How do we decide where home is? Is home the place we go to find work, to find shelter, to find love? Or is it where we go when we give up on all three?
The illusions of home, the illusions of womanhood and the illusions of love are all questioned in “All We Imagine as Light.” The film takes place in Mumbai, the urban jungle which director Payal Kapadia sets as her basis for exploring how these topics intersect with life in the city. Mumbai is an urban landscape of possibilities. The opportunities the city provides are simply not replicated in any rural parts of India. Women there must decide whether they will remain in their rural villages, isolated from a greater portion of society, or seek something greater. But what this greatness provides often feels like an illusion.
This tender story of womanhood is on full display in “All We Imagine as Light,” which follows the lives of three nurses living in Mumbai. The technical elements of the film automatically set the tone for the story. Cinematographer Ranabir Das, who has worked with Kapadia before on “A Night of Knowing Nothing,” worked around the movie’s low budget by producing digital camera work that resembles that of 35mm film. In the opening sequence, Kapadia presents documentary footage of Mumbai that is voiced over by actual citizens in order to introduce the immigrant experience in the city. Das adds a grainy texture, highlighting the gritty urban setting that challenges the lives of its citizens and which will become the setting for the characters of this story.
The film primarily follows Prabha (Kani Kusruti, “Biriyaani”), a nurse who has found herself living with her younger counterpart, Anu (Divya Prabha, “Declaration”). Prabha and Anu are coworkers at a nearby hospital where Anu works as a receptionist. Prabha finds herself sorrowfully drifting through life, while Anu has high hopes for her future and works to craft her own destiny separate from her family’s traditional view of arranged marriage. In contrast, Prabha had an arranged marriage but has since been abandoned by her husband, who now works in Germany and no longer contacts her.
Throughout the film, Kapadia contrasts Prabha and Anu’s different perspectives on love. While Prabha quietly grieves the loss of the love she desired, Anu actively pursues a taboo relationship with a Muslim boy (Hridhu Haroon, “Mura”), which, we come to learn, is why she has chosen to move in with Prabha — to avoid her family’s disdain. Yet, despite her troubles with it herself, Prabha is still a proponent of arranged marriage — for reasons of practicality, though, not tradition. For Prabha, she must believe that her husband will return; otherwise, where would she go from here? Kapadia explores these two different dynamics, contrasting the progression of younger generations with the traditions that are ingrained in Indian culture.
Despite their differences, Anu and Prabha have an at once heartwarming and heartbreaking sister-like relationship. Eventually, this connection leads to conflict when Prabha’s anger is misdirected during a sporadic outburst during which she shames Anu and calls her a “slut.” She describes arranged marriage as a fate Anu cannot escape, much like the failing relationship Prabha herself is trapped within. This does not deter Anu, however, as she continues to see her boyfriend, Shiaz, in secret and searches for locations to progress their intimacy. Anu and Shiaz’s relationship is pure — as young love often is — and while Anu pursues an authentic, tangible romance, Prabha clings to scraps of her own marriage, grieving the love she never experienced. When Prabha receives an ominous rice cooker in the mail with no indication of a sender, she latches onto it, imagining that it is a gift from her husband. Holding onto the rice cooker, Prabha sits on the floor, hugging the machine, juxtaposing her desire for romance with her lonely urban reality.
Beyond the sisterly dynamic of “All We Imagine as Light,” Mumbai’s urban setting also emphasizes the events of the film. In particular, the concept of a home is questioned by the reality of life in Mumbai. The first words of the film, from the stream of Mumbai immigrant voice-overs, articulates: “I’ve lived here 25 years, but I feel afraid to call it home.” Kapadia crafts an anxious, overwhelming view of the city that clearly relates to the sentiment of displacement Prabha and Anu, as fellow immigrants from small villages, also feel.
Prabha and Anu’s idea of home complicates when their coworker, Parvaty (Chhaya Kadam, “Lost Ladies”), is evicted for the construction of an apartment complex. Parvaty takes this news without a fight, immediately deciding to move back to her home village. This leads all three women to question the concept of home that they have tried to create in Mumbai. The city has revealed the harsh truth that a house is just property that can easily be taken away by higher powers.
This leads to a greater question: If home is a place, can it exist in Mumbai? It is clear that neither Prabha nor Anu feels completely at home in Mumbai, yet it aids them in different ways. Where Anu seeks an escape from tradition in the city, Prabha seeks an escape from loss. But when this escape is no longer possible and instead puts the characters in worse positions than before, it forces them to question the realities of life in Mumbai. Because despite these less-than-ideal circumstances, is there any better option?
The tensions build between the characters when Prabha, Anu and Parvaty travel to Parvaty’s home village. Upon arrival, the three characters go on separate journeys. Parvaty goes to seek work, Anu goes to rendezvous with Shiaz and Prabha imagines a moment where her husband returns to her, providing closure for their relationship.
This fleeting moment causes us to question the reality of the film, as Prabha projects her husband onto a stranger. It is here that the title comes to life: The stranger, imagined as Prabha’s husband, reveals that Prabha was the light he imagined in the darkness. Kapadia depicts this moment without warning the audience that Prabha is going into a phase of imagination. Incorporating this moment into an otherwise harrowingly realistic story gives the film its emotional crux. It is a reminder that when we do not receive the answers we deserve, we must seek them for ourselves. There is power in moving forward, no matter how it must be accomplished.
Through this seamless transition, Kapadia signals to viewers that the reality of the situation does not matter. The audience is kept in the dark about Prabha’s husband, just as she is. This is a woman’s story, and the power lies not in Prabha’s husband’s reality but in her own. Her journey of grief and acceptance is powerful because the film takes on her perspective in this. Kapadia attributes Prabha’s strength to herself as she works to regain and separate herself from her role as a wife.
All the while, in the last act of the film, Anu and Shiaz go on their own separate journey in the village. Through them, Kapadia explores the role tradition plays in their modern romance and once again brings into question the concept of a home, as the characters are able to experience a moment of peace. Anu, Shiaz and Prabha will eventually return to Mumbai, resuming their chaotic lives. In the last scene of the film, we are left to linger in a moment of calm, yet it is not permanent, emphasizing the unclear nature of the characters’ futures.
There is no way to sum up the entirety of the emotional ground that “All We Imagine as Light” covers. Kapadia tells a tender tale of women who do not have all the answers but seek to understand the questions they are left with — questions of where identity intersects with culture and how love fits into the picture. Contrasted against the setting of Mumbai, which seems to dull all three, the film allows these themes to shine. Das crafts each shot beautifully, and a cool-toned color palette and rough texture brings the story to life. Every shot feels just as monumental as the film itself.
“You have to believe the illusion, or else you’ll go mad.” Kapadia acknowledges the reality of the urban-rural living gap in India and how simply leaving the city is unrealistic for women like Prabha, who want sufficient employment opportunities. In leaving Mumbai behind, however, she portrays an experience of escapism that allows Prabha to process emotions she did not have the space to address in the city. It is clear from the ending that there is no perfect resolution here, and we do not know where the women will go — or where they will find home — after the film ends. Home is a nuanced concept, but with “All We Imagine as Light” Kapadia captured a brief snippet of an ongoing journey toward a discovery of the self that may lead to those answers. What we imagine as light is what we hope will save us from the darkness and illuminate who we are. Sometimes, this comes in the form of love, and sometimes, it is something completely different.
Daily Arts Contributor Abigail Weinberg can be reached at weinab@umich.edu.
