Shruti Sonal

We've always been taught that 'growing up' is a linear process. There's an age to make mistakes, there's an age for consequences. There's an age to be free, there's an age to be rooted. Over the years, numerous 'coming-of-age' films have told us that there comes a time in your life (most likely when you're moving from high school to college) where you figure out things: all about love, heartbreak, and more. Then, you get a job, and follow the course of life as it comes. And yet... Time and again, we find that the juncture does not come once, but multiple times in our lives. Junctures where we find ourselves 'lost', struggling to decode what paths to take, how to overcome fears, and how to get over a heartbreak that's seemingly 'silly'. "I'm too old to be feeling this way", a friend told me recently. And yet... We all do. We come of age, again and again, till the day we go to our graves. We find love, get married. Some of us get divorced. A few of us get remarried. A few of us don't. A few of us choose to never marry. A few of us find much more meaning in friendships than romantic relationships. A few of us find joy in kids, a few of us can't imagine being in the same room with them. Over and over again, we find ourselves experiencing grief, hope, love and its lack. Over and over again, we find ourselves battling insecurities that we once thought would cease to exist once we were no longer teenagers. Then it hits you: time is an abstract concept, isn't it? This year, I'll turn thirty. And I have realised that I've only begun to understand parts of myself. It's a process that comes with no deadline, or guarantees of no reversals. It's why I also find myself turning to films about ‘growing up’ where the protagonists are much older. And their battles are young. . . . . . . . . #cinema #cinephile #growingup #worstpersonintheworld #quotes #writingcommunity #writers

Many years ago, I fell in love with words, and since then, have used them to write poetry, build fictional worlds, and engage in journalistic pursuits. A common thread that has run through all of them has always been cinema, a medium of art which has made my happy days happier, and bad days a little easier to go through. I've written about films and how they make me see the world, in all its tenderness and complexities. However, there's a book that I've been wanting to read for a long time, involving characters and common people that often tend to languish at the periphery of our memories. So I decided to try and write it. And as someone said, “kisi cheez ko poore dil se chhaho…” @filmcompanion x @asuitableagency thank you for this opportunity!

"There are years that ask questions, and years that answer them." This is a quote that I repeated to myself over and over again, on days that little made sense. Yet, when nothing else helped, and the world seemed too complicated to figure out, I wrote. I wrote about Maa, all that she meant to me, the dreams that we couldn't fulfill, the places we couldn't go, and the love and kindness she left behind... I wrote because if I didn't, I thought I'd float away like a helium balloon, with nothing to hold me back. It's a weird feeling: to hold the first physical copy of MY book in my hands and not be able to show it to her. She'd post it on Facebook, like she always did with my poetry. It's a weirder feeling to know that the poems would not be born if not for her absence itself. It's bittersweet, but also, a form of blessing. I know what SRK means when he says that it broke his heart to not have his parents see his good moments, but in a way, it was their blessings propelling him. The poems are tender, raw, and honest. The only way I know how to write. Many of you have found solace in it over the years, and written to me in your moments of loss and vulnerability. I hope you find a place for this physical copy in your lives and on your shelves too. I love the cover- the calligraphy, and the saree border. I wanted to go with an indie publisher because a part of me found the poems too personal. I also wanted to go with an indie publisher because they're the ones who first published writers such as Vikram Seth, before they went on to become big names. They took a chance, in a world that poetry has sadly been reduced to reels and two-line captions. I hope you give it love. It requires tremendous strength to put so many pieces of my heart out there, into this world. But it's been amazing. To you, Maa. And to everyone who has loved and lost. My book "In Which Language Do I Remember You?" I will post details about ordering it + a physical launch soon :) . . . #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #writer #poem #poetrycommunity

It's been several days since I first watched this rom-com. And I cannot stop thinking about it. A rare feat in the age of binge-watching, where shows are often designed as 'content', a breezy viewing experience that focuses on you hitting the 'next episode' button. In this age, we all know that rom-coms have taken a hit. It's hard to leave behind the tropes, or offer something which feels fresh or new to an audience addicted to multiple shots of serotonin boost in a day. In the midst of all this, I came across this Spanish show 'A Muerte' (Love You To Death in English). It felt like a cool breeze in the middle of a hot summer day. Or the first time you dip your feet into sea water on your vacation. Or the first bite of the season's mango. You get the drift. It revolves around Raul and Marta, who went to school together, but never spoke to each other. They have a classic meet cute... At a funeral. Raul's world is unraveling: he has just found out he has cancer, while his girlfriend of four years has dumped him (not knowing about his terminal disease). Marta, on the other hand, is an advertising professional who is unexpectedly pregnant. Again, themes that could easily be cliched or run-through if not treated with the humour and tenderness that this show does. It's not easy to joke about death, travails of motherhood, or the pity party that arrives when you get heartbreaking news. Yet, this show gets that exactly right. For most of the episodes, i watched with a stupid grin on my face. And by the end, I was a mess... A pool of tears. I think that's the best part about all good art: it devastates you and heals you in equal measure. It makes you believe in love and hope, despite the sense of mortality and fears that we experience everyday. It makes you take that leap of faith, to hold on to fleeting moments of beauty, and to scream from the rooftops 'please watch this'. It's the kind of story I wish I wrote. With the kind of characters I wish were my friends. And the most interesting female protagonist I've seen in a while: she's allowed to be messy, confused, empathetic, fun, fucked up, beautiful. It's a story I'll keep going back to. #amuerte #writings #romcoms

No torn blouses, leering villains and vigilante justice. Filmmakers are moving beyond tropes to confront the ordinariness of sexual offenders and systems that enable everyday harm. My story in today's Sunday Times. . . . #cinema #hindifilms #assi #taapseepannu #chiraiya

From jobs to scholarships, marriages to accommodation... Everything seems to hang in a balance for transgenders across the country, as a Bill threatens to take away rights, privacy, and dignity. Their stories must be told. . . . . . #TransBill #transrights

Project Hail Mary is really the definition of 'hope core'. Never knew I could cry so much over an alien that looks like a rock. We need more movies with Ryan Gosling wearing cardigans and nerdy glasses. . . . . . . . . . #projecthailmary #cinema #hope #writingcommunity #ryangosling

Excerpts from 'Leaving and Arriving', an extremely personal essay I wrote about changing houses, cities, and finding a place of one's own in this world. It has found a home in The City, an anthology of new Indian writing published by @hammockmag , alongside some brilliant pieces of fiction and non-fiction . Consider getting a copy? :)

We discussed Bombay poets in Delhi with the launch of @saranyalol ’s Absent People, Absent Places with @shruti_writes at @planterie.in . Signed copies are available at @midlandbooksofficial and @kunzum . Get yours today! [poetry, poet, bombay poems, bombay poetry crawl, indian poems, identity, displacement, depression, confessional poetry, insta poems, poem of the day, poets of instagram]

#Dilli, we have a special evening planned for you! @saranyalol and @shruti_writes will be reading poems from Absent People, Absent Places. Join us this Thursday at @planterie.in ! [poetry, poet, bombay poems, bombay poetry crawl, indian poems, identity, displacement, depression, confessional poetry, insta poems, poem of the day, poets of instagram]

I think some movies find you when you need them the most. Like some books which keep lying on your shelf, gathering dust, till the day you suddenly pick them up, and devour them in a single go. I had been meaning to watch Hamnet for a while. I knew it would destroy me, make me so, and break my heart. Maybe, that's why I kept putting it off. Then, one day, I sat down to watch it online. After a couple of scenes, I paused. I knew I wanted to watch this movie in the theatre. I didn't know back then when it'd be released in India, but I decided to wait. Today, all by myself, I sat and watched this meditation on grief and art. And boy, did I need it. The past few days haven't been great, to put it mildly. After seeing my mother battle cancer and then succumb to Covid, I found out that my father too has cancer. It's early stage, the curable kind, I was told. Yet, a deep, unsettling fear filled me up. As if I could sense mortality around me, as if life was a ticking clock. I resisted writing about it. I didn't want my life to be a series of recoveries: hopping from one life-altering event to the next. I wanted to look at the sky and say, please, I have had enough character development. I don't want to intellectualise, or find meaning in any of this. I don't want symbols, or displays of strength. And then, I saw this film. It felt like a reminder to myself that it's okay to be vulnerable while going through grief. There's a scene where Agnes, while giving birth to her child, calls out for her own deceased mother. It hit home: I guess, even as adults, we never stop looking for our mothers. I kept thinking about how things would be different if she was around. And how life would be if I had been dealt different cards. I was angry at words. A part of me felt like because I had perhaps been guilty of romancitising grief that I have been given more of it. I had stopped writing about myself for a while. But Hamnet came to me today. It reminded me that between life and death, love and loss, the only thing we can do is keep our hearts open. And perhaps, the words we write about our own lives, matter. . . . . . . . . #hamnet #cinema #writingcommunity #cinephile

In the aftermath of Boong's historic BAFTA win, a question was on everyone's mind: where have the children's films gone? In the world of mainstream Bollywood films, they seem like a distant memory. The likes of Bhoothnath and Makdee are nowhere to be found. However, I dug a little further, and found a number of indie films that are redefining the genre, and telling complex stories about children that go beyond formulas. Read? . . . . . #boong #cinema #writingcommunity