Oct 17, 2026; 11.50 pm; Lahore, Pakistan.

This is from where I speak today. In tears. This wasn’t a movie — it was my heart.

I was born in 1986, long after the Partition of India, yet I have never quite been able to celebrate it, having read in my early childhood about the massacre that erupted in its wake. Roots have an indefatigable pull beyond the scope of our wisdom. World history may be full of darkness — the bloodshed of South Asia is where my heart chords vibrate the loudest. The mirror shards lie within me, like the Indian subcontinent lies demarcated by bloodshed till today; 1947 remains alive.

Back to the pain of the movement — people were widely displaced in the mass migration, expelled from their homes and torn from their families even; not everyone moved by choice. Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs resorted to sexual assaults against women of other communities as a means of revenge. How low can men stoop, Alas! Mutilated corpses were the bedrock of 14th and 15th August. Seeing the fictional visual of it in this movie seems to have left footprints on my heart; even the next day, I am feeling fragile and drowsy. It makes sense though: I am a revolutionary. I am born to feel the fire.

Ishar Singh Grewal is experiencing trauma because he is one of the Sikh victims of the aforesaid era. I am relieved to see this theme being captured here. This is what violence does — leave trauma that doesn’t end till the end of one’s life. Every war has left its victims psychologically scarred; what the eyes have seen, the gut cannot swallow. Yet humans aren’t reflecting enough; we remain divided on whether to shun war.

Ishar Singh hasn’t forgotten his first love; he promised her he wouldn’t leave, yet he was forced to. He came back for her six years later — only to find another man had married her as she was left vulnerable by the loss of her family. Ishar says, “Yeh duniya khatam ho gayi hai. Mud ke nahi dekhna.” (This world has finished. Don’t look back). Of course, when a true lover loses his love, not due to any betrayal from either side, but due to circumstances beyond one’s control, the very lifeblood of that person is extinguished. Ishar can’t live up to his own word on the second part though. He is looking back all the time, from the deep crevices of his tormented soul. No actor other than Mr Naseeruddin Shah could have done justice to Ishar’s character. Sharvari, Vedang and Diljit performed well as well.

There is a commercial value in showing inter-communal love stories like these, yet I truly believe there were genuine heartbreaks as well that transpired during the Partition. There must have been lovers who promised to be together but literally the land on which they stood got cut up and they became islands to each other.

Main Vapas Aaunga (I Will Return) is an apt title, paying tribute to all those love stories that deserved the chance to reach their intended destination, and to all those who were disconnected from their roots and loved ones. Thank you, Mr Imtiaz Ali — your craft is golden.

As someone who intends to launch myself into love activism for this region, I make this promise to my people: ‘Hum Sab Vapas Aayeinge’ (We all will return). Your homeland will always be yours. InshaaAllah. Stay tuned.

One thing that struck me as unusual was the Sikh mother slitting the throats of the girls in her family when the rape brigade knocked on their door. Initially, I thought it was the filmmaker’s invention. But a little internet search revealed that during the Partition of India, large numbers of women in fact died by suicide or were killed by their families to prevent what they feared might be a graver fate: capture and sexual violence.

To the women who lived through the Partition, rest in peace; you did not deserve the absence of peace life offered you.

One of the key motivators for my planned activism is to bring true honour to your suffering — our butchered, unsung heroes.

Get a glimpse of this masterpiece with AR Rahman magic Vo Nahi.