The moment I started watching this 2023 film, I was struck by a thought - how we seem to have a dearth of soft, warm, feel-good films today. Everything now leans towards overstimulation, violence, or excessive skin show.
The film’s premise is simple, yet deeply layered. It touches upon issues like anxiety, panic attacks, and depression with quiet sensitivity.
Two strangers meet, greet, and feel an instant connection - not an entirely new premise for Bollywood. But here, that connection stems from their vulnerabilities, their incompleteness. Two poetic souls - Preetam and Iravati - find themselves drawn to each other.
Preetam, played by Gulshan Devaiah, is someone with a growing love for poetry and literature. Iravati, portrayed by Saiyami Kher, writes not just as a hobby, but as a way to release her thoughts and converse with herself. As a poet, I found her character deeply relatable. There is something profoundly comforting in watching her pick up her pen after a long, mundane day and simply pour her heart onto paper.
Preetam admires her - her poetry, her essence - while she begins to admire him, his life, and even his wife, Mrudula, who also writes poetry. Yet, as the film progresses, an underlying unease creeps in. Is there a hidden darkness behind Preetam’s effervescent smile? And is Iravati’s anxiety deeper than what meets the eye?
At times, the dialogues arrive unexpectedly - almost abruptly - without dramatic buildup. It feels more like a stage play unfolding in fragments. But perhaps that rawness works in the film’s favor.
One particular moment stayed with me - when Iravati questions why people wait until their deathbeds or moments of tragedy to express their feelings:
"เคฒोเค เค
เคชเคจे เคเค़्เคฌाเคค เคเคนเคจे เคे เคฒिเค เคนเคฎेเคถा เคिเคธी เคเคเคฐी เคชเคฒ เคा เคंเคคเค़ाเคฐ เค्เคฏों เคเคฐเคคे เคนैं?" [Why do people always wait until the last moment to express their feelings?]
One of many favorite conversations
Reflecting on her father’s death, she voices a thought many of us have quietly carried. A lifetime lived within society’s rigid frameworks, only to be flooded with regrets when time begins to slip away.
Preetam, an extreme introvert, struggles to open up. Iravati gently nudges him to speak to a stranger, just to overcome his fear - and they laugh about it. Through beautifully captured frames and poetic exchanges, the film flows like a calm river on a summer afternoon - until the floodgates open, revealing the silent battles both are fighting.
Their bond grows during brief metro rides - conversations, shared silences, random anecdotes. It becomes something profound, yet undefined. Not everything needs a label.
Another line that quietly lingers:
"เคนเคฐ เคंเคธाเคจ เคे เค
ंเคฆเคฐ เคเค เคเคนाเคจी เคนोเคคी เคนै, เคฌเคธ เคोเค เคธुเคจเคจे เคตाเคฒा เคाเคนिเค।" [Every person has a story inside them; all they need is someone to listen.]
Watching them sipping filter coffee standing near Durgam cheruvu ( of Hyderabad) made me almost vicariously live the moment where I was also enjoying my coffee listening to two close friends. In a world where meaningful connections are rare, finding someone on the same wavelength feels like a blessing. And if we fail to hold on to such bonds, what remains are regrets - which many among us successfully have!
The film might feel triggering for those dealing with severe anxiety or depression, but it also serves as a gentle reminder - no matter how difficult a phase is, it will pass.
The reference to Franz Kafka’s doll story, symbolizing loss and healing, was a beautiful way to conclude this conversational narrative. It highlights how strangers sometimes become our comfort, even if briefly. And in today’s world of fleeting connections, dating apps, and emotional superficiality, such a story feels like a soothing balm.
