Zahoor Zahid
(Consulting Editor)
Although I have always been a film buff, I had not watched a film in a cinema or multiplex for decades. The principal reason was that Bollywood gradually drifted away from purposeful cinema, with only a handful of genres dominating the screens. In contrast, I have continued to enjoy remarkable regional films and world cinema on OTT platforms, along with Hollywood films that consistently offer fresh perspectives and compelling storytelling.
Recently, renowned filmmaker, film critic, and writer Khalid Mahmood reviewed Imtiaz Ali’s “Main WapasAaunga”. His insightful review stirred my curiosity and rekindled my desire to experience a film on the big screen once again.
I asked a friend to accompany me without revealing our destination. When we reached INOX, he looked puzzled, assuming I had some work there. But when he saw me walking towards the ticket counter, he was genuinely astonished. Smiling, I told him, “Let’s watch this film.” Though reluctant at first, he eventually agreed.
The moment the film began, I was transported into a world of extraordinary imagination, sensitivity, and cinematic brilliance. I have always admired Imtiaz Ali for his craftsmanship and his exceptional ability to weave human emotions into unforgettable narratives. Yet this film felt different – more intimate, more profound, and deeply moving.
The story is of the pre-Partition era, when Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs lived together in an atmosphere of brotherhood, mutual respect, and shared humanity. Then comes the cataclysm of Partition, which tears apart not only families but also centuries-old bonds of trust and affection. Love gives way to suspicion, respect to hatred, and the secular fabric of society is ripped apart by violence and displacement.
At its heart, Main Wapas Aaunga is much more than a love story. It is a poignant exploration of loss, memory, longing, and the invisible wounds carried by those who survived one of history’s greatest human tragedies. The film reminds us that while people may cross borders, memories never do. They continue to knock at the doors of our conscience for as long as we live, refusing to fade into oblivion.
The story keeps you completely engrossed, carrying you through a rich tapestry of emotions from beginning to end. The dialogues are subtle, simple, and deeply evocative, conveying profound emotions without ever becoming theatrical. Every scene leaves you eager to discover what comes next. Imtiaz Ali moves effortlessly between the past and the present, weaving the two timelines together with remarkable fluidity. The transition is so seamless that you never feel disoriented; instead, you become immersed in the film’s world, almost as if you are living in the very era it portrays. Such is the magic of its storytelling that you cease to be a mere spectator and become an emotional participant. It is an exquisitely sensitive narrative, told with complete command over language, imagery, and cinematic expression. Every frame reflects artistic maturity, making the film not just a visual experience but an emotional and deeply human journey.
The performances are among the film’s greatest strengths. Naseeruddin Shah is simply magnificent. He does not merely play the character; he inhabits it with astonishing ease and authenticity. Every expression, pause, and gesture reflects the mastery of a true method actor. Unlike many of his contemporaries, who often rely on exaggerated mannerisms and star persona, Naseeruddin Shah allows the character to speak for itself. It is this rare ability to disappear into a role that has consistently set him apart as one of the finest actors Indian cinema has ever produced.
Sharvari is a delightful surprise. She looks radiant and graceful on screen, but it is her performance that truly leaves an impression. Her polished dialogue delivery, expressive eyes, and nuanced portrayal of human emotions reveal an actress of remarkable promise. If this performance is any indication, Bollywood has found a talent capable of surpassing many of her contemporaries. I have little doubt that in the years ahead she will establish herself among the finest actresses of her generation.
Vedang Raina is nothing short of a revelation. Belonging to our own motherland of Kashmir, he has given us yet another reason to feel proud. He becomes exactly what the character demands; completely immersed in the role with a maturity that belies his young age. Equally impressive is his musical talent. His deep, soulful voice carries an emotional warmth that gently soothes the listener, adding another dimension to his artistic personality.
The music by A. R. Rahman is, as one would expect, exquisite. It is understated yet profoundly moving, blending seamlessly with the narrative instead of overwhelming it. Every composition enriches the emotional landscape of the film, serving as the perfect complement to its storytelling. It is, indeed, the icing on the cake.
Equally deserving of praise is the cinematography by Sylvester Fonseca, a graduate of the Film and Television Institute of India. He has firmly established himself as one of the finest cinematographers working in Indian cinema today. Every frame is composed with painterly precision and poetic sensitivity. The visuals are breathtaking – not merely beautiful, but deeply expressive, capturing both the grandeur of the landscape and the intimate emotions of the characters with extraordinary finesse.
Partition remains one of the deepest wounds in the history of the subcontinent. Its stories continue to leave indelible scars on the emotional landscape of generations. Even after decades, the pain has not faded; it lives on in memories, in silence, and in the countless lives that were forever altered by the tragedy.
Our own Jammu and Kashmir, particularly the Jammu region, has witnessed equally painful and deeply disturbing chapters of history. There are stories of loss, displacement, courage, sacrifice, and humanity that are yet to find their rightful place on the silver screen. One wonders: who will have the courage and sensitivity to tell these stories? Will that day ever come?
It is often said that pain becomes lighter when it is shared. Perhaps that is the true purpose of cinema, not merely to entertain, but to bear witness to human suffering with honesty and compassion. Let us narrate these painful and agonizing stories, not to reopen old wounds or perpetuate hatred, but to honour the countless lives touched by tragedy and to celebrate the enduring values of brotherhood, love, compassion, and peaceful coexistence. If cinema can help us remember our shared humanity, it can also inspire us to build a future where such divisions are never repeated.
As the credits rolled, I realized that my return to the cinema after decades had been worthwhile. This was not merely a film; it was an emotional journey, one that lingered long after I had left the theatre. It reaffirmed my belief that when cinema is crafted with honesty, imagination, and compassion, it possesses the power not only to entertain but also to heal, provoke reflection, and remind us of our shared humanity. The friend who accompanied me to watch this film was none other than Chief Editor of this magazine Sajjad Bazaz. He squeezed my hand while we were leaving and quietly said thank you.
