Kanwal Sethi’s Once Again feeds off cliffhanger silences and enigmatic gazes. Two lost, hurting souls – a widowed restaurateur and an ageing actor – bump into each other like two runaway hearts. The result is a happy accident. What unfolds is a coming together of two disparate yet similar stories of separation and despair woven by two broken middle-aged people like patchwork on the fabric of survival.Tara Shetty (Shefali Shah) runs a small restaurant in Mumbai, lives with her grown-up empathetic, single daughter and not-so empathetic, about-to-get-hitched son. Tara’s husband died some 20 years ago when the children were as young as two years old.Amar Kumar (Neeraj Kabi) is an actor who is going through a divorce and has lost custody of his daughter. Now, he is shooting for a movie where he plays a ghost who dances, or perhaps, a dancer-ghost who eventually falls in love with a human.Once upon a time, Tara was a dancer too, but her ankle-bells are now locked away, much like her dreams she buried two decades ago when her husband passed away. In a bid to put a lid on her aspirations, she opened another jar – the jar of spices and culinary ingredients. She is passionate about cooking. The way her nimble fingers manoeuvre when crushing spices and herbs, her wrist swirls while stirring dry chillies in hot oil; the alacrity with which she picks, cuts, cleans, seasons fish with chutneys – the masalas for which she grinds using the traditional mortar and pestle – make for a sensual delight.Also read: Jordan Peele’s ‘Us’: Black Horror Movies and the American NightmareShe controls the kitchen much like she keeps her not-so unruly locks in place tied in a loose bun aided by a mildly sharpened pencil that comes in handy when she’s scribbling quick grocery notes. She is a confident single mother who seldom hesitates calling a spade a spade. When the son insists on letting their bank keep the title deeds just so their request for a loan is sanctioned, she refuses point blank. While he keeps rubbing it in that an absentee father doubles up struggles for a family, Tara remains stoic, resilient and sharp in her criticism of a patriarchal society. She doesn’t need words to express her disapproval, her gaze is enough.There’s a welcoming detour, away from the monotony of life, when Tara and Amar begin talking to each other. Every day, they wait for the night when the clock strikes 10. Most times, Tara talks on her landline in the kitchen after shutting shop. With a cup of coffee in hand, sitting in her chair, sometimes even carelessly cocooned on the floor, Tara befriends a voice – a voice which wears a celeb face. Tara cooks for Amar, let’s say, her restaurant supplies food to Mr Kumar who shares his daily menu with Tara. Amar, after a hard day’s work comes back home to a delectable spread at his palatial mansion, across the Sea Link Bridge. They have been interacting with each other for a year now. Amar, one night, says, “Let’s meet.” Tara refuses. Amar ends up with flowers outside her restaurant. The first meeting lasts fleeting seconds. Second meeting on, time just flies.The Sea Link bridges the distance between two strangers who find solace in each other’s presence at waking hours of the night. When the lights of the studio are switched off, the kitchen fires breathe their last, half-asleep beggars are tossing and turning on the pavement, lit-up hoardings and posters kissing the sky flicker in the midnight breeze – two adults, weighed down by life’s demands turn into mischievous children who have run away from home without telling their parents.Away from the glitzy way of Bombay, they have found a quiet nook for themselves. Relishing a hearty meal at a roadside restaurant, giggling at the marvels of shadow puppetry, sipping chai while gazing at the sea and humming favourite lines of a song – are the little midnight adventures these wayward adults indulge in.Of course, there is flirtation and there is attraction but that’s not the mainstay of Once Again. The discovery of that someone who doesn’t judge in a prejudiced universe is a greater gift for these two people who didn’t set out to find romance anyway. Tara tells her daughter at one point – this is when the paparazzi has presented its own narrative about ‘An old actor and his new partner’ – “Talking to him makes me happy.”Aspersions are cast on the woman (typical and expected), the ‘old actor’ is hardly questioned because he is a celeb, and well, a man. The scoop is in harassing a woman with questions that will make her take a trip down guilt lane. The son misunderstands her. The daughter doesn’t, thankfully so.Tara likes being alone with Amar but society frowns upon this form of solitude. Their conversations are escape routes treading on which they seem to defy the routine, the mundane, the sanctioned, the norm and the accepted. And that is, well, unacceptable.Also read: The Matrix 20 Years On: How a Sci-Fi Film Tackled Big Philosophical QuestionsThe refuge that these two individuals had sought in each other’s voices is snatched away the day they give-in to the temptation of meeting each other. Tara, too, the woman with a straight spine, breaks down when she feels she misunderstood the man whose company she so very liked. An unexpected visit to his house spoils it all. Amar introduces her as his cook, “mere liye khana banati hai” to his colleagues. In a moment, the paradisiacal world of sweet talks, long drives, chai and songs at the seashore while the winds played with their breaths comes crashing down.The Cinderella hour is over.When the private meets the public, the public destroys the sanctity, commitment, truth, more an illusion, happy accident of the private. And Tara admits, “Everything was so much better over the phone.”The meeting ruins the dream. The meeting makes them wake up from the dream.Amar realises what he has done but it’s too late for an apology. The dancing ghost becomes a metaphor of his own life. He is nothing more than a ghost who is caged by his own existence and the compulsions that drive it.There is a poignant scene in the film when Amar stops his car at a distance from a group of druggies who are dancing around a fire, oblivious to the cares of the world. Amar throws caution to the wind, joins them and dances like a possessed dervish. The dance that he couldn’t master in front of the camera – for it seemed too robotic – consumes him when no one is looking.But, Once Again stays true to the friendship, love and companionship shared by its protagonists even when all seems lost and beyond repair.Like Tara’s flowing sarees, (in)disciplined strands of hair, tilted bindi on her forehead, moist kohled eyes, shy smile, peacock-like gait, and careless gazes, Once Again is a medley of unspoken words, hushed gasps, uncontrolled tears in sleep, popping dry chillies in hot oil and the usual humdrum of a city going by.And it ends with Tara and Amar meeting at sea, literally. The anchor is visible. Tara takes out her ankle bells: Is it the beginning of another dream? Will they finally be able to own the Cinderella hour without any encroachment?Ipshita Mitra is a senior editor with one of India’s leading publishing houses.
