The disappearing Woman in Malayalam cinema, through the lens of 'Thudarum' and 'Chhota Mumbai'

The summer of 2025 was a great one for Mohanlal, whose fans have been showering him with adoration after a torrid few years at the box office. It started with Tharun Moorthy's 'Thudarum' which saw crowds throng their nearest theatres to witness what they were convinced was Mohanlal's 'comeback' film. The sobriquet "Malayalathinte Mohanlal" (Malayalam's Mohanlal) and the phrase "Mohanlal Thudarum" (Mohanlal will continue) spread like wildfire on social media. This celebration was further accentuated with the re-release of the cult classic film 'Chhota Mumbai', with visuals of fans going wild in the theatres gaining attraction. Amidst the festive spirit, there were a few things that irked me about the reaction to the films, which I realised was a worrying trend that has plagued the Malayalam industry since the turn of the century.

Learning to Adapt - My Tryst with Song Seo-rae

I still remember the first time I watched Oldboy - it was recommended to me during the lockdown era and I had too much time on my hands. That was the day I became a fan of Park Chan-wook's work and immediately delved into his filmography, binging all his films. There was a point in that period where I felt an Oldboy rewatch was mandatory - it was the only film I had kept downloaded on my phone for a very long time. It was during this rewatch that I noticed something that I still haven't forgotten - in the scene where Oh Dae-su encounters the outside world for the first time since being released from capture, he runs into a gang of street punks who promptly call him "Jjeoppangsae", subtitled as "Dickhead." This is a new word for Oh Dae-su, who has been cut off from the outside world for 16 years and has not been updated about the new words introduced into the Korean language (talk about being a boomer). Apart from the fact that I could relate with him in the sense that I too was forcibly holed up in my room rotting my time away for what seemed to be a frustratingly uncertain length of time, this was something I found fascinating. I too picked up words like this.

Rohith Chivukula

Payal's imagination gives us a near-perfect film in an otherwise bleak reality for the film industry

A common characteristic of most of what we refer to as big cities is that they are all expansive and yet at the same time they induce an incredible feeling of claustrophobia in you. It is not because of the sheer number of people who move to these cities in search of their dreams, but rather because of the severe lack of connectivity between them that makes one human to begin with. Migrating to a new city always takes away from one the comfort that a home provides - and the mundane life that awaits them leaves them in lieu of the warmth they need to get through a cold monsoon evening. Trapped in a never-ending loop of being a working professional and household chores, forced into a humdrum to work the cog of capitalism, how does one find time to comfort oneself? What of the dream, of the illusion of hope that they saw in their mind?

We Must Not Play Into The Silence

The 27th of October saw Liverpool playing at the Emirates Stadium, drawing 2-2 in an important match apropos of title chances. As a Liverpool fan, it was a frustrating watch for multiple reasons. Trent wasn't at his best, Arsenal scored two goals in the first half that could've been stopped, lacklustre football, and so on. None of these, however, was the most frustrating aspect of the game for me. The part of the game that saddened me the most was sometime in the second half when Arsenal's Number Five Thomas Partey was applauded by the home crowd after a successful tackle that stopped Liverpool's attack. This was the breaking point for me, someone who keenly listens to what the commentators have to say, after noticing that throughout the game the commentators mention everything but one glaring aspect about Thomas - that he is accused of rape and is out on bail for it.

Fare thee well, fare me well

For the better part of my life, I have known only one city. The city I grew up in, did my schooling in. I went to college here too. I've been navigating the same ways I've known all my life. I may have been born in Hyderabad, but Trivandrum is the city I hold closer to my heart - I take comfort in the warmth it provides (though of late it has been getting a bit too warm for my liking).

The Liberation of Sita, by Volga

The Ramayana is not a singular text; multiple versions exist across different periods. The Liberation of Sita is one such retelling through a feminist lens, sympathizing with the characters oppressed by the more popular versions of the Ramayana. Going against the traditional setting, Volga presents Sita as the protagonist, following her path to liberation from her husband Rama who betrayed her love for him.

The Festival of Insignificance, by Milan Kundera

Reading Kundera's final work of fiction is probably not the best way to get started on his oeuvre, considering that it is laconic, spanning just over a hundred pages. Despite this, The Festival of Insignificance is quite an interesting read; not just for the book itself, but also for what it tells us about Milan Kundera. His characteristic bons mots still stand out, like the passage about the nature of a Narcissus that was particularly enthralling. While it is a fun read, what I found more interesting was how the author handles himself throughout the book. This was, as I'd mentioned earlier, his last fiction novel before he passed away last year, and he was bound to get self-indulgent.

I Remain in Darkness, by Annie Ernaux

A journal of her thoughts during her mother's descent into death, Annie Ernaux is at her most vulnerable while documenting her interactions with her mother, and how she feels, all whilst combating an inner crisis born out of this. Annie's mother has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's and has to be moved to a geriatric ward, and things begin spiralling out of control. To become a mother to your own mother is not something one could prepare for even if they had time for it, but being thrust into that position with no warning is arguably worse. She envisions scenes from her childhood in her mother; repeating mannerisms and behaviour. For her, life has come a full circle, where she sees her past and her mother's present intertwine. Because of this, she feels a part of her is also waning along with her mother.

Rohith Chivukula

Stories as vessels, words as weapons.

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The disappearing Woman in Malayalam cinema, through the lens of 'Thudarum' and 'Chhota Mumbai'

Rohith Chivukula

Learning to Adapt - My Tryst with Song Seo-rae

Rohith Chivukula

Payal's imagination gives us a near-perfect film in an otherwise bleak reality for the film industry

Rohith Chivukula

We Must Not Play Into The Silence

Rohith Chivukula

Fare thee well, fare me well

Rohith Chivukula

The Liberation of Sita, by Volga

Rohith Chivukula

The Festival of Insignificance, by Milan Kundera

Rohith Chivukula

I Remain in Darkness, by Annie Ernaux

Rohith Chivukula