The semi-autobiographical story is a rare cinematic exploration of queerness in rural India and among the underprivileged. How do you hold on to your identity, sexuality as well as the beliefs and practices you hold dear in a harsh, difficult and conservative set-up? Sabar Bonda is about the many silent but categorical subversions that happen in the most traditional of folds. Often with a little helping hand from unanticipated quarters. In this case Anand’s parents.The most admirable, affirming aspect about the film is the parent-child relationship that lies at the heart of it—the unconditional love, unquestioning acceptance, support and understanding that Anand gets from his father and mother, breaking the cliche that liberalism, progressiveness and tolerance are factors of education, affluence and privilege. Not quite. Bigotry is often mere power-play and broad-mindedness can reside deep within the hearts of the disenfranchised and the powerless.Even in dealing with contentious ideas, Kanawade’s gaze remains gentle, tender. He skillfully mixes the real with the surreal. There is an authenticity to how the film is grounded in the rural interiors of Maharashtra, its culture and milieu. Then there is a dreamlike quality that imbues the frames as Anand reminisces about his father. The relationship between the two is my biggest takeaway from the film—going against the ideals and expectations of masculinity, marked by sensitivity and suffused with humanism.
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