not sure how successful batra is in showing sheela’s rather contemplative journey back to her roots but what he does do well in this hour long piece is to show the detachment from truth and half baked knowledge that the small-talk people peddle at these delhi farm parties. questions are asked which are either too immature or stir up very little thought.

She is always surrounded by a swarm of people half-interested in what she has to say while she…

a meditative ode to an ancestral home that breathes through celebrations and its people, grieves in silence and embraces its journey through time almost as if embodying the soul of baba. the intimate humanisation of the house evolves parallel to the gradual parting of the family only to be completely abbreviated into photographs slid into thin plastic films of an album, writings and translucent memories.

the poised camerawork—always static and mostly wide—and the atmospheric sound design bear a striking semblance…

earth and dust.

dust. if earth/ soil suggests the complete subservience to gravity, floating dust is a rather final descent into ruination. wanting to find someone to agree to the ultimate closure to his misery, mr badii drives through rugged narrow roads of hills outside of Tehran incentive-coating his request to strangers. having found no one to cover him with earth he sits in the middle of a construction site, tranced and absorbed in dust. ready like this golden dust,…