In the light of Pride and Prejudice returning to theatres worldwide for celebrating 20 years, it is worth asking why this particular adaptation has secured near-religious devotion while so many…

“Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair.” P. B. Shelley’s Ozymandias opens with a declaration of power that, over time, becomes a quiet testament to its own erosion. The…

Theatre has long served as a mirror held up to society, but rarely has it afforded women the power to hold that mirror on their own terms. The 19th-century stage…

Theatre in India has never been isolated from the sacred. Long before proscenium stages or dramaturgical theory, performance existed in temples, village squares, and forests. It existed not as entertainment,…

In contemporary theatre, the rehearsal space has become more than just a site of preparation. Increasingly, it is being treated as a performance in itself, a space where the body…

French arthouse cinema has long been associated with a kind of visual and emotional longing. Its frames linger. Its characters pause mid-thought. Its dialogues drift between silence and philosophy. This…

This piece looks at how Studio Ghibli handles grief, war, and change without spelling anything out. There’s no spotlight on pain. It stays at the edge of the frame, in silence, in stillness, in the way nothing is explained but everything is felt. There are no villains. No neat resolutions. Just moments that hold both softness and sorrow. Ghibli doesn’t try to make you understand. It just shows you what it means to feel.

In the heart of a coal-stained village somewhere in post-industrial Scotland, a teenage girl lifts a tenor horn to her lips—not for applause, but for survival. This is Keli, a…