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

The Girlfriend Telugu Movie Photo

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

Homebound Photograph

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.

Netflix Movie Spotlight: Baramulla

Baramulla Movie Poster

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.

Netflix Movie Spotlight: Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira

Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira Movie Poster

Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira is a Malayalam movie that didn’t get glowing reviews. Still, I decided to give it a shot, because over time, I’ve learned that my taste rarely matches what others say. I’ve liked movies that everyone else trashed, and I’ve dropped shows that got rave reviews.

Take Bads of Bollywood, for instance. I quit after three episodes. The humor just didn’t click with me. The Emmy winner, Severance, on Apple TV? I made it to five episodes before giving up. It was too slow for my liking, and yes, I shamelessly looked up the spoilers for both because I couldn’t sit through the rest.

Serious movie fans and critics might think my choices are questionable. And that’s fine. I’m not trying to be anyone’s go-to person for movie recommendations. I watch movies for one simple reason: to be entertained. If a film or show keeps me hooked, that’s all that matters. I’ve also noticed how people often get shamed for liking a movie that others dislike, or for disliking one that everyone praises. This makes many stay silent about their opinions. My attempt at being open is simply to break away from that.

So, with that mindset, I started watching Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira. I didn’t expect much, but I ended up being pleasantly surprised.

What’s It About?

Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira opens with the wedding preparations of a quirky couple. On the night before the wedding, the bride visits the groom with an unusual request: she wants him to arrive at the venue on a horse. It’s her dream, she says. Or rather, it’s something that keeps recurring in her dreams. She believes the dream will stop only if he makes that grand entry for real. The ever-romantic groom agrees without hesitation. But what follows is a chain of chaotic events that quickly spiral out of control.

Thoughts

Unlike most recent Malayalam movies, Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira is not dark, intellectual, or overly smart. The type critics will rave about. And it’s not meant to be. It’s a crackpot of a film filled with quirky, eccentric characters, and that’s exactly why I liked it. I enjoy seeing wacky personalities on screen, the kind you’d find in Andaz Apna Apna. This kind of comedy works for me. It’s not vulgar, it doesn’t demean women, and it’s genuinely funny.

The movie feels like a group of friends coming together to create something chaotic just for fun. More like a personal, experimental project than a polished production. Kudos to Fahadh Faasil and the team for taking that risk. I especially liked Lal’s character as Fahadh’s father, and I thought Revathi Pillai shared better chemistry with Fahadh than Kalyani Priyadarshan did.

I wish the ending were better. It was underwhelming, but that did not take away the fact that I enjoyed the majority of the movie.

Watch it if you’re in the mood for something silly, unserious, and refreshingly offbeat. Don’t expect a masterpiece: just expect a fun, wacky ride to unwind after a long day at work. Odum Kuthira Chaadum Kuthira is now streaming on Netflix.

Netflix Movie Spotlight: Greater Kalesh

Greater Kalesh Poster

It’s Diwali season. This time of year always puts me in the mood for something cozy and family-friendly to watch. But honestly, we just don’t get those kinds of movies anymore. The ones you can enjoy with everyone at home.

Remember the golden ’90s? We’d all sit together and watch Jo Jeeta Wohi Sikandar, Hum Hain Rahi Pyar Ke, or Dilwale Dulhania Le Jayenge without a single dull moment. Okay, not exactly in my family, as I was the only one truly into Bollywood, while the rest were more drawn to Malayalam movies. But I imagine these were the kind of movies that one would typically watch with their families. Nowadays, to relax, I tune into psychological thrillers because family movies do not feel family-oriented anymore.

That’s why I was keen to watch Greater Kalesh when it dropped on Netflix. It’s perfect for people like me who just want to unwind with something light and heartwarming. At under an hour, it’s an easy, breezy watch before jumping right back into Diwali celebrations.

What’s It About?

A young career woman returns home after a long time to celebrate Diwali with her family. She’s excited for a warm, cheerful reunion, but the moment she steps inside, she’s greeted not by laughter, but by chaos. Her family members are in the middle of a heated argument, and she can’t quite figure out what started it.

Thoughts

Greater Kalesh is short, simple, and surprisingly sweet. It doesn’t have high-stakes drama or a strong, twisting storyline. But that’s exactly what makes it refreshing for me. Sometimes you just want something light, easy, and comforting, and this little film delivers that perfectly. It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, especially if you seek something more cerebral or non-woke, but to me it felt like peeking into the everyday life of a next-door family and watching them sort things out in their own warm, relatable way.

Ahsaas Channa and Supriya Shukla truly shine here. Their mother-daughter bond feels real and layered. The kind that might make you think of your own mom with a smile.

It’s definitely worth a quick watch. Greater Kalesh is now streaming on Netflix.

Movie Spotlight: Paradha

Paradha Movie Poster

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.