'Sabar Bonda' movie review: A tender exploration of queer love

‘Sabar Bonda’ opens in the sterile corridors of a Mumbai hospital, where Anand (Bhushaan Manoj) mourns his father. Words are sparse as he and his mother (Jayshri Jagtap) take the body to their ancestral village for the 10-day ritual.

Grief is quickly overshadowed by protocol. Relatives and neighbours rush to recite the rules of mourning — no footwear, no milk, no temple visits. Anand is told off for wearing black. It’s grey, he protests, but a shirt change is inevitable. And he braces himself for what he believes will be the longest 10 days of his life — an ordeal of nosy relatives, pitying villagers and unsolicited matchmaking for the “quite old” 30‑year‑old.

But what we are not prepared for is the lyrical unfolding of a different queer love story, as Anand reunites with his childhood friend Balya (Suraaj Suman).

The two men slowly reconnect, finding comfort in their shared feelings with a smoke on the terrace. There is no urgency, no overt display of emotion. Just two men in love, stealing glances, one gently stroking the other’s curly mop upon discovering strands of grey.

The film draws parallels between forbidden love and the forbidden fruit, ‘sabar bonda’ (cactus pears), which Balya leaves with Anand’s family as a ‘surprise’ for him. 

There are no prying eyes or dramatic revelations as the lovers find moments of union under the shade of trees, amid cattle herding. Perhaps a quiet echo of ‘Brokeback Mountain’.

There are no passionate declarations in this rural gay love, where feelings are neatly bottled in a shampoo one buys for the other, or carried as music through their shared headphones.

During one of their rendezvous, Balya tells Anand that there are “others like us” in the village too, but they “just do it and leave”.

Rohan Kanawade’s portrayal of homosexuality lingers precisely because it is the opposite — unhurried and quietly enduring.