A staircase, Mammootty sitting, and his eyes give away subtly the mountainous tiredness of a daily fight of a father. His lips vibrate minutely, as he keeps staring into something. The scene closes, and without even giving out a loud wail, or a drop of tear, or even a properly visible expression, he dominates the scene to its completeness.
With no spoilers given, let me assert that the film will leave you hanging, incomplete and hoping for something more to come, maybe even a cliché ending we have seen and is ever seen to.
Kaala is not about creating one large icon like Hari Dada but celebrating the thousands of icons of Dharavi who face the brutality of capital, caste, and religious bigotry.
‘I am that which you refuse to see, that which you refuse to acknowledge. I am angry when I am told that I am unwanted, that I am being neglected’