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.
I recently watched Nobody Wants This Season 2. If you haven’t seen Season 1 of this Netflix series, I really think you should. It deals with a topic that most interfaith love stories never touch — conversion. It’s a sensitive issue, especially among Abrahamic religions. So it felt quite bold that the makers decided to go into it at all.
Season 1 had already touched on the idea of conversion. But Season 2 takes it a little further. This time, you see the boyfriend, who is a Jewish rabbi, and his family, constantly pushing his Christian girlfriend, who seems more atheist or maybe agnostic, to convert. It adds a new layer to their story and makes the whole situation feel even more complicated.
However, this post is not a detailed review of the series, but the many thoughts that came to my mind while watching it, mainly concerning conversion and how it is seen in India.
There are many abroad who have a distorted idea of religious freedom in India, no thanks to misleading, half-baked news articles, often written by left-leaning Hindus or non-Hindus, and I wish to debunk those notions as well and present them from the perspective of a centre-right Hindu who was, till two years ago, a leftist.
Be prepared for a long post, because this is a topic I feel strongly about. If you’re short on time, you may want to save or bookmark it and read it when you’re free.
A Hindu’s View on Conversion
Before I begin, I want to make my religious beliefs clear. I’m not a religious Hindu in the traditional sense, but I’m still a staunch Hindu. If that sounds confusing, it’s only because Hinduism allows this kind of pluralism. You can be spiritual, non-religious, or even an atheist, and still remain Hindu.
The faith makes space for many ways of thinking, which is why someone like me fits comfortably within it. I’m not ostracized for eating beef, nor am I ostracized for not following religious beliefs properly. I can question and I can push back against religious rules I don’t believe in without repercussions.
This freedom that my belief generously allows me is exactly why I strongly stand by the community and call myself a “staunch Hindu.” I advocate for the rights of my community, which a religious Hindu in India may not always do, as they wish to appear secular and tolerant of even the injustices against us.
Now that my beliefs are out of the way, I want to say that even as a non-traditional, progressive Hindu feminist, I don’t support conversion. I don’t understand why anyone has to give up their identity for love, marriage, or even politics, no matter how much anyone would try to justify it.
Most Hindus in India feel the same way, which is why you rarely see the community protesting against anti-conversion laws in some states. Among ourselves, we often say the same thing quietly: “What’s the need to convert?” Of course, many reasons are given. I address them later in this post.
Then we see Indian-origin Hindu politicians in America converting to Christianity to stay relevant and gain acceptance, and it makes us pause. It makes us wonder, “Is America really the land of the free?” And on what basis do they judge India on religious matters when they themselves have not reached full religious secularism yet?
However, in Abrahamic religions, conversion is considered a matter of freedom of faith. This is acknowledged. But this is also a major reason for communal tensions in a Hindu-majority country like India. Most Hindus do not believe in conversion or proselytization, while Abrahamic faiths consider it a part of their practice.
Hindus are of the belief that everyone should be free to practice their faith without disturbing others or disrespecting anyone else’s faith. Proselytization goes against that idea. It feels disrespectful because it implies someone’s existing faith is not good enough. It involves putting down those beliefs, so they are convinced enough to join the new one. So, this “freedom of faith” often comes at the expense of disrespecting others, which was tolerated for the longest period of time, till the Hindu community got the strength to say “enough is enough.”
This pushback is the part that’s often presented to the world as a “lack of religious freedom” in India. Or, to put it more frankly, the lack of freedom to convert Hindus. This clash of beliefs has no solution, and I see it continuing even after a change of government. It’s a label the country has to live with, because there can be no middle ground when people feel their identity is being erased.
A thought I often hear is, “There are so many Christian-majority and Muslim-majority countries in the world. Why can’t they just leave us alone?” It reflects the frustration many Hindus feel when they see constant pressure to convert despite already being a global minority.
Pressure to Convert in Interfaith Marriages
The topic of conversion in marriages is prevalent in Indian Reddit circles. Almost every other day, you see someone saying, “My partner’s parents want me to convert. What should I do?”
From what I’ve seen, it’s usually the Hindu who is expected to convert. And often, the Hindu partner is unaware of what that really means. They hear lines like, “You just need to get baptized. After that, you can follow your own culture,” and they assume there’s no conversion involved. Many agree because they don’t realize the deeper implications. We walk into these situations thinking others are as pluralistic and flexible as we are, and that’s where the misunderstanding begins.
Conversion is also very normalized. When I ask my Christian friends if someone needs to convert to marry into their community, they casually say “yes,” as if it’s the most ordinary thing in the world.
We recently saw this when JD Vance openly and coolly said he hopes his wife, Usha Vance, a Hindu, converts someday. Ironically, the same line appears in Nobody Wants This Season 2 as well, where the Jewish rabbi says he hopes his Christian girlfriend converts one day.
For us Hindus, it’s a culture shock, almost regressive, because we never expect something like this from others. At the same time, Abrahamics and international news channels are confused when they report that there’s outrage in India over Vance’s statement. They have no idea why Hindus are angry. So they brand it as “far-right Hindutva.”
Why Do Hindus Dislike Conversion?
Most Hindus find the idea of conversion strange, because the religion itself accepts that God can appear in many forms. It is naturally pluralistic. So someone like me, who is not religious, or even someone who is an atheist, is still seen as a Hindu, because schools like Carvaka already accept that. We also tend to readily accept other gods because of this pluralism. We don’t consider them as fake. We don’t believe that ours is the “only true god” either.
This pluralistic mindset of Hindus is both a boon and a bane. A boon because we naturally accept all faiths, and a bane because we expect the same openness from others, and we don’t always receive it.
On top of that, many Hindus today focus more on careers and less on having children. So there is a natural tendency to protect the current Hindu population from inducements. The Chattisgarh High Court reiterated the same thing recently:
Chhattisgarh High Court Condemning Induced Conversions
With all this in mind, it’s natural that the majority of Hindus don’t look at conversion in a positive way. Our faith is already mocked by many Abrahamics around the world, who use words like “demon-worshipping pagans.” This makes it even more important to push back against that narrative and simply exist as we are.
Hindus, in short, want the freedom to be seen and respected in their own identity. But this way of thinking is often dismissed by, ironically, the very same people who speak loudly about secularism and freedom of religion. If others believe Hindus can be freely converted, then Hindus also have the right to openly object to it.
Ghar Wapsi
Now, some may argue that even Hindus encourage conversion in the form of Ghar Wapsi (reverting to Hinduism). However, Ghar wapsi is not a core part of Hinduism. It is more of a reaction to the aggressive conversions that have been happening in the country.
Most people I know converted to Abrahamic religions because of perks, not out of faith. They were poor and needed money. They were promised financial benefits if they converted. The fact that they are openly admitting this is nothing any faith should feel proud of. The only reason to convert to another faith should be faith itself. You should feel that the new faith and its principles are right for you, not be influenced by inducements or pressure.
If you ask why the Hindu side can’t match these perks, the answer is simple: we don’t have multiple Hindu-majority nations funding such activities. India is the only major Hindu-majority country, so the playing field is not equal.
Ghar Wapsi is simply an attempt, based on faith alone, to help those who genuinely want to return to Hinduism.
Arguments Used to Justify Conversions in India
1. Charity
There’s this belief that the money given during conversions is out of pure kindness. But I know many Christians who are struggling, working extra hours just to manage their basic needs. If the intention is genuine help, why not support them first?
And, most importantly, why should any help come with the condition of conversion?
Real help doesn’t demand a change of faith. If it does, you have to wonder whether it’s truly help or part of an agenda.
2. Caste Discrimination in Hinduism
It’s also misleading to say that converted Christians escape discrimination to enter a better way of life after they leave Hinduism. Many are treated as “lower-level” Christians, and some have even gone back to Hinduism because of this.
Source: New Indian Express (July 2025)
Additionally, consider the points made below (took help from Google Search AI):
One person told me about a convert in her family who wants to return but cannot, because they signed a financial help agreement that now holds them back.
The good thing is that the caste system within Hindu society is slowly being dealt with. Families are becoming more open to inter-caste marriages, including in my own family. This change is happening faster in the South than in the North. It’s not perfect yet, but progress is real. In this situation, constantly blaming a community that is actively trying to fix the problem does not help.
Yes, many Hindus still support caste, and as long as they exist, the issue will continue. But this divide is also kept alive by leaders, both political and religious, because it benefits them. If caste truly disappears, many of these leaders lose their power to divide or convert Hindus, and that is why the system hasn’t faded away completely.
Instead of building bridges, the “narrative builders” choose to burn them by feeding divisive stories, which only pushes people of different castes further apart. Missionaries often highlight caste discrimination so aggressively because it helps them drive conversions. So you have to ask — are they really helping, or are they using the problem to serve their own goals?
4. Freedom of Faith
The tricky side of conversion in India is that Hindus openly say they are against it. But in Kerala, I often see Christian groups shift their stand based on who is converting and to which religion. They welcome anyone who joins their faith, but they loudly object when someone chooses to leave it.
Churches often use the term “love jihad” when a Christian woman converts to Islam for love. Yet the same groups talk about “freedom of faith” when a Hindu woman converts to Christianity for love.
Since both Abrahamic religions support proselytization as part of their belief system, you would expect them to be supportive of conversions into each other’s religion. But that rarely happens.
Complications of Conversion in Interfaith Relationships
Spoiler Ahead for Nobody Wants This Season 2
Click to reveal spoiler
Considering the many unwanted complications related to conversion, I was really hoping the female character in Nobody Wants This would take a stand. I wanted both partners to accept that two religions can live side by side without one needing to disappear. The ending didn’t go the way I hoped, but since there’s a Season 3 coming, I’m hoping they fix things and take the story in a better direction.
*Spoiler Ends*
In many interfaith relationships, I notice that the Hindu partner often gives in to the Abrahamic faith — if not through marriage, then through the children.
Take Usha Vance, for example. All three of her children were baptized because her husband couldn’t accept the kids growing up Hindu. That feels like a loss of her own identity. It shows that even an educated woman like her is not fully protected from this pressure.
If it were up to me, ideally, I would want the kids to grow up with both religions. But if we had to choose one religion for my “imaginary” children, I would fight hard to raise them in my own. Purely because Hinduism is naturally pluralistic, and it doesn’t invalidate any other faith. It would also matter to me because Hindus are a global minority, while the other religions face no existential crisis. It’s like the global majority religion being generous enough to make space for the growth of the minority.
Also, if I had to pick, I would choose a court marriage. But if the partner insists on a religious ceremony, then it would have to be a temple wedding. You don’t need to convert for that. You only need to respect the rituals. It’s simple, fair, and inclusive.
This is probably why I feel an interfaith marriage may not work for me. I believe in equality between religions, while an Abrahamic partner may not always see it the same way. There would be constant tension, and I am not the kind of Hindu who would compromise on my identity.
When I was younger, I probably would not have thought this way. Back then, love felt like everything. But growing older makes you see the bigger picture.
Pushback Against Conversions in India
More Hindus today realize that they don’t need to give up their beliefs for anything, which is why you see fewer people willing to convert.
Hindu Villagers in India Fighting Back Against Conversion
This awareness is slowly growing. I recently saw a post on Reddit where an Indian Christian said they felt sad that many Hindus in India are no longer open to conversion or to “the way of the Lord.” To me, this is actually a positive sign for the Hindu community. It shows that more people are choosing to stay firm in their identity.
And honestly, this should be true for every religion, because love and true secularism do not require anyone to change who they really are.
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.
I’m a divorcee. I have been for many years now. I’ve never hidden this fact. But I also never imagined my marriage would end the way it did. Then again, who does?
We all grow up believing our marriages will last forever. I also used to think of myself as a tolerant person, so the idea of my marriage failing felt impossible. In my mind, this is something that others might have to go through, the ones with anger issues, those who couldn’t compromise. Not me.
I followed every piece of advice perfectly. The kind you might have seen relationship gurus meting out on social media nowadays, i.e., communicate respectfully, try to understand the other person’s perspective, etc. But over time, I realized communication isn’t a one-way effort; it takes two people to make it work. If only one partner keeps trying while the other sits back, believing they have nothing to change, it slowly chips away at your happiness.
With time, after observing other marriages around me, I understood that maybe I wasn’t as tolerant as I thought — at least not by Indian standards.
Different Levels of Tolerance in Relationships
My regrets in relationships are less about the ex and more about how I handled things. “Why did I let others influence my decisions? Why did I tolerate and compromise more than required?“
Of course, every relationship requires compromises. But each partner also has their own tolerance limits. For me, physical or emotional abuse is unacceptable. Yet, even I, someone who might appear intolerant of everything, tolerated it for a while before deciding I’d had enough. Many women, however, make peace with such situations in their marriages (and relationships in general) for their own reasons (dependency, fear, children, financial pressures, and more).
To cite an example of varying levels of tolerance: When I kept hearing cries of domestic violence in my building, I complained to the building association, even though people advised me not to. “It’s their family, their rules.” But I couldn’t just sit there doing nothing while hearing those cries. It was traumatizing. I took this step because there were times, even in my own relationship, that I wished my neighbors had intervened. Probably, ring the doorbell or knock on the door. It would have provided that much-needed relief.
After my complaint, it hasn’t happened since. But who’s to say the guy didn’t just find quieter ways to hurt his wife? I would’ve run away if such things had happened to me repeatedly, even if it meant begging on the streets for the rest of my life. But his wife might be thinking, “It’s okay. He’s doing it all out of love.” Who’s to know? You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.
Different levels of tolerance.
People also need to understand that no one files for divorce after just one instance of mistreatment. It happens when the same behavior repeats, even after requests, pleas, and calm conversations. Some choose to walk away, while others make peace with the idea that this is how their life will be. So the common advice of “give it one more chance” is mostly useless, and a bit insensitive, because the ones involved might have already given it multiple chances before deciding to let go.
Power of Faith During Tough Times
Even though I’m not a religious Hindu, having faith in some form has always helped me through tough times. It’s the one thing to hold onto when it feels like your world is falling apart. Even now, I rarely visit temples or follow rituals properly, but in moments of extreme heaviness, I still pray. Not to any specific god. I believe we’re all praying to the same divine force, just using different names and stories. What else could explain miracles happening in every community?
I remember, when I was married, our home had a lone idol of Goddess Kali, a deity I had rarely prayed to before. My parents usually had Lord Krishna at home. I still remember looking at the deity and crying. I asked if this was how it would be for the rest of my life – painful and broken on the inside, faking happiness on the outside (especially for social media).
I sometimes think I might have continued living that way if I hadn’t been pushed by some greater power to take a stand for myself. Probably it was Her. Must have been fed up with me always looking at Her, crying and whining. Even goddesses have their tolerance limits. Also, gods only help those who help themselves, right? Or as we Malayalees say, “Thaan paathi, dhaivam paathi” (you must put in your half of the effort, and God will take care of the rest). Maa Kali might have gone, “Bitch, why don’t you just leave the marriage, instead of troubling me all the bloody time?“
The day I walked out of my marriage was also the day I told my parents, “If you don’t help me, I’ll do it on my own.” Thankfully, they stood by me when I made that decision. I also had the confidence to stand on my own feet. I wasn’t employed then, but my freelance work brought in some income. I knew that if I left the marriage, I wouldn’t be a burden on anyone. That same freelance experience later helped me secure a job. It formed the bulk of my resume, and it convinced my employers that I could handle responsibilities independently, even while working from home, at a time when WFH wasn’t even common.
When I look back, I feel the universe was guiding me in small but meaningful ways toward a life that may be inadequate for someone else, but is absolutely correct for a homebody, introverted feminist like me.
Taking Marriage Advice from Society
But the point is, society will tell you not to take advice from a woman like me. Because I’m a divorcee. What would I know about marriage and relationships, right?
Yet it will encourage you to listen to the woman who keeps enduring it all, at the cost of her well-being, because that’s what a “good wife” does.
Society doesn’t really care about what a woman thinks or feels. It just wants you to stick to the rules.
Personal observation: In almost every war, there’s always someone who doesn’t want it to end.
In the India–Pakistan war, many in India didn’t want the fighting to stop because they felt Pakistan hadn’t learned its lesson yet. Some even wanted the government to reclaim PoK (Pakistan-occupied Kashmir) during this time (which I strongly oppose).
When Israel attacked Iran’s nuclear sites, many anti-regime Iranians wanted the war to continue because they hoped the regime would fall.
The Israel–Gaza conflict is even more unusual. Many who kept calling for a ceasefire suddenly went quiet or were openly against it when finally announced. Maybe they had expected Israel to be driven out and a new Palestinian state to rise “from the river to the sea.” But that idea is unrealistic and only calls for more violence. Just like India will never give up Kashmir, Israel will never give up its land. Both countries get a lot of criticism for putting their own interests first. But, over the years, Jews and Indians have learned an important lesson: if they want their interests protected, they can’t rely on anyone else. When Indians get murdered in America, there’s next to no backlash. It’s the same case with Jews. History is also proof that when Hindus face persecution or genocide (Kashmiri Pandits, Sandeshkhali, Bangladeshi, and Pakistani Hindus), the world stays silent. In a world shaped by selective activism, these two communities have gradually learned to shed their passivity and docile nature, standing up for themselves without guilt. Indians, in my view, are still learning. Our tendency to stay silent runs deep. But since 2014, that’s starting to change, much to the annoyance of some. Apparently, a “good” Indian is still largely expected to be a silent one in the face of persecution and bigotry.
Anyway, the point is that in any war, there’s always duality. Those who push for the conflict to continue aren’t always on the “far-right.” Sometimes, they are far-left or far-right figures from other communities, disguised as leftist liberals. Take, for example, the India-Pakistan war. Many leftists in India wanted it to end and for peace to prevail. Yet recently, some of those same voices wanted Hamas to reject the peace deal, even at the cost of many lives.
I’ve often felt that the far-left and far-right are just two sides of the same coin. The recent wars and reactions to them over the years only validate this claim.
I actually wanted to watch Paradha in the theatre, because I thought the cast was interesting. It had my lovely curly-haired favourites: Anupama Parameshwaran and Darshana Rajendran, who are known faces in the South. But then I got caught up with other priorities and missed booking a ticket that weekend. Later, I came across some reviews that made me second-guess whether it was worth watching on the big screen and decided to skip going to the theatre. Recently, when it was released on Amazon Prime, I finally decided to watch it.
The movie made me realize that not every review online is meant for you. Reviews often reflect the reviewer’s personal taste, but we tend to assume we’ll feel the same way. I’ve had similar experiences with other films, too, where the reviews were harsh, yet I ended up enjoying them. I still don’t get the importance of movie reviews, because whether we like a movie or not is subjective. But here I am, giving my own movie reviews from a highly subjective viewpoint. I think we should treat reviews as such: personal opinions of someone who loves watching movies, and not the absolute truth.
What’s It About?
Paradha, true to its name, centers on Subbu (Anupama Parameshwaran), a young Hindu woman from a remote Indian village where the tradition of paradha (dupatta veiling) is strictly practiced. While this custom is largely cultural in many parts of India, the film presents it as a religious mandate. The villagers worship Goddess Jwalamma, who they believe commanded that women remain hidden behind a veil. From puberty onward, every girl is forced to follow this rule, with severe consequences for defiance. Subbu, however, finds herself caught in a controversy that threatens her marriage to the man she loves.
Thoughts
Though the story begins with a devout woman who strictly follows religious practices, Paradha is not just about her. It portrays women from different walks of life, each facing gender discrimination in unique ways.
The first woman is deeply religious, bound by the strict purdah or dupatta system. The second, married outside the village, has left purdah behind but remains traditional in other aspects. The third rejects religious traditions altogether, embraces modern values, and focuses on her career. The fourth is a policewoman who’s happily married, enjoying full freedom, and choosing to follow certain traditions out of personal preference rather than compulsion. The movie keeps the narrative balanced this way.
Paradha is a feminist film centered on women’s empowerment, and it may not appeal to everyone. It highlights how women, even the most progressive, continue to face discrimination, no matter how far they try to escape from it.
I really enjoyed the movie. The climax was chilling, and the performances, especially by Anupama Parameshwaran, Darshana Rajendran, and Sangeetha, were superb. It’s a brave film, because criticizing patriarchy is never easy. Often, women themselves defend restrictive practices by saying, “It’s our choice.” But true choice exists only when opting out doesn’t bring harsh criticism or punishment. Many women follow norms not out of freedom, but because they have no other option. The movie captures this truth powerfully.
Paradha is now streaming on Amazon Prime. I watched it in the original Telugu with English subtitles.
The Monkey Dilemma 
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