Katlaa Curry (Gujarati) [Fish Curry]

Because regional Indian cinema seldom explores gay love stories, a Gujarati film tackling the subject feels significant from the start, especially as this one aims to convey a meaningful message regarding self-acceptance in a world that makes it so difficult. While the Narmada river villages serve as a visually stunning backdrop, and the care taken to capture that setting is palpable, the storytelling is where the film falters. The narrative suffers from scenes that drag on without purpose; a sharper edit focusing the camera on the actual process of how these two men fall for each other would have done the story much more justice.

After pulling a drowning Ratan from the water, a fisherman named Raaymal decides to mentor the gentle, withdrawn man who has had little experience with life. As Raaymal teaches him how to row, cook, and find his footing, a genuine friendship develops between the two. Their bond is complicated by their differing diets; Ratan does not eat meat, while Raaymal is devoted to his fish curry, a detail that becomes increasingly significant as their relationship evolves. When Ratan eventually reveals that he attempted suicide because his family rejected his sexuality, Raaymal simply laughs it off without judgment and helps Ratan build a home near the village. In a reciprocal gesture, Ratan learns to cook Raaymal’s favorite Katlaa curry, which Raaymal claims is the best thing he has ever eaten. When Ratan confesses his love, Raaymal is initially unsure how to react, having never truly sat with his own sexuality, yet he cannot ignore the pull he feels. This brief period of happiness is cut short when Raaymal’s mother begins pushing him toward marriage, and he ultimately yields to that pressure despite his true feelings. The resulting marriage is miserable, marked by constant conflict with his wife, particularly when she makes fish curry after he has specifically asked her not to. The turning point comes when a friend tells him plainly that love has nothing to do with gender, followed by his wife—who had quietly clocked the truth about him from the start—telling him that living according to the opinions of others is no way to live. These realizations finally prompt Raaymal to stop running from himself and return to Ratan.

There is an almost voyeuristic quality to watching this film, as if you have intruded upon these fishing communities uninvited; the textures of daily life and the bamboo shelters feel entirely unfiltered. While the story hits tender notes and possesses real warmth, I struggled to fully articulate why I could not quite feel it the way I wanted to, despite all its strengths. I respect that it never aims for melodrama, maintaining a gentle tone throughout where the queerness creeps in slowly and naturally rather than being announced. One of the most quietly romantic gestures in the whole film is Ratan, a vegetarian, cooking fish curry for a man who loves it. The way they communicate entirely through silences and glances, unable to acknowledge one another in the open, works beautifully in those moments. Although the wife’s maturity regarding the situation is interesting to watch, the film leaves her fate hanging without ever addressing what her life looks like after all of this, which deserved more attention. The ending lands well, giving both Raaymal and Ratan a person who makes them feel safe in a world that has not been kind to either of them—something they have never really had before. Ultimately, my main issue stems from the direction being somewhat uneven and the performances themselves; the two leads are not doing anything wrong exactly, but the spark and chemistry that a story like this runs on just never fully ignited for me.

It is a pleasure to see Indian regional indie filmmaking making its way here, and I am happy this film exists. Even though there is still plenty of ground left to cover, it represents a step forward. (5.5/10)