In an era where Hindi cinema often equates volume with impact, Gandhi Talks makes a radical, almost defiant choice: it refuses to speak. Directed by Kishore Pandurang Belekar, the film unfolds almost entirely without dialogue, asking its audience to lean in rather than be spoon-fed.
At its core, Gandhi Talks is less a narrative-driven film and more a moral meditation. The plot, deliberately sparse, centres on characters navigating inner conflict and conscience in a world fraying at its ethical edges. The absence of spoken words strips cinema to its bare essentials: faces, frames, sound, and stillness.
The plot is such that Arvind Swami plays Mohan Boseman, a once-wealthy real estate developer whose life is in free fall. Personal loss precedes professional collapse—his wife and daughter die in a plane crash, his mother succumbs to a heart attack, and Boseman is left alone in a sprawling bungalow that soon becomes a symbol of everything he is about to lose. When his most ambitious and emotionally charged project, a towering high-rise called Mother’s Touch, goes up in flames, the destruction feels almost prophetic. The fire triggers a financial implosion: investors demand their money back, the company shuts down, luxury cars are seized, and Boseman is handed a 48-hour ultimatum before his bungalow is auctioned off.
On the other end of the spectrum is Vijay Sethupathi’s character, a man submerged in relentless misfortune. He lives in a cramped chawl with his ageing, ailing mother, struggling to survive one day at a time. Money is perpetually scarce; he cannot afford his daily tiffin, medical expenses pile up, and dignity is negotiated through odd jobs, including performing as a clown at children’s parties. Yet, despite the extremity of his poverty, Sethupathi’s character is morally anchored, guided by a quiet but firm belief in right and wrong.
The spark that connects these two lives comes from an incident that is both trivial and devastating. When Boseman accidentally drives over Sethupathi’s currency notes, sending them flying onto the road and tearing them in the process, it destroys the little money Sethupathi has. The torn note becomes a symbol of casual privilege colliding with fragile survival. For Sethupathi, this is not merely an accident; it is humiliation, loss, and injustice rolled into one moment, igniting a desire for revenge.
Realising Boseman’s stature and wealth, Sethupathi begins plotting a robbery, not just as retaliation, but as a way to reclaim control over his life. The plan is driven by desperation and hope in equal measure: to bring stability to his household, care for his mother, and build a future with Gayatri, played by Aditi Rao Hydari. What begins as a crime born of resentment slowly morphs into something far more complicated.
The second half of the film unfolds almost entirely within Boseman’s bungalow, where Sethupathi’s intrusion leads to an unexpected confrontation. As the two men are forced into proximity, certainties begin to fracture. Grief meets deprivation, power meets vulnerability, and revenge collides with empathy. What follows is less about the act of theft and more about a profound moral reckoning that alters both men in ways neither anticipates.
Director Kishore Pandurang Belekar handles this transition with remarkable control. The film moves through a spectrum of emotions, paying close attention to the minutiae of everyday life: the ironies, contradictions, and moral grey zones that define human existence. With dialogue largely absent, meaning is communicated through gesture, rhythm, and carefully composed silence.
Music becomes the film’s primary language. The score and sound design function almost like spoken words, carrying emotional cues, inner turmoil, and unarticulated truths. Beats rise and fall where dialogue might have existed, allowing the audience to feel rather than be told. In this world, music does not decorate the narrative; it is the narrative.
What Gandhi Talks ultimately lays bare are the situations its characters are trapped in and the fragile circumstances that bring them face to face. It is in this collision between wealth and want, loss and survival that the film locates its deepest complexities, suggesting that life’s most defining confrontations often emerge not from grand design, but from cruel, accidental intersections.
Vijay Sethupathi anchors the film with a performance that is almost entirely interior. His face becomes a landscape of suppressed rage, fatigue, and quiet resistance. Without dialogue to guide us, Sethupathi relies on micro-expressions and physical restraint, reminding us why he remains one of the most intuitive actors working today.
Arvind Swami, on the other hand, brings a contrasting energy that is controlled, authoritative, yet morally porous. His character embodies institutional power, and Swami plays him with chilling understatement.
The conflict between Sethupathi and Swami is never verbalised, yet it simmers in glances and spatial tension. Their scenes together crackle precisely because nothing is said.
Aditi Rao Hydari, often cast in ornamental roles, is given something far more introspective here. Her character exists in the margins of the narrative but carries emotional weight, particularly in moments of vulnerability where silence becomes both refuge and burden.
If Gandhi Talks has a spoken language, it is A. R. Rahman’s music. The score does not merely accompany the visuals; it interprets them. Rahman understands when to swell and when to recede, allowing silence to remain intact rather than overpowering it.
The background score functions as emotional punctuation, gently nudging the audience towards introspection. It is one of Rahman’s more restrained works, and arguably one of his most effective in recent years.
Visually, the film is composed with care. Belekar favours long takes, deliberate pacing, and uncluttered frames. However, the film is also a test of patience. There are stretches where the film risks becoming too inward-looking, mistaking minimalism for depth. Not every silence lands with equal force, and some sequences feel elongated without adding new emotional information.
That said, Gandhi Talks is a film which demands an audience willing to engage actively, to interpret rather than consume. The title itself feels ironic in the best way, invoking a figure synonymous with words, speeches, and moral clarity, only to present a world where words have failed and silence is all that remains.
Gandhi Talks leaves the viewer suspended in moral ambiguity, carrying the weight of interpretation beyond the theatre. This is not a film for everyone. Viewers expecting conventional storytelling may find it alienating. But for those willing to surrender to its rhythm, Gandhi Talks offers something increasingly rare in mainstream Indian cinema: a space to think and to listen to what isn’t being said. In choosing silence, Gandhi Talks makes its loudest statement.
Film: Gandhi Talks
Director: Kishor Pandurang Belekar
Cast: Vijay Sethupathi, Arvind Swamy, Siddharth Jadhav, Aditi Rao Hydari
Rating: 3.5/5