space to talk about other traumatic histories like the Kashmiri Pandit exodus without being dismissed or judged. Empathy and understanding shouldn’t stop at one group. If injustice matters, it should matter universally.

This isn’t a rant. Just a hope that our films, stories, and discussions grow braver and more layered. Because India isn’t simple. It’s diverse, complicated, emotional, and full of uncomfortable truths. And storytelling feels meaningful when it reflects that reality rather than just one slice of it.

Rohit Saraf Feels Like Old-School Romance and I Love It

I often find myself missing the old Bollywood romance era. Films by Yash Chopra or early Karan Johar had a kind of magic that is hard to find today. The lead pairs had real chemistry, the kind that made you feel every emotion with them. When they looked at each other with misty eyes, you felt like you were falling in love too.

But in many new-generation films, that spark seems lost. I don’t know whether it’s the acting, the writing, or the shift in filmmaking trends. Modern romance feels rushed, predictable, too dark, melancholic, or sometimes just flat. The warmth, passion, and emotional storytelling that defined classic Hindi cinema is fading, and I genuinely miss it.

In today’s film landscape, Rohit Saraf feels like a breath of fresh air. He brings back that soft, believable romance many of us grew up loving. One thing that stands out about him is his effortless chemistry with his co-stars.

My favorite project of his isn’t even a Hindi film. It’s the Tamil romance Kamali From Nadukkaveri, where his performance and chemistry with the lead actress, Anandhi, is genuine and sweet. I would also suggest watching his earlier series on Zee5 titled Woh Bhi Din The. He filmed it when he was much younger. The emotional connection between the characters feels very real. Also, let’s not forget his impeccable chemistry with Pearle Maaney in Ludo, which remains one of my favourites.

In Sunny Sanskari Ki Tulsi Kumari, Rohit Saraf continues that image of the ideal romantic partner. His chemistry with Janhvi Kapoor feels natural and much stronger compared to the chemistry between the main lead pair. Honestly, their scenes had more warmth and emotional pull. I found myself wishing the makers had focused on that storyline instead of pushing the romance between Janhvi and Varun Dhawan. It felt like the more organic love story was sitting right there, but never fully explored.

Personnally, I feel Rohit Saraf deserves more recognition for keeping that old-school romantic charm alive.

Maybe it’s time filmmakers start looking for the right lead pair for Rohit Saraf. If they get that pairing right, many of us women could finally relive the era of Kajol and Shah Rukh Khan or Aamir Khan and Juhi Chawla. Those iconic pairs made romance feel real, soft, and unforgettable.

A couple with that kind of natural chemistry is missing in today’s Hindi films, and audiences like me are definitely craving it.

Co-Ed Season 1 Review: A Warm, Surprising Gem That Won My Heart

It is by chance that I stumbled on the Co-Ed series on Amazon MX Player. The algorithm showed the trailer to me and I thought I would give it a try. I wasn’t expecting much but I was in for a surprise.

Co-Ed looks like a simple school drama at first, but it quickly turns into a lively mix of humour, friendship, and small twists that keep you curious. The writing feels fresh, and the young cast brings an energy that makes every episode, lasting around 20-30 minutes, easy to watch. I found myself hitting the next episode button without even thinking.

What’s It About?

Two twins step into a new chapter when their all-boys and all-girls schools merge to form a co-ed campus. The boy is nervous about sharing space with girls for the first time, while his sister walks in with full confidence. As they try to adjust to this sudden shift, their parents are also dealing with their own set of challenges at home. The mix of teenage chaos and family moments gives the series a relatable, everyday charm that keeps you curious about what happens next.

Thoughts

Co-Ed Season 1 took me by surprise. I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much.

Every actor in the series delivers a heartfelt performance. Honestly, they outshone many big names I watched this year. That says a lot. You slip into the world of the characters so easily that their joys and troubles feel like your own. You laugh with them and you end up tearing up with them too.

The parents in the story add another layer of emotion. Their struggles feel raw and real. I could sense the mother’s pain as she tries to hold everything together while staying proud of her small business. The question is, does her family see the same value in it? On the outside, the parents look like the perfect couple who split chores and support each other. But life is rarely that simple. It is often the quiet moments, the unsaid thoughts and the tiny frustrations that shape a home. Co-Ed captures all of this with surprising depth.

Rajeshwari Sachdev, Varun Badola, Adrija Sinha, Vedant Sinha, and Stuti Sahijwani are impressive in their respective roles. They complemented each other perfectly.

Shows like Co-Ed deserve a lot more attention. Viewers who enjoy warm, slice-of-life stories often find these gems by luck, not because they are promoted by popular reviewers.

For me, this one is a must-watch. You can stream it for free with ads on Amazon MX Player.

Netflix Movie Spotlight: Baramulla

What defines horror? We often think of ghosts, possessed souls, or strange creatures with no clear form. Yet I realized there’s another type of horror that hits harder. The ones that combine these supernatural ideas with the harsh truths of real life. This is a type of blend that creates an impact, which stays with you long after the movie is over. This is where Baramulla is about.

What’s It About?

Baramulla opens with a policeman who moves to Kashmir and stays in an old house filled with secrets. He is there to investigate the disappearance of children in the area. Strange events start to unfold at once. The elder daughter senses a foul, “dog-like” smell in the house, even if there are no dogs. The caretaker carries a plate of food every day to a locked room. What lies behind these mysteries? Why are children vanishing? These questions drive the heart of the story.

Thoughts

I can’t, unfortunately, share everything I felt without giving away the main plot. Since I wanted to share my thoughts in full, I placed them in a separate “Spoilers Ahead” block after this section. You can skip it if you prefer to avoid spoilers.

Baramulla left me with many emotions. I was genuinely amazed by how the team crafted it.

The movie tries something that Indian cinema, to my knowledge, hasn’t attempted before in a horror movie. That is, blending the past and the present into a story that’s rooted in historical events. It reminds you that horror has layers. It’s not only about the unknown, but also the known. The horror of trust turning into betrayal. The horror of being dismissed or gaslit. The horror of violence, both mental and physical. Baramulla captures all of this with sharp clarity.

The performances are strong across the board. Personally, I would say it’s a must-watch.

Baramulla is now streaming on Netflix.

Spoilers Ahead

I felt emotional through many scenes. The acting was powerful and honest. The pain never felt exaggerated.

By now, you probably know that the film draws from the suffering Kashmiri Hindus faced in the late ’80s and ’90s. Many cast members are Kashmiri Hindus who had to flee their homes. Manav Kaul is one of them. He left Kashmir when he was in grade 4. He moved on to become a competitive swimmer in his late teenage years and participated in state and national-level championships. He has more than 14 national medals in swimming to his credit.

The end scenes also show Sanjay Suri, which is befitting, since his father was killed by terrorists in Srinagar when Suri was just 19. He moved to Delhi after that and became a known face in the film industry.

The producer and writer, Aditya Dhar, who is also Yami Gautam’s husband, is a Kashmiri Pandit. He has been using his craft to share Kashmir’s story with care and technical prowess.

Some Kashmiri Pandit celebrities, like Kunal Khemu, have chosen not to explore their past, and that is their personal choice. In an interview with Smita Prakash, he said he doesn’t know much about that period, even though his own family lived through it.

I feel it’s important for us to understand our history so we don’t repeat old mistakes. Stories like these should be passed from one generation to the next. My only regret is not asking my grandfather about his experiences—how Kerala felt during the Indian freedom struggle, and what life was like then. Those anecdotes have been lost forever, as he did not pass on the stories to his children as well.

It’s remarkable that so many Kashmiri Hindus who had to flee the valley are using art to express their experiences instead of resorting to violence. Their goal is empathy and understanding, something they were denied for a long time, not provocation. Choosing storytelling over violence is admirable, especially in a world where violence is often justified in the name of resistance.

There are also a few Kashmiri Hindus with left-leaning views who defend problematic groups and take part in “Free Kashmir” sloganeering, similar to how a very small number of non-Zionist Israelis speak in ways that don’t reflect the wider population.

Most Kashmiri Hindus (and some Kashmiri Muslims) have appreciated the movie. However, left-leaning Hindus are also criticizing the movie for “propaganda,” even though the events have been well documented. Films that depict and educate the viewers on crimes against Muslims in India are welcomed, while films showing crimes against Hindus are often dismissed as Islamophobic, nationalist, or propaganda. This imbalance is where many activists struggle. They accept one truth but not the other.

People like me have slowly stepped out of that mindset to face the whole truth.

It may take a while, but I really believe the truth will eventually reach wider acceptance sooner or later. And the stories can’t stop until the pain is finally acknowledged. They need to be told, retold, and carried forward. Only then will they finally find the place they deserve.

What’s It About?

Thoughts

What’s It About?

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What’s It About?

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**Spoilers Ahead**

Spoilers Ahead