There was a melancholy soul named Shyamal—Shutu to his loved ones —living under the ephemeral canopy of McCluskieganj, where secrets reveled on whispers and memories clung onto mists. He was a soft waited brushstroke in the canvas of cousins yet one that is mainly lost amongst the louder strokes.
It was the haunting soundtrack of this film that played, and Shutu had to bear not only an academic failure. Inside him his heart bore the burden of unsaid words, unconsummated dreams and pain-trillions-and-more-minus-one-fold for he was an outcast in the very family that brought forth life to being among human. The massive, creaky structure was a veritable sentinel of days gone by and promised to be one for those yet to come.
In this article, or rather personal letter to Shutu, I would try my best at touching the enigma that was Shutu – The artist who painted with feelings; a friend forgoing celebrations in lieu of love and the lone soul wandering through Gunj in search of respite. Memory by memory, we uncover the depths of his being.
Dear Shutu (Shyamal),
I’m so sorry that the people with whom you had come on vacation as an escape became the reason for you doing what you did. Each of them has failed you be it as family or friend. When Masi got to know that you failed, she didn’t comfort you or tell you that it’s okay to fail. Nor did Bonnie di or Mimi. Failing in an exam doesn’t mean that you’ve failed in life. Nobody noticed the artist in you except Tani.
And so, you liked her. But then, you lost her because of choosing love over friendship. Shutu I wish you had taken every decision after thinking about your lonely mother who needed you so badly. Why didn’t you realise that the wolf had mercy on you that night for a reason. I know that nobody wanted you to be there. You were like an outsider.
So why didn’t you just leave from there? I would have loved to see you evolving to become a writer and then describing the pain you felt during that vacation in McCluskiegunj in one of your works. But then, you felt like you were not needed but I wish someone had told you that you were so precious. We don’t find anyone as innocent, kind and humble as you anymore.
Mihir, now a practicing doctor, gracefully navigates the delicate balance between the demands of medicine and the enchantment of cinema. Amidst patient consultations and hospital rounds, he finds sanctuary and inspiration in the magical world of film. For Mihir, movies are not merely an escape but a reservoir of renewed energy, where each frame whispers tales that reignite his spirit. His dual identity as a healer and a cinephile weaves a unique tapestry, lending Review Tales a voice that is both profound and poetic.