
BOLLYWOOD: STORIES OF STRUGGLE AND SURVIVAL
by Arnab Banerjee September 29 2025, 12:00 am Estimated Reading Time: 5 mins, 58 secsThe marginalised have never had it easy—but in our own fractured land, their journey is not just arduous, it is often soul-scarring, as Neeraj Ghaywan’s Homebound reveals. Arnab Banerjee’s review of the film.
Homebound, directed by Neeraj Ghaywan and written with Varun Grover, Shreedhar Dubey, and Sumit Roy, is a poignant exploration of caste, faith, friendship, and survival in contemporary India. The marginalised have never had it easy—but in our own fractured land, their journey is not just arduous, it is often soul-scarring, as Neeraj Ghaywan’s Homebound reveals. Arnab Banerjee’s review of the film.
With unforgettable performances, sharp social commentary, and emotional depth, Homebound stands as an unflinching cinematic mirror to caste oppression, religious prejudice, and human dignity in India today.
Director: Neeraj Ghaywan
Cast: Ishaan Khatter, Vishal Jethwa, Janhvi Kapoor, Shalini Vatsa, Harshika Parmar, Pankaj Dubey, Shreedar Dubey
Screenwriter: Neeraj Ghaywan, Varun Grover, Shreedhar Dubey, Sumit Roy
Duration: 1 hour 59 minutes
Rating: ★★★½☆
The marginalised have never had it easy—but in our own fractured land, their journey is not just arduous, it is often soul-scarring. Neeraj Ghaywan’s Homebound, his second feature, offers no comfort, no veils. Instead, it lays bare a reality so raw, it bleeds—inviting us to confront a truth that many choose to look away from: the injustice that corrodes from within, subtle yet systemic, ancient yet ever-evolving.
At the heart of Homebound are two childhood friends, Shoaib (Ishaan Khatter) and Chandan (Vishal Jethwa), born into dust and dreams in a nondescript village of Uttar Pradesh. One is a Dalit, the other a Muslim. Both are children of deprivation, bound by poverty, caste, and faith—by the invisible hand that pushes them to the edges of society. Yet what binds them more fiercely is a shared hunger—not just for survival, but for dignity. Their singular goal: to don the khaki, to serve as police officers, to reclaim the respect that life has long denied them.
The Pandemic And Its Deep Wounds
But these are not the archetypal people who strive we often encounter in feel-good cinema. Their obstacles are not merely logistical, but deeply social. Chandan is told he is lucky—for being a Dalit, for existing in a country where reservation, as some claim, levels the playing field. Shoaib, meanwhile, is never allowed to forget who he is. A casual remark during a cricket match between India and Pakistan cuts so deep that it pushes him to abandon the job his family desperately needs—because even silence, in his world, becomes a scream of survival.
Homebound draws its heartbeat from Basharat Peer’s 2020 New York Times article, Taking Amrit Home—a meditation on the migrant crisis during the first pandemic lockdown. From this seed of journalistic truth, Ghaywan grows a narrative both intimate and epic. He never preaches; instead, he presents. He does not manufacture emotion; he uncovers it.
Shoaib ends up working as a peon in a local firm, where humiliation is dished out not in loud proclamations but in passing jibes. Whether it’s a cricket match or a lunch break, reminders of his ‘otherness’ hang in the air like thick smog. Chandan, too, is not spared. A government officer, dripping with casual cruelty, puts him ‘in his place’—reminding him that caste in India is not dead, only better dressed.
Yet amidst the indignities, Ghaywan brings us close to their lives—Shoaib’s struggling family, Chandan’s strong-willed mother Phool (a luminous Shalini Vatsa) and his sister Vaishali (Harshika Parmar), and their daily conversations laced with existential resolve. It is this attention to the texture of the everyday that lends the film its quiet magnificence. These are not statistics; they are people.
Rage And Raw Performances
The pandemic, when it arrives, doesn’t just disrupt—it deepens existing wounds. As lockdowns descend, so too does despair. Peer’s article was inspired by a haunting image: two young men on a deserted highway, one collapsed, the other holding him—symbolic of a nation’s indifference and the migrant’s impossible odyssey. Ghaywan takes that spirit and crafts something deeply cinematic, yet emotionally grounded.
As the two friends’ inch closer to their goals, the fissures between them begin to show. Adversity doesn’t always unite—it sometimes divides. Shoaib and Chandan, though bonded by origin, are shaped by diverging experiences. The pandemic is their test, and it is brutal. Dignity becomes the ultimate battleground.
Ghaywan’s direction is particularly powerful in the pre-pandemic segments—rich in detail, simmering with restrained fury. His simmering rage—born of a sharp-eyed observation of a society turned upside down—is both courageous and necessary in today’s climate of political intolerance. His anguish resonates deeply, not only with those directly affected, but also with anyone possessing the sensitivity to see, to feel, and to stand in quiet solidarity with the oppressed.
The later scenes, though poignant, occasionally falter in their execution. Some dialogues feel overly expository, some staging a bit stiff. And amid it all - Janhvi Kapoor’s Sudha, a Dalit girl who urges Chandan to stay in school - feels like an appendage—unearned and underwritten. Where the film also falters slightly is in the philosophical maturity it bestows upon its young leads. Shoaib, Chandan, and even Sudha, at times, articulate pain with a clarity that might seem beyond their years. But perhaps this, too, is part of the truth—when you are born into survival, childhood ends early. Dreams must be explained, not just dreamt. Anger must be reasoned, not merely felt.
Yet despite these minor stumbles, Homebound rises—steadily, painfully, beautifully. It is not the journey of heroes, but of human beings carrying the weight of generational injustice on tired shoulders. It is the rage in Ghaywan’s storytelling—never explosive, always present—that makes this film necessary. In a time of rising intolerance, the narrative refuses to sanitise or explain itself to the West. It speaks in its own tongue, from its own truth. And in doing so, it becomes universal.
The performances are a triumph of internalisation. Ishaan Khatter, as Shoaib, is especially affecting—his portrayal marked by a quietude that says more than a thousand monologues. Vishal Jethwa brings simmering urgency to Chandan, while Shalini Vatsa is unforgettable, anchoring her scenes with grace and grit.
Ultimately, Homebound is not just a film—it is an act of remembrance. Of those who walk back home because the system left them stranded. Of those who smile through caste slurs because fighting back would cost too much. Of those whose friendship is the only thing they own in a world that offers them nothing. And yet, they persevere. Not as symbols. As sons, brothers, friends.
Writer director Neeraj Ghaywan’s lens is tender, but unflinching. He offers us not a sermon, but a mirror. The question is—are we willing to look?