Qala - A Spiritual Review

Just watched Qala and I'm still here, sitting on my chair marveling at how unhealed mother wounds can drive one to the point of insanity. Perhaps, it was the film's beautiful and haunting cinematography that is a poignant visual description of mental illness, perhaps it is the subject - a disturbing relationship between mother and daughter.

But much like the central protagonist, the viewer also feels suffocated. Suffocated by the fame, prosperity, light. That difference between the external (light) and internal (darkness) is scary as it is the most silent. Every time Qala takes one more step into darkness to achieve her mother's dreams, a part of her soul is quietly chipped away. The most grotesque of scenes in the movie are the most silent, thus showing that child abuse, sexual abuse, murder always happens in darkness and silence. So why does Qala not stop? Because, sometimes, our desire for love and acceptance from our closest ones can also act as blinders and blind us to our own intuition. Our own well-being. Watching the film from a spiritual lens, I cannot help but wonder what would have happened if Jagan hadn't died. He seemed like the only character who sings because music is his life. Unlike Qala who sings for her mother's approval, unlike her mother for whom music is a matter of family prestige or the likes of Sumant Kumar or Mr. Sanyal for whom music is a source of power. In the death of the only person who genuinely cares for music, the film shows how creativity and lifeforce dies in a patriarchal capitalist industry. Qala is not a film that can be forgotten. It is a feverish art piece, like Edvard Munch's Scream, that needs to be processed. I wish more people realise the importance of working on mother wounds instead of giving in to darkness as Qala does. I hope this film makes people look at their life and see how they have allowed their parents to dictate even the most subconscious of their habits. And I hope they are able to work through them. #Qala #TriptiDimri