Sony is a kind man, a good Christian. He is always willing to lend his fellow villagers a helping hand, assist struggling children with their school lessons or organise volunteer activities. When an outcast family is struck by tragedy, he negotiates with the Church to rehabilitate them financially. Sony is not just the connective tissue, but the beating heart of this small Catholic village. Under his genial exterior, however, lurks something dark.

Kora and his brother Onan gather four men to go on a gaur hunt in order to make some quick money. Their journey progresses through their dreams, desires, fears, fantasies and struggles. Distanced from their families and loved ones, sharing stories help them remember and appreciate their inescapable pasts and make bonds. When the real and imagined nature turn out to be larger than their will and strength could handle, they learn the harsh realities of the endeavor they have taken up.

A Malayalam-speaking filmmaker called Chris sets out for Kolkata to shoot a documentary in reaction to Louis Malle’s 1969 Calcutta. Despite being Indian, he’s as much a stranger to the city as Malle was. Shortly after starting to shoot the film, Covid-19 hits the world, forcing him into quarantine. Instead of facing Kolkata, Chris is now faced with the relationship with his wife who accompanied him, with both not expecting to see that much of each other. Instead of looking outwards, he’s now looking inwards. For Don Palathara, Malle’s masterpiece offers a medium through which he can ask not only some fundamental questions about our relationship with reality, but also about the relationship between politics and cinema. If the Indian government back then considered Calcutta insulting, what will the current regime say to essentially the same images, but made by an Indian?