THE FORGOTTEN STORIES

Over the decades, Malayalam cinema has often used female characters to uphold male protagonists, reinforcing the power dynamics in favor of men. This pattern, normalized and celebrated as long as the hero “wins” the situation, has shaped narratives for years. However, in recent times, audiences have begun to unlearn this ingrained bias, recognizing it as something that needs to be critiqued rather than celebrated.  Aashiq Abu’s Rifle Club breaks away from this mold, igniting the fiery tension of a wild war in the Western Ghats. What sets this film apart is its portrayal of women— each female character is uniquely strong and layered, claiming her identity with confidence. From being mocked for being “just a woman” to owning the scene, characterisations of women in Malayalam cinema are beginning to emerge as unstoppable forces. Society often perpetuates the stereotype that women, being emotional, are inherently weaker or less stable in grave situations. Instead, the movie shows that ...

I think more than ghost stories, most people are afraid of the unknown. The  unknown when transforms into a more fearful truth can devastate a person’s entire existence. V.K Pavithran’s  1989 movie Utharam is based on Daphne Du Maurier’s short story “No Motive”. It follows Balu’s quest to uncover the truth behind the mysterious and unexpected suicide of Leena, his best friend Mathew’s wife and someone he considers family.  Balu’s investigative skills as a journalist lead him to some strange and unexpected revelations about Leena’s past. He discovers that Leena had a completely different personality and a  shocking, forgotten history. Despite being a generous person and loving wife of Mathew, Leena lived a seemingly perfect life, content and unaware of her repressed memories. Her life as a poet and a loving partner to Mathew appeared nothing short of perfection. Yet one fine day she decided to take her life in the spur of the moment.  Unlike most mystery movies ...

Kiran Rao’s “Laapataa Ladies” is a social satire that offers entertainment as well as empowerment. The movie humorously portrays the grave realities of a patriarchal society with the help of a simple story and background. As the name and the trailer suggested, it revolves around two newly married brides who get lost on the way to their in-laws’ home. While Jaya, whom Deepak accidentally brings home instead of his wife Phool, seizes this opportunity to follow her dream, Phool undergoes profound personal growth during the time. This period shows multiple women discovering themselves. Some learn to do things that they love for themselves while others learn to explore and embrace their talents.  Even though Jaya and Phool are two contradictory characters, they are both equally victims of patriarchal conditioning. While Jaya is ready to break and act against all the norms of society from the very beginning by uttering the name of her husband to everyone’s disbelief, Phool learns to do t...

  Madeline’s mirror told her she’s fat, It appalled at her shapeless dress, Covering a chunk of flesh. She looked at her broad shoulders  And big breasts,  which reminded her of a pile of  clothes that no longer fits her. But Madeline smiled and applied her eyeliner effortlessly. Her mirror sneered at her  chafing thighs kissing each  other when she moves. Madeline’s mirror found her  plush lips contradicting  the pair of flesh  on either side of it. It spotted the two chins fighting for space like contestants in the combat zone. Madeline admired her freckleless skin, and applied her favourite lipstick. The mirror reflected  her flabby arms  complementing her  saggy belly. Madeline moved closer  to her mirror,  which still in oblivion,  started to produce sympathetic smiles at her legs. It mirrored how her legs carry all the weight, hiding under her flowy dress. Appreciating her silky hair and perfectly manicured...

  Kaathal - The Core is one of the movies of 2023 that left an ache in my heart. It's the kind of movie where you just sit and stare at the wall for hours after you finish it. I keep thinking about the pain of Mathew, Omana, Thankan and Chachan and it is something that continues to haunt me. Mathew’s pain is something that has become part of him by living the prime of his life pretending to be an integral part of a heteronormative society. His calm and meek personality is like a dormant volcano that is likely to erupt anytime. When he confronts his pain with Chachan and Omana, we see him peeling off his outer layer of crust and showing us his core. The core, that has carried deep wounds of fear and shame of coming out and confronting his fears, all this while.  I don’t think I have seen a more compassionate and kind woman as Omana in recent movies. Despite being in a marriage that doesn’t fulfill her needs, she stays in it for years for the sake of Mathew. And when the right ...

“Hi, I'm Chandler. I make jokes when I'm uncomfortable" might be the perfect introductory sentence to Chandler Bing. He is undoubtedly one of the best characters in the show who captured our hearts and imagination with his good looks, charm and wit. I remember growing up, watching the show, loving the characters and loving Chandler Bing a bit more. It’s unfortunate and heartbreaking to think of  his demise. The timely sarcastic dialogues and the complementing mannerisms made us all laugh with him. The sheer delight on his face when he can pass on a funny comment to his friends is nothing but a treat to eyes. His exemplary friendship with Joey,  his imperfectly perfect relationship with Monica , and every little sweet and awkward things that he does for his friends are something that we wish to have in real life. From a character having commitment issues and who was “…Hopeless And Awkward And Desperate For Love.”due to his struggled childhood to the one who starts a new lif...

  Mike Flanagan is undoubtedly one of the best gothic television series makers of the contemporary industry. Flanagan’s The Haunting series, The Midnight Club and Midnight Mass are the much praised examples of his style and work. Adding to his finest collection is his adaptation of Edgar Alan Poe’s “The Fall of the House of Usher”. Divided into 8 episodes the series is a brilliant and modern tribute to Poe’s most celebrated short story. While Poe’s story of Usher remains the heart of the series, it is unified to the body by attaching different organs based on other works of Poe including The Masque of the Red Death, Murder in the Rue Morgue, The Black Cat, The Pit and the Pendulum, The Raven, and many more. The nefarious Patriarch of the Usher family, Roderick Usher (Bruce Greenwood), whose legacy is maintained through his several wicked and selfish children , his equally ruthless twin sister Madeline (Mary McDonnell) who is loyal towards her brother and their opiate empire Fortuna...

 Mothers are always praised and glorified for the sacrifices that they make and are called supermoms, if they find a balance with their family and work life. Movies have always portrayed mothers as either sacrificial or supermoms. But do all the mothers choose the same road?  Maggie Gyllenhaal's 'The Lost Daughter' speaks for all the flawed unnatural mothers. People who become mothers at an early age, who feel traumatized by the whole new version of themselves, who live in fear of losing their original identity in the run for creating one for their children, who make choices selfishly regardless of their children's needs. Leda in the movie, in fear of losing her individuality in the love for her children, takes a decision to focus on her career. She finds it as an amazing experience and embraces everything that she desired, peeling off the perfect mother image that she is supposed to keep.  When women are considered to have innate motherness in them, people don't re...

  I let myself sink into you,  Taking deep dips,  Not letting myself float.  You kept the rhythm of ocean Calm and said the waves To come another day.  I got lost in the tranquility of your arms,  Seeking an abode for eternity,  Reaching out in bliss.  Maybe If I could live here forever,  I would dance at a different pace,  guided by the warmth of your heart. I see no lines seperating us,  Shutting down the little fragments of overthinking,  I place you close to my bosom,  Never to let you go.  Making all the falsities disappear,  I'm riveted by the hold of your hands,  the sheer joy on your face  At the movement of my eyelashes,  Making me fall all over again.  You asked me if you could join in my agony,  If you could make me think of  Things of joy, Checking my pulse and it's  dramas,  You dived deep into me,  Untangling the mysterious cords,  that encircled me....

  I have always felt that life is like a vast ocean. Most times it gets messy like the ocean, but we love it for it's calmness and the vastness. Even when it's messy we move with it, unable to predict the outcome. All our emotions that we hold, bitter or sweet, we let them grow with  us freely, just like the waves. We love and hate, we fight and cry, even if we don't want, we can't help ourselves from doing it. Because we have become so accustomed with the beauty it reflects.  We feel that we know everything about the people very close to us, but when we look deep into each one of them, just like the mysterious ocean, we get to see all the bitterness,  heartbreaks, insecurities and everything that they don't want us to see. We love and lose hoping to find a shore from the clutches of this chaotic mystery.  We move with our messy lives hoping  to clear the mess. But as the waves grow stubborn, it gets deeper and deeper we get entangled with it, leaving us in...

  We were young girls Who used to play at the beach,  Hugging, we watched the sun drowning.  We danced till the candyman went home,  Our skirts swayed with the wind,  Cajoling us to stay a bit longer.  We never thought this picture would fade away.  I know this would never come back,  But I want to feel again.  I want to go back where my heart is.  All I want is to be free and feel again.  The colours and smell still linger with me,  I miss the happiness I felt,  The aches that watered me.  My skin misses the way it felt,  My hair misses the gentle kiss of the beach wind The bookstores and beach waters wait for us,  They send a thousand silent sirens to us,  When will we feel it again?  The recklessness of age,  the courage of freedom,  the music in our brains,  And the limbs that never stopped.  The yellow city lights Gladly kissing the fine roads,  absorbed our shadows,...

  Don't go to the morrows,  I haven't had enough of you For all my love that I contained  for the past years was just released.  And when I see you leave,  I don't know what to do with all the love,  I don't know how to complete our broken conversations.  I told myself it was just a bad dream,  Only it is not.  People said we were too good together and our smiles synced And we seemed to be in Paradise of love.  So don't go to the morrows,  If we stick together,  We can create a better symphony,  we can be each other's muses,  where you can paint me While I write about you.  And now that I think of it,  It has always been you in my poems,  Several people asked me 'who are you? I told them you are everyone,  Everyone and everything that loved me,  But they were not convinced.  They want 'the one' I can't give them 'the one' when there is no 'one'.  That's when you decided to go,  ...

  When you see me again,  Let us talk about the things we enjoyed.  Like the movie we watched in  which the man never found true love,  But where the woman cried a lot Over her loneliness,  And you told she resembles me,  her pale features were like mine,  Adding beauty to my smile.  And this being the only thing That we enjoyed,  I may not know what to talk about next.  Just as you left in the middle of our picnic last month,  I kept staring at the untouched sandwich that I made for you,  And when I made peace with your plans,  You kept changing my playlist,  telling me I should be mature.  You brought things that my cat found amusing,  And told me to get rid of her,  But instead, I burnt your things,  Amusing her again.  You hated my makeup and told me I Looked lovely without it,  So I darkened my Lip shade,  Cropped and colored my hair.  You told me to eat more because...

  Black and white photographs Hanging on the wall, behind me,  Dance at the company Of sheer curtains.  Fresh coffee rings on the table Cuddle with the lacquer crying for my attention.  The chandelier wonder  At the brightness of daylight,  And my little heart  Wonders at the lies I heard.  I feel nauseous at how I  Put up with all those lies.  I'm just so tired of the notion of truth.  what a pathetic little heart! What naivety and vulnerability has Consumed you.  You made me think I own  the autumn,  That I can have him all for myself  In my private abode.  That spurious affection was Afterall nothing but a lie,  And my foolish heart  created fake scenarios,  with every word of Autumn,  who would give a peck on the neck,  With a pat on the back.  What a pathetic little heart!  You never understood What seasons meant,  You never realized they belong to  each othe...

  Far above the oceans,  Icarus witnessed the beauty of life,  The vast lands beckon him.  He turned to get one last glimpse of  Cnossus,  The island that displays the prowess Of his father,  Whose instructions clouded Icarus  Every second of his life.  The labyrinth and its strangeness,  Something that he was always trying to escape,  Icarus felt his father's maze all around him,  winding around his adolescence,  like a poisonous snake.  But the wings and its independence,  gave him choice,  He wished to touch the sky,  breaking the paths of clouds,  He thought of singing a farewell song to Cnossus,  while desiring to touch the sun.  Daedalus's eyes send warning signals to his adolescent son,  while the fool enjoys his newfound freedom.  Icarus believed his father's talents,  not fragile to kill his son,  His heart desired  for a miracle,  For a moment where...

I was a drunken soul,  When I reached the cliff,  But sober enough to stop at the edge.  I stopped and thought why would I stop.  What feeling is better than  Floating freely in the air,  Feeling light and unburdened.  What feeling is better than,  flying with the birds And falling among the flawed trees. No romantic ecstasy can compete with that feeling.  Everything I left at that house,  Isn't mine to go back,  But everything that awaits beyond  this cliff is mine to embrace.  The cold chills me asking is it the right time?  When is the right time?  When is the right time to float?  I'm sober enough to remember My pain,  No drinking can diminish its essence,  No party can fade its dominance.  Happiness was a distant cousin,  Who would come like Christmas.  Yet I kept the Christmas lights for a longer time,  Hoping to keep the darkness away,  and Christmas never came as I ...

  As the church bell tolls,  The pigeons flew away from the parapet.  The shiny old white threads left on the Red aisle runner Struggle to break up from its clutches.  The wind becomes the professional bench drummer of hallelujahs,  And the pages of the Bible search for a reader.  As I entered, the guilty cobwebs hide Their faces behind the Chandelier,  reflecting its complex housing.  A curse has consumed this place,  The curse of lovers who were left at the altar. The church stopped functioning,  someday,  Because the people stopped coming someday.  And the choir stopped singing,  The weddings stopped And nobody was left at the altar.  They say it is the curse,  The curse of seven lovers who were left at the altar,  Over the seven years.  The lovers who left the town in shame Never came back.  But people shared stories of cruel brides and cruel grooms,  Who left their lovers at the altar. Th...

                                           The children of dreamers Emerge from the wombs of their mothers,  Into a world, they watched inside,  Their aura make the sun jealous as they make their first cry,  Holding all the energies in their little hands.  They make their way to create the utopias their mothers viewed,  Charging up at every critical juncture With a feisty mind.  They watch their words becoming actions,  Crawling out of every dark cave that traps them,  Breaking the gardens of inappropriations,  Guarding every door of justice.  The children of dreamers love and love,  Never making their hearts go jaded,  Their love conspires to form a wormhole connecting dreamers,  Where they plan their world.  Their magnificent dreams,  Challenging the realities,  Lure many to sabotage the plans,...

    Every week I come to the lake,  To talk and look at you as always,  But sometimes I feel you don't listen And you have gone too far.  I remember the day we met,  You came to me like summer,  Bright and shining  Fresh and green as the summer garden.  The tiny pimples on your cheek Said hello to me.  I remember how we connected,  And before we know,  We became inseparable,  Like a neatly solved jigsaw puzzle,  We solved each other.  Our friendship thrived through hard times,  And we survived most storms together,  Seeking shelter in each other's arms.  But never did I realise the mechanics of the mind,  Your mind worked in mysterious ways and whenever I tried to enter,  You shut the doors and sealed them.  You never reached out for help or a tissue,  But kept on amusing me with your buffoonery.  It was only when your cold body was taken out of the lake,  I realized y...

  I hear murmurings from the graveyard In the West of the town,  Of married women,  Dead and disappeared years ago.  I wonder what a time they had,  What a life they lived.  Their husbands weep and weep and forget them,  They praise how they looked after their women,  Covering in glittery gold,  Buying them silly silks,  Giving makeup for a make-over.  But still, the women murmur,  Their voices seem to break the edges of tombs.  They force the sun to dry out the flowers on them quickly.  I lowered my face and listened to the tombs,  It seems their lipstick was revolting,  Their eyelashes lifted to show the desperation.  They talk about the lies they had to live through,  In fear of strangers' pointing fingers on getting a hint on their unhappy marriages.  They call out their abusive partners,  Told me to look for the broken bangles behind the kitchen for proof,  The blood-stained clo...