Although I have always been a film buff, I hadn’t gone to a theatre in a long time. But last evening, after hearing about Homebound, India’s Oscar nominee for 2026, something stirred within me. I booked my ticket online, reached INOX, and lo and behold—what a powerful film it turned out to be.
It is not merely a movie. It is an elegy of our time—etched on celluloid—of our country, of our contemporary era. What begins as the story of two young men and their personal losses soon expands into a haunting collective experience. It becomes a commentary on our societal and cultural decline: a mourning of lost optimism, shattered dreams, fading ideals, and the fragmentation of communities.
The film by Neeraj Ghaywan on the story by Basharat Peer holds up a mirror to social injustice, human struggle, and even environmental crises like the COVID-19 outbreak. This “elegy of our time” captures the collective grief and anxieties of today, urging us not just to lament but to rethink the very texture of life in the present.
The movie opens with the two protagonists Ishan Khatter as Shoaib Ali and Vishal Jethwa as Chandan Kumar travelling to appear for a competitive exam—a journey that itself feels like a battle. The railway station scene is unforgettable: chaos everywhere, hopelessness deeply etched on the faces of the young. You feel the weight of a generation fighting for breath.
The film is full of such searing images:
The construction site where Chandan’s mother works barefoot, a stark reminder of inherited suffering—katile pair hi virasat mein.
Shoaib struggling to produce his parents’ Aadhaar cards—a commentary on bureaucratic heartlessness.
The stark transition between black-and-white and sepia tones, reflecting memory, trauma, and time.
Entrenched untouchability, shown through children withdrawing from school meals because a Dalit cooked them.
The centuries-old caste system, refusing to die.
Chandan’s idealism touched me deeply. His reasoning—“If I get a job through reservation, I will still be mopping office floors without dignity”—is both heartbreaking and profoundly insightful.
The office cricket match, with its taunts and covert bigotry, hits hard. As Muslims, many of us have lived that reality. The film’s honesty is disarming; it is so true, so authentic, so painfully genuine. The systematic marginalisation of Muslims in India is portrayed not with exaggeration, but with quiet, precise truth.
Sudha’s tender plea to Chandan—“Paapa ko itni baar haarte huye dekha hai… I wanted to fulfil his dreams through you”—is one of the film’s emotional peaks.
Then comes the sudden outbreak of COVID—the government’s knee-jerk lockdown, mills closing overnight, an eerie silence descending upon the city. Workers, desperate to return home, begin their long exodus. Police brutality, fear, confusion, paranoia—everything is captured with devastating accuracy.
When Chandan is thrown out of the truck mid-journey, the scene is unforgettable. Villagers hurl stones at exhausted migrants, refusing them entry. Yet, in that darkness, a lone woman steps forward with water—resisting pressure, embodying the last flicker of humanity.
The dying scene—quiet, raw, unadorned—will remain etched in the memory of every viewer.
The performances are extraordinary. Ishaan Khatter delivers the finest role of his career, and his co-star Vishal Jethwa matches him every step of the way, both embodying a generation caught between despair and resilience. Janhvi Kapoor, Harshita Parmar as Vaishali and Shalini Vatsa as Phool Chandan’s mother were remarkable as were other casts too. The dialogues are sharp and hard hitting.
Homebound is not just a film—it is a document of our times. A lament, a mirror, and perhaps even a warning.
