All We Imagine as Light

Payal Kapadia’s second feature, All We Imagine as Light, opens with a nocturnal journey through bustling roadside shops, seen from a moving vehicle. The scene is accompanied by disembodied voiceovers answering an implicit question – perhaps, «Why did you come to the city?». While the answers vary, a common narrative emerges: a rural exodus driven by economic necessity. However, this journey is less about finding a home than about losing one. The ride itself, an anonymous, unending motion through the city, mirrors this dislocation, drawing us into a world where movement eclipses stability, and voices float untethered from the spaces they inhabit.

At the heart of the narrative are Prabha and Anu, two Malayali nurses sharing a flat and navigating the complexities of their relationships. Prabha, the elder, is trapped in a socially recognised but estranged marriage. Anu, in contrast, is emotionally and physically involved with Shiaz, a Muslim man; their relationship remains unacknowledged by a society fractured along religious lines, leaving them in a precarious, liminal space.

The theme of marginalisation extends beyond the main characters to three secondary figures: Shiaz, a member of the Muslim minority; Dr. Manoj, a Malayali doctor diminished by his inability to speak Hindi; and Parvati, a Marathi cook facing eviction, all underscoring the precariousness of urban life for the working class. Through these characters, the film explores how identity, language, and societal roles shift in response to context. Language is a significant motif, with characters switching between Hindi – used as a bridge for inter-regional communication – and their native tongues, highlighting the cultural and personal negotiations that define their lives.

Kapadia’s storytelling thrives on contrasts, both thematic and visual. Framed within a “DocuDream” aesthetic, the film softens harsh edges, avoiding the exploitative tropes of “misery porn” often associated with depictions of the subcontinent. Rather than dramatizing struggles through violence or stereotypes, Kapadia leans into contrast, portraying the collective stories with quiet dignity.

The film unfolds across three distinct temporal settings: the perpetual night of the city, the unchanging daylight of the village, and the space-detached-from-time of a hospital. These visual contrasts underscore the film’s meditation on movement versus stasis, displacement versus belonging. In the city, wide-angle shots of towering buildings, illuminated windows, and congested traffic evoke an overwhelming sense of relentless motion. By contrast, the village’s open seascapes and expansive landscapes evoke a stillness that feels almost romanticised.

This dichotomy between night and day extends metaphorically to nightmares and daydreams, reflecting the mind’s attempt to make sense of, resolve, or even compound stress. Nightmares embody unresolved anxieties, such as Anu and Shiaz’s thwarted attempts to find privacy in the city – a cycle of effort without resolution. Daydreams, on the other hand, offer fleeting moments of solace: moments of intimacy for Anu and Shiaz, a respite from eviction for Parvati, and a glimmer of closure for Prabha. The village, despite its own struggles, emerges as a site of longing, standing in stark contrast to the alienation of urban life. The hospital scenes in turn feel the most grounded, the “awake” moments between nightmare and daydream. These juxtapositions – hope and hardship, dreams and reality – underscore the recurring and often unresolved nature of the characters’ lives.

Another striking contrast is in Kapadia’s representation of interior and exterior spaces. The film often focuses on fragmented interior spaces, portrayed through piles of objects – boxes in kitchens, bags of belongings, rooms filled with clutter... In one pivotal moment, Parvati and Prabha search through bags for papers needed for Parvati’s apartment, navigating a crowded and undefined living space. The lack of clear shots of entire interiors creates an atmosphere of disarray and impermanence. Anu and Prabha help Parvati move back to her coastal village, and Anu comments on this as she goes through Parvati’s suitcase, remarking how Parvati made them carry all her “junk” back to the village. This fragmented portrayal of living spaces – piles of belongings that persist regardless of location – reinforces the theme of displacement and the impossibility of finding a true “home”, tying the film’s visual language to its emotional core.

In the end, All We Imagine as Light reveals that belonging is elusive – whether in the city, the village, or the hospital. The characters are caught in a constant negotiation with their identities, circumstances, and sense of place. The film offers neither neat answers nor resolutions but instead invites us into a world where movement, both physical and emotional, never quite leads to stability. For those living pay check to pay check, ease can sometimes only be found in nourished minds or in moments of respite – such as in sitting by the sea, where dislocation momentarily gives way to stillness.