Homebound with Ishaan Khatter

Last night Dr. Lalchand & I watched Homebound, India’s submission to the Oscars, at Apple Cinemas in Cambridge, Mass. This sad film follows a Dalit (Chandan Kumar) and a Muslim (Mohammed Shoaib Ali) struggling against the odds during the pandemic, their solidarity fictionalized as a fragile bridge across India’s deepest divides.

On the surface, it is a familiar story: the disenfranchised facing systemic barriers. But what struck me was how privilege itself performed disenfranchisement. Ishaan Khatter, brother to Shahid Kapoor, plays the marginalized Muslim. Janhvi Kapoor, descended from Bollywood royalty, embodies a Dalit woman. Vishal Jethwa, a bright-eyed Gujarati, portrays the Bhojpuri Dalit lead. This is not unique to India; Hollywood, too, casts elites as workers. Yet it raises the question: when poverty is performed rather than lived, is it “Dalit-washing”?

Poverty, Emotion, and Representation

Watching the film, I reflected on poverty’s emotional landscape. For elites, emotions can be expansive, indulgent, aestheticized into art. For the working poor, emotions are often constrained by survival — narrowed into necessity. Homebound tried to humanize its characters, but I wondered whether it romanticized what in practice is a relentless narrowing of possibility.

The West rewards this narrative. Parasite in Korea, Iranian cinema, Slumdog Millionaire — poverty & Global South tribulations as spectacle becomes “poverty porn.” The Guardian gave Homebound four stars. Great art often tilts melancholic, yes, but here the melancholia is curated for Western consumption.

Identity, Vectors, and Islamicate Selfhood

More unexpectedly, the film stirred something personal. I realized how much I have vacated my own Islamic identity. It was not traumatic. As a Bahá’í with Persian cultural roots, I found overlap — even comfort — in Hindu traditions. Dalits, in their rapid Hinduization, represent one vector of assimilation; Muslims and scheduled-caste Muslims, often in tension, another. Homebound imagines solidarity, but in life these vectors pull unequally.

In India, I often pass for Sindhi or Punjabi, sometimes Parsi, occasionally “slightly off” but rarely judged. My social vectors now align with upper-caste Hindus. In another context — say, China — elite vectors might be Han. Everywhere, societies assimilate through dominant pathways: white vectors in the West, caste in India, Han in China. Identity is not fixed; it is channeled.

Kabirification and the Streisand Effect

Kabir is our Streisand Effect. Barbara Streisand’s lawsuit over an aerial photo turned obscurity into virality. Similarly, whenever Kabir announces his resignation from the Commentariat and then dramatically returns, BP’s comment boards surges with new life. Kabir is simply catnip for the Commentariat.

In the days of Qureshi, unabashed nationalist and Hinduphobe,  Kabir appeared moderate. After Qureshi’s departure, Kabir occupied the nationalist edge. When Kabir himself retreats, the burden of contextualizing Pakistan falls to me. The spectrum shifts with every absence.

BP’s health is not measured in page views alone (2,000 unique readers daily). It is measured in the vitality of the Commentariat. A dozen active voices outweigh hundreds of silent ones. Kabir, for better or worse, ensures Indo-Pak remains our gravitational center. The result is a virtuous/vicious cycle: more comments, more views, more posts. BP relives the Asian Cup endlessly, where point-scoring itself becomes the sport.

Pakistan, India, and the Cost of Narrative

Consider Pahalgam. Where is the evidence that Pakistan was directly involved? Unlike Balakot, where Islamabad was genuinely caught off-guard, here India did not pursue a rigorous process. That lapse has cost Delhi. Pakistan read the ambiguity and exploited it. Modi is constrained by public opinion. Trump, meanwhile, seems intent on exacting his revenge on India, further complicating the picture.

This is narrative as realpolitik: India faltered, Pakistan capitalized.

Closing Reflection

Between Homebound and Brown Pundits, cinema and commentariat, the thread is the same: how narratives shape reality. Films dramatize caste and religion through privilege masquerading as disenfranchisement. Commentators dramatize national rivalries, keeping Indo-Pak at the center. Both generate energy, attention, and life; sometimes authentic, sometimes stylized.

I do not intend to resolve these threads into one neat conclusion. They are fragments of an ongoing conversation: in my journal, on BP, in my newsletter, and even in yoga practice. What I know is this: Brown Pundits remains alive because disagreement remains alive. Kabir irritates, Kabir polarizes — but Kabirification, like the Streisand Effect, proves that attention flows where conflict sharpens.

And conflict, at least here, remains a source of life.