Published on March 25, 2026
Very few Indian films have been able to pack in considerable realistic socio-political details and cinematic styles as Ms. Payal Kapadia accomplished in *All We Imagine as Light*, comparable to similar contemporary cinematic works made elsewhere. Further, her modest film is bereft of high-cost special effects or an alluring star-cast value associated with commercial cinema. While it appears to be a simple and ordinary documentation of real life, it merely blankets the well-structured conceptualization that makes it a remarkable work, providing a fresh, wholesome treat for a perceptive viewer.
Few film viewers and critics distinguish the difference in value between films perceived as great works that were essentially adaptations of existing creative materials (novels, plays, short stories, etc.) or true historical incidents when compared to films built on an original screenplay conceived and written of the film. *All We Imagine as Light* belongs to the latter group. When Ms. Kapadia chose to make a film on the lower-middle class population in a city that is also home to some of the world’s richest billionaires, her choice to build her film around two nurses, among all possible professions she could have chosen, was most appropriate. Caregivers are often invisible wallflower cinematic characters, while doctors are more likely to hog the spotlight. Kapadia’s Florence Nightingales are strengthened mentally to deal with squeamish situations.
The main character in the film deals with a dementia patient who imagines conversations she had with her husband in the past. That very sequence prepares the viewer to link it to a somewhat similar sequence much later in the film. Kapadia’s choice of nurses as principal characters becomes strategic in the development of her film. A nurse becomes empathetic towards a worried cook she interacts with at her workplace and discovers her problems, fleshing out her screenplay as it unfolds. The decision to feature Malayalee nurses is commendable as these professionals from the state of Kerala have spread their wings far and wide, gaining appreciation and goodwill. Not many will note that Kapadia is not a Malayalee from Kerala making a film predominantly in the Malayalam language.
Kapadia’s film, which is considerably Mumbai-centric, differs from the two Kolkata-centric Indian trilogies made in the Seventies directors Satyajit Ray and Mrinal Sen. All those six films were adaptations of well-known written works in Bengali. The closest comparable work to Kapadia’s film would be Satyajit Ray’s *Mahanagar*, which won the director a Silver Bear award at the Berlin Film Festival in 1963, but that film too was an adaptation of a literary work . In comparison, Kapadia’s work is truly original.
The world of Mumbai and the ever-present camaraderie and goodwill of its immigrant Indian population with all the folks they rub shoulders with over time is infused into the screenplay. Indians are often inquisitive when they encounter someone they know who appears to be under stress or heading for trouble, bypassing their social pecking order, unlike their Occidental counterparts who insist on respecting the privacy of others.
Prabha (Kani Kasruti), a married senior nurse, craves her husband’s physical and emotional presence after he left for Germany seeking greener pastures soon after their hurried marriage arranged . Surprisingly, Prabha’s husband, who sporadically communicates with her after his departure, sends her a surprise gift—an electric rice cooker. Prabha’s longing for her husband is visually communicated by a brief sequence of her hugging her unused gift when she is alone in her room, which she shares with her younger colleague Anu. Anu (Divya Prabha), another Hindu nurse, in contrast, is unmarried and is having a surreptitious affair with a Muslim man, likely to be frowned upon families and friends in contemporary India with its increasing Hindutva intolerance and fear of “love jihad”—realistic trends rarely touched upon in frothy commercial Indian cinema.
Parvati (Chhaya Kadam), the hospital cook, is widowed and possibly childless, forced out of her two-decade-old dwelling developers because her dead husband either never had or never chose to share any document of ownership or tenancy with her. Kapadia’s social commentary on the rich getting richer at the expense of the poor is underscored when two principal women characters in the film pelt stones one night at a land developer’s hoarding to attract real estate buyers for a new housing project built on acquired land that once belonged to the poor. The hoarding ironically bears the words: “Class is a Privilege. Reserved for the Privileged.” Even the flooding of parts of Mumbai leading to the stoppage of local trains are cleverly woven into the script. Casual viewers are likely to miss out on the critical socio-political commentary that dots the film if they merely concentrate on the story.
Similarly, Kapadia developed Prabha and Anu to be different yet complementary, seemingly inverse of one another. Prabha is married, mature, true to her spouse, and rejecting the overtures of a qualified doctor also from Kerala, accepting her fate of being married and living alone. In contrast, Anu is young, adventurous, and rebellious enough to test the social and religious prejudices of the day. Parvati’s character seems to have a limited role of merely presenting the unpredictability of Mumbai for the less educated immigrants.
Much of Kapadia’s script reflects real India and aligns with the Indian Opposition parties’ views on the economic conditions of the poor in India. Even the man rescued from drowning states that he was toiling in a job where he could not differentiate between night and day. That comment from the rescued man leads to a discussion of the styles employed in the film.
Light is a key element not just in the title of the film *All We Imagine as Light* but equally important in