A friend had recommended Beef Season 1 to me. But when I started watching, Beef Season 2 automatically played, and I didn’t realize it until much later. By then, I was already invested in the story, so I just continued watching.
And honestly, I liked it.
At its core, Beef Season 2 feels like a commentary on human greed and our constant desire for more. Almost every character is flawed, driven by personal ambition, self-interest, or the need to protect what they have. Nobody is entirely good or bad, which makes the series closer to life.
One of the standout moments for me was a powerful dialogue by Chairwoman Park about relationships in the age of capitalism. It was one of those scenes that makes you pause and think. The show is filled with similar thought-provoking conversations that explore status, wealth, ambition, and the choices people make in search of success.
It’s worth a watch. Streaming on Netflix.
SPOILER ALERT: Stop reading here if you plan to watch the series.
The ending featured a wheel, which immediately caught my attention. Curious, I looked it up and discovered that it represents the Buddhist Wheel of Life, or Samsara.
In Buddhism, the wheel symbolizes the endless cycle of human existence, where desires, attachments, and actions keep people trapped in repeating patterns.
The wheel depicts how the younger generation eventually slips into the same status-driven lifestyle they once criticized. Despite judging the choices of those before them, they end up chasing many of the same things. It reinforces the idea that while the players may change, the cycle of ambition, compromise, and betrayal continues.
In that sense, the ending of Beef Season 2 suggests that human nature remains remarkably consistent, no matter how much the world changes around it.
I started watching Off Campus because of all the social media hype surrounding the series. It took me almost two weeks to finish it, but honestly, that is how I watch almost every show these days.
In fact, it is not limited to web series alone. I often break movies into 30-minute sessions and watch them over several days like a series. I used to think it was because my attention span had become shorter. But then I watched both parts of Dhurandhar, which were over three hours each, in the theatre without feeling bored for a second. That made me realize the issue probably is not my attention span. The story simply has to hook me enough.
Anyway, back to Off Campus.
One thing I appreciated about this Amazon Prime series is that it fully embraces the campus drama setting and focuses on the lives of young adults. That said, I found it a little difficult to relate to the “college student” aspect because most of the cast looked quite grown-up and remarkably sorted out for their age.
As someone who belongs firmly to the K-drama enthusiast camp, I also struggled a bit with how physical the relationships felt compared to the emotional depth I am used to seeing in Korean dramas. The show does explore trauma, vulnerability, and personal growth, but it never quite reaches the level of empathy and layered storytelling that many K-dramas excel at. Because of that, the series did not emotionally move me as much as I expected.
At the same time, I completely understand why Off Campus has resonated with younger audiences. Beneath the romance, it talks about important themes like dealing with complicated feelings, open communication, consent, emotional support, and empathy. These may sound basic, but they are often easier said than done.
Personally, I enjoyed the friendship between Hannah and Allie even more than some of the main romantic storylines. The scene where Hannah finally chooses to share her story with Allie was an absolute tearjerker for me. Truly, blessed are those who have a friend like that in their lives.
I also found Allie’s romantic arc far more nuanced and interesting. She desperately wants to prove she can be alone without using relationships as a crutch and, in the process, makes some questionable decisions. Honestly, that felt very relatable because most of us have done our fair share of nonsense while trying to convince ourselves we have everything figured out.
Her confusion is what makes the storyline compelling. She has a partner who is not a bad person by any measure, but he is not quite the right person for her either. That grey area, where nobody is necessarily wrong yet things still do not feel right, makes for a much more engaging relationship story. Mika Abdalla aces the role. Her resemblance to the Indian actress, Mahima Chaudhry, is also uncanny.
For me, the overall vibe of Off Campus felt like a blend of 13 Reasons Why and Beartown. Because of that, it did not feel particularly fresh or groundbreaking. A quick Google search tells me that the Off Campus books were published around the same period as Beartown, and some even earlier. Still, my point is simply that the storyline felt familiar to me.
Overall, I think Off Campus is a decent one-time watch if you enjoy young adult romance. It may not have offered anything entirely new, but it was engaging enough to keep me watching.
Off Campus is currently streaming on Amazon Prime Video.
I recently watched Do Deewane Seher Mein on Netflix. Since it’s backed by Sanjay Leela Bhansali, I was naturally curious. We hardly get old-school romantic movies anymore, the kind where love feels simple, and tradition is not mocked. That’s also what pushed me to check out Bada Naam Karenge on Sony Liv, created by Sooraj Barjatya.
If you’ve grown up watching Barjatya and Bhansali films, both these productions will feel familiar in a comforting way. At a time when romance on screen often leans heavily into physicality, these stories bring back themes like family, matchmaking, and mutual respect. They are the kind of feel-good watches you’d pick for a relaxed weekend.
Coming back to Do Deewane Seher Mein, the story revolves around two individuals dealing with their own insecurities and how those insecurities affect their relationship. The female lead struggles with her appearance, shaped by years of comments and comparisons, especially with her sister. That part felt very real to me. Growing up, I was the “ugly duckling” in my family too. I had thick glasses, was painfully shy, and very thin. It was only in my 20s that I began to fit into what society considers “good-looking.” Even now, compliments feel a bit superficial to me. That’s what constant criticism during your formative years can do. So I completely understood her emotional journey.
The male lead’s insecurity is also relatable, but I wish the film had spent more time building these emotional layers. The foundation is there, but the depth feels slightly underdeveloped. Because of that, when the characters reach their breaking point, it doesn’t hit as hard as it could have. The story had strong potential but seemed to lose momentum along the way.
That said, both Siddhant Chaturvedi and Mrunal Thakur deliver solid performances and do justice to their roles.
Overall, Do Deewane Seher Mein is a decent one-time watch, especially if you enjoy classic-style romantic storytelling. It’s currently streaming on Netflix.
I picked the Malayalam movie Ithiri Neram randomly last weekend. I usually choose movies based purely on my mood. Because of that, I often ignore films or dramas that are trending or getting a lot of attention. Sometimes I simply may not be in the mood for that genre.
Ithiri Neram had been sitting in my watchlist for quite some time. After my North East trip, I suddenly felt like watching something slow-paced and centered on human interactions. I wanted a quiet Malayalam film that focuses more on emotions than plot twists. Ithiri Neram seemed perfect for that kind of weekend watch.
The story deals with a slightly controversial theme. It follows a married man who reconnects with his college flame. In a way, it reminded me of the Tamil movie 96, but almost in reverse.
Because the story revolves around a married man who still carries unresolved feelings for his ex, the film creates an unusual emotional conflict for the viewer. You enjoy the crackling chemistry (a type of chemistry that conveys a lot through eye contact) between the lead pair, yet at the same time you feel a sense of guilt. You cannot help but think about the wife, who has no idea what her husband really feels about their marriage. According to him, that “special feeling” is missing in the marriage. This aspect of the story also became a point of debate among viewers. Some felt that the movie glorified an extramarital emotional connection. But I don’t think movies always need to function as a vehicle for social messaging. Cinema is also a space to tell stories about human emotions, even the uncomfortable ones.
And the truth is, the idea that someone may still carry feelings for an old love is not unrealistic. It may not be something people openly admit, especially after marriage. But it is a very human experience that exists quietly in many lives.
The chemistry between the two leads is undeniable. Their conversations and silences pull you in emotionally. At times it feels like the film quietly pushes the audience into rooting for something that is not right.
Once you reach your 40s, you also start realizing something uncomfortable. Chemistry is rare. You may settle down with someone you deeply respect and care for. The relationship can be stable and supportive. Yet, like Anish in the film, you might sometimes feel that something extra is missing. That “extra” could be a kind of chemistry you once experienced in the past and have been searching for ever since.
Over time, many people choose stability over chemistry. And in many ways, that decision makes sense. Life cannot run on chemistry alone. Intense chemistry can also bring strong emotions that are hard to manage, and that intensity can sometimes destabilize relationships.
Roshan Mathew and Zarin Shihab deliver beautiful and natural performances. Their screen presence carries the emotional weight of the story very well. The comedy relief also works nicely and matches my kind of humor. I genuinely enjoyed those lighter moments.
The supporting cast adds good balance to the film. Performances by Nandu and Anand Manmadhan help keep the story light so that the emotional tension never becomes overwhelming.
If you enjoy slow movies that focus on relationships, nostalgia, and complicated emotions, Ithiri Neram might be worth adding to your watchlist.
Ithiri Neram is currently streaming on Prime Video.
I knew I would be watching Accused on Netflix the moment I saw the lead pair: Konkona Sen Sharma and Pratibha Ranta. I have always liked both actors, so that alone was reason enough to hit the play button. But what really caught my attention was the theme of queer romance. In Indian cinema, stories about same-sex relationships are still relatively rare, which makes films like this especially interesting.
Over the past few years, India has slowly begun opening up to conversations about LGBTQ+ relationships. What once felt shocking to mainstream audiences is gradually becoming part of everyday discussion. That change did not happen overnight. It is the result of efforts from many sides: legal changes like the decriminalization of homosexuality in India, activists who have spent years spreading awareness, and filmmakers who are willing to tell stories about queer love on screen. Because of that collective push, movies exploring same-sex romance are finding space in Indian cinema.
I still remember when the Malayalam movie Kaathal: The Core was released. It remains one of the Malayalam films I feel proud of. I saw its impact firsthand at a family event we attended around that time. Some of my elderly relatives actually began discussing the theme of the film. It was clear they were still a bit uncomfortable talking about homosexuality, but the conversation itself was a big step. What surprised me most was that a few of them were able to acknowledge that homosexuality is real and not something a person can simply control or change. And the reason they were willing to even consider that perspective was simple: Mammootty was part of the film. Seeing an actor from their own generation portray such a character helped normalize the topic for them.
That moment reminded me of the real impact cinema can have. Movies are not just entertainment. Sometimes, they quietly open the door to conversations that people would otherwise avoid.
Getting back to the movie in question, Accused begins on a fast-paced note. The opening pulls you in immediately, and there is enough intrigue to keep you watching as the story unfolds. For a while, the film manages to hold that tension well. Unfortunately, the narrative loses some of its strength towards the end, and the impact is not quite as powerful as the beginning promised.
That said, the performances are a big highlight. Konkona Sen Sharma and Pratibha Ranta are both wonderful to watch. Pratibha, in particular, looked great throughout the film. I even found myself noticing her earrings more than once. She has mostly been seen in village girl roles so far, so it was refreshing to see her play a modern, city girl in this Netflix film. I am definitely looking forward to seeing more stories featuring her.
Konkona, as expected, delivers a strong performance. Her character is aggressive, ambitious, and very clear about what she wants. She does not soften her words to make others comfortable, and that confidence makes her come across as a true “boss girl” personality. At the same time, the film also shows how women like her often end up being judged or disliked for the same qualities that would be admired in men.
Overall, Accused starts off as a gripping Netflix drama with an interesting queer romance angle and strong performances. Even though the ending feels a bit underwhelming, the film is still worth watching for its lead actors and the way it brings conversations about same-sex relationships in India to a wider audience.
I finally watched The Kerala Story 2 trailer because the noise around it became impossible to avoid. I had stayed away from watching it till then, hoping we would collectively ignore it.
The trailer begins with a call to “convert India into a Muslim nation.” That kind of rhetoric comes from extremist outfits like PFI, not from everyday Muslims. It’s in PFI’s “India 1947” doctrine, available online. But the moment a film shows Islamist extremists, people immediately react as if the entire Muslim community is being insulted. That jump is what frustrates me. The trailer is clearly about extremists, not ordinary people (also confirmed by the makers).
I keep seeing reels saying, “Where in Kerala is this? This is nothing like Kerala.” Exactly. It is not about the regular Muslims we meet every day. It is about fringe groups.
When the movies, Bombay or Empuraan, showed Hindu extremists attacking Muslims, no one claimed the film insulted all Hindus, and that it was an insult to Bombay and a generalization. When films show fringe Hindutva groups, we do not accuse the filmmakers of attacking every Hindu. So why is criticism of Islamist extremism treated as an attack on Muslims as a whole? This inability to separate ideology from community makes any honest conversation impossible. And political groups thrive on that confusion.
I thought the film would be ignored this time. I watched the trailer only to understand the hype. Otherwise, I would not have bothered. And once again, the makers got free publicity because controversy sells.
The director’s NDTV interview
In an NDTV interview, the director was asked why he named it after Kerala again even though the film covers incidents in multiple states. His answer was very simple. He said he got attention for the first film because of the name “Kerala.” So he used it again to get the same effect. It was a marketing strategy. And we fell for it.
He also mentioned that the film connects certain cases to networks like Chhangur Baba’s. According to him, these networks have a specific goal in mind. Again, he presented this as the reasoning behind the storyline, not as a statement on all Muslims.
The song and the real-life cases
The song O Maayi Ri, sung beautifully by Shreya Ghoshal, reminded me of the emotional interviews with the mothers of victims (some notable victims include Nimisha, Sonia Sebastian, and Merrin Jacob). They begged for their daughters to be brought back from ISIS camps in Afghanistan. The girls, as per officials, were too radicalized to be brought back home. No country easily brings back citizens who have a soft corner for a terror group. Many countries around the world refuse repatriation because of national security concerns.
And Kerala has had some troubling conversion-related cases too.
There is the case of Sona Eldhose, who was allegedly forced to go to Ponnanifor conversion.
There is also the story of Kamala Surayya, discussed in the book The Love Queen of Malabar. According to the book, she was encouraged to convert with the promise of marriage made by a mainstream political figure. Once she converted, he backed away. The book also mentions foreign funding from the Gulf that influenced the situation.
These cases do not define Kerala as a state, but they exist. They cannot be erased from the larger conversation.
Kerala’s habit of defending itself too quickly
What irritates me is how quickly Keralites jump into defensive mode. The moment someone brings up extremist incidents or conversion cases, people post “This is the real Kerala story” along with photos of communal harmony and Onam celebrations. Those moments are beautiful, but they do not cancel out the darker stories. Kerala can be progressive and safe while still having pockets of extremism. That duality is real. Acceptance does not mean defamation. In fact, acceptance is the first step toward accountability.
My issue with the beef discourse
Beef in Kerala has become a political symbol. I eat beef, but I am not here to prove that “I am a Hindu who eats beef. I’m so cool.” I am also not going to claim that Hindus who eat beef are not real Hindus. Those extremes mean nothing to me.
There are actual cases of people being forced to eat beef by partners or relatives. A basic online search shows plenty of such stories. So mocking that scene in the trailer becomes insensitive because coercion is not fictional for some people.
What makes the discourse more insensitive is the constant use of beef as a political prop in Kerala. Historically, beef has been used to hurt Hindu sentiments and harass certain groups. As someone who eats beef, I have never felt proud of it in a political sense. It is food. We can all eat what we like, but weaponising it feels disrespectful.
Even the MSF, the youth wing of the Muslim League, called out the SFI beef fests happening on campuses. They said it is insulting to those Hindus in Kerala who consider beef unholy. They added that they themselves would find it offensive if there were pork fests. Whether political or not, they made a fair point. Sensitivity should work both ways.
The political angle behind the controversy
This is something I have been observing closely. In my opinion, the controversy did not naturally explode. It was amplified politically. The first major reaction came from CM Pinarayi Vijayan on X. Once he reacted, his supporters followed, and the discussion spiralled from there.
I believe his response was a political strategy to position himself as the protector of secularism in Kerala. He had lost support earlier due to his association with Vellapally Natesan and also the Sabarimala gold case. His tweet seemed carefully framed as the Kerala election is near. He even highlighted that Kerala has not seen any communal riots in the last ten years, which also happens to be the period during which he served as Chief Minister.
Whether intentional or not, the film’s visibility multiplied because of this political reaction.
Why the title still annoys me
The title “Kerala Story Goes Beyond” suggests that Kerala is some central hub of Islamist extremism, which is simply not true. Kerala is safe. Hindus are safe. Fringe groups exist, but the narrative of “Hindu genocide” is false.
At the same time, filmmakers have always used region names to provoke reactions. Movies like Bombay did not lead anyone to generalise the entire city. Shows like Delhi Crime did not make people say Delhi is entirely unsafe.
But names like Kashmir or Kerala grab attention instantly. Filmmakers know this. It is part of the business. And audiences fall for it every single time.
Final thoughts
Kerala has many stories of harmony, culture, and peaceful coexistence. But Kerala also has some unsettling stories involving extremism, manipulation, and political strategy. Both realities can exist together. Loving a state does not mean denying the uncomfortable parts. Real progress and intellect come from honest acknowledgement.
The Monkey Dilemma 
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