Category: 2025

The Mirrors In the Mahal

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

A friend of mine is doing a show, and he has asked me to perform to two songs. One, of course, is a Sit Down qawwali — but the second song is a dance number. Basically, it’s a courtesan’s number, it comes from one of my favourite movies. You guessed it. It is picturised on one of my favourite actresses, Madhubala. It is sung by one of my favourite singers, Lata Mageshkar. It is composed by one of my favourite composers — Naushad Sahab.

When I see it on screen, it reminds me of a revolution. It reminds me of how love conquers all. It is the song that led me into the revolution of being proud of who I am, being proud of the men that I fall in love with.

It’s basically been an anthem since — I can remember — in terms of identity, in terms of a reaction against hatred, a reaction against bullying, against prejudice and against my own dad at times. I used to dance to this when I was young, wearing a ghagra, and thinking that I was Madhubala, standing up for my lover and my own love.

As I grew up, I realised that it’s a feminist song. It is a song where a woman reclaims her own agency, and says that I don’t care what the world says to me, I have to live by my own beliefs and by the virtue of my love. As I grew, and I grew into my own homosexual identity, I realised that this is the song that empowers. It’s like a gay anthem, obviously. And so it’s like talking about the closet. It says:

प्यार किया तो डरना क्या?

It says:

पर्दा नहीं जब कोई खुदा से, तो बंदों से पर्दा करना क्या?

These words are epic. These lyrics are epic. These lyrics resound in my own head and in my own heart. It brought in its own life lesson on love. Or rather, how it ought to be. It taught me about the Self. How one should see one’s self and be true to it. 

So when this opportunity came to me, I jumped at it. Then, I thought that I could not do it — because there are so many hitches, actually. There are so many things that keep me second guessing. 

I used to be a Kathak dancer. But I stopped dancing because my left knee just gave out in 2010. And now, of course, I can’t dance on it. My orthopaedic surgeon has told me — when I went for a check-up — that I shouldn’t be dancing at all. I also have a rotator cuff injury in my right shoulder, since months which is excruciatingly painful.

I have mentioned all of this to my friend who is hosting the show — who’s doing the show. He gave me an option to drop out but he also believes in me. And I mean, there are those who love me — who said that I shouldn’t be doing it, because of the pain, because of what I may be going through, and because of what I may go through after the show.

There could be further knee damage. There could be further damage to my shoulder. But I seriously feel that I need to jump at this chance — in the sense of this particular song — because it’s something that I lived by, you see. It was something that brought meaning to my formative years. 

And I’ve seen the show on stage — Feroz Khan’s Mughal-e-Azam — that tours the world. And I’ve always loved the way the song has been choreographed. I’ve seen it twice now. And it’s epic — the way they do this song. It’s such a spectacle to love up to in entirety. 

Of course, I could never match up to the choreography. So I did the choreography myself. I’ve been practising for the last three weeks. And I told my friend that I may not do it — give me a few days. He’d given me about a fortnight to think about it and rehearse and see if I can choreograph it. And I have done so.

Initially, I thought that I would ask somebody else to dance the pure dance part before the number starts. But then I decided that that would be cheating. I had to do it myself. And I really have put in my time, my effort, my entire heart into this.

And I don’t know how it’s going to be — the show is in ten days — but I am preparing a costume, and I’m preparing the choreography. Even today, I rehearsed and I tweaked a little bit of the dance movements — to suit the fact that I can’t do 27 chakras in one go. But I managed to pull in about nine of them in the piece within the piece.

And my body doth protest. Right now, my neck is hurting, my knee is hurting, and my shoulder is hurting. So I’m in pain. I’m also very anxious — wondering whether I’ll be able to pull it off on stage, and wondering whether I’ll be able to, you know, live up to the beauty, the sheer magnificence of the song.

I’m going to try my best. And then, of course, let the chips fall as they may. But I just wanted to put this out there — as to why I want to do it, and what drives me to do it despite the problems that I’m facing. And I think it’s a chance for me to be beautiful, and proud, and magnificent — through the pain.

That’s why I’m doing it.

The Many Faces of Anxiety

Published on by Harpreet Chhachhia1 Comment

I didn’t set out to write about anxiety today. But like most days that begin gently and gather weight, yesterday left me with a churning restlessness I couldn’t shake off. And now here I am, trying to name it.

It began with animal abuse videos flooding my Instagram feed—violent, horrific glimpses into a world I wish didn’t exist. I know we’re all supposed to just scroll past or log off, but I can’t. That’s my weakness, maybe. I can’t look away when animals are in pain. I shared many of those videos to my story—perhaps to shake others awake, perhaps because I didn’t know what else to do.

In India right now, there’s been a surge of hostility towards stray dogs, after a tragic incident where an athlete and animal lover died of rabies—because he didn’t take a post-bite vaccination. That one lapse has turned into widespread panic. Dogs are being relocated, mistreated, even culled. And while his death was tragic, it was also preventable. But instead of addressing that, society’s instinct has been to punish the voiceless. It’s breaking my heart.

On top of that, I’ve been rehearsing for a dance performance—something very close to my heart. A friend invited me to perform two songs I’ve loved since childhood. One of them being physically gruelling as it involves about 6 minutes of continuous dancing – and I’ve poured myself into it: choreographed it, envisioned it, even arranged for the costume. But my body… it’s starting to feel like it’s turning on me. My right shoulder’s frozen, and after Saturday’s long rehearsal, my left knee’s in real pain again—echoing an old injury that once had me limping for months. It frightens me that my mind is dancing ahead, full of rhythm and joy, while my body is buckling, unsure it can carry me through.

I felt like Mary Carson from The Thorn Birds, bitterly remarking to Ralph that it’s God’s final cruelty—to give us hope and desire, while letting our bodies decay. I understand that sentiment too well today.

I’m going to see my physiotherapist again, hoping for answers or at least reassurance. But the truth is, I’m scared. I’m anxious that I won’t be able to perform, or worse—that I’ll damage my body even more trying to prove something. My family doesn’t want me to do this. But I do. I want it so badly because I know I can do it well—if only my body holds out.

Then, as if all that wasn’t enough, I ended up scrolling through old photos—of people who are no longer in my life. And the weight of those absences returned, quietly and cruelly. Some losses never announce themselves again—they just slip back into you, uninvited, and take up space.

The day was dark, grey, and rainy. And I felt that same heaviness. A familiar bleakness.

I’ve written so much about anxiety on this blog before, and yet, here I am again. Because anxiety is not a one-time visitor—it wears different masks, speaks in different voices, shows up at different doors.

But what I do want to say—what I need to remind myself of—is this: sometimes, anxiety walks hand in hand with longing. With courage. With hope. When you’re anxious about doing something, and yet you still want to do it—and you try anyway—that’s the human spirit. That’s what matters.

I just hope I don’t end up hurt. And I hope I don’t hurt anyone else while trying. So I’ll move forward—but with care. With awareness. With as much wisdom as I can muster.

And if you’re feeling like this too—heavy, restless, caught between desire and doubt—please know you’re not alone. Some days will be like this. And that’s okay.

…

I must add this note: I finished writing this post a few minutes ago and I went on Instagram to check up on messages. The first picture, I happened to see was a quote from a page I follow. I must share it here.

I take this as a sign from the universe. This quote speaks to the essential truth of transformation: that before renewal, there is pain. The imagery of “rising from the ashes” is that of the myth of the phoenix, a magnificent bird that dies in flames and is reborn from them. It so happens I have it tattooed on my left arm. Kalen Dion’s words remind us not to romanticise the rebirth without acknowledging the fire.

Suddenly I find the quote being a balm for the anxious, grieving, aching, and the hopeful me — and in fact, all of us who are in the middle of our fire. It says: Yes, you’re hurting now. But you won’t be ash forever. You’re becoming. Stay brave.

And I intend to.

Superman

Published on by Harpreet ChhachhiaLeave a comment

Light Restored: David Corenswet’s Superman Shines

I went to the first-night late showing of Superman with zero expectations—especially not expecting anything from star David Corenswet. But from the very opening, the film radiates light in a way Henry Cavill’s brooding take simply never did. Cavill’s Superman was relentless, vicious, bleak—more dark Batman than hopeful beacon. Corenswet, on the other hand, embodies everything good Superman should be: optimism, warmth, light.

From the start, the film introduces Superman at his most vulnerable—hurt, uncertain—and brings in Krypto, his loyal super‑dog, at just the right moment. Krypto’s entrance is delightful: “the canine sidekick steals the show, and his goofy interactions with Superman will resonate with anyone who loves dogs”. It was a moment that brought me—and, I suspect, dog lovers everywhere—to tears of joy.

Corenswet as Clark Kent / Superman reminds us of a young Christopher Reeve: dimpled, earnest, charming. He truly “soars as the Man of Steel”  , balancing vulnerability with heroism, sunlit goodness with real human emotion. As one review put it: “David Corenswet is just right for the dual role”.

Nicholas Hoult as Lex Luthor brings a modern tech‑tycoon je ne sais quoi—smart, menacing, magnetic. Many critics praised his turn, though some felt his performance didn’t match Gene Hackman’s classic menace.

The supporting cast includes: Rachel Brosnahan as Lois Lane: vibrant, sharp, independent. Critics say their chemistry is one of the best since Margot Kidder. Jimmy Olsen – Skyler Gisondo. Guy Gardner / Green Lantern – Nathan Fillion – is always a pleasure to watch. I couldn’t help remember him in Firefly. He’s back to his forté. Hawkgirl – Isabela Merced – brought in that element of darkness whereas Mister Terrific – Edi Gathegi – was indeed terrific. I liked the inclusion of Metamorpho (substance-shifter) – Anthony Carrigan – it brought in someone we hadn’t seen in the DC verse so far. These characters, dubbed the “Justice Gang” in a nod to the Justice League, provide depth and interactivity— and though some critics found the ensemble slightly overloaded – for me, it was just right. 

Director James Gunn steers Superman away from darkness. Thankfully! The film bursts with colour, lightheartedness, and earnest hope—exactly what the genre needed, described as a “colourful, breezy reinvention”. One critic noted the tone rejects “grim and gritty” in favour of “empathy… a radical tenderness over traditional machismo”.

The story skips a long origin arc and jumps into Clark’s life as a reporter and a hero. The film is tight, fast-paced, and brings back the classic John Williams–inspired trumpet theme—rejuvenating that sense of nostalgia I felt as a child growing up with Reeve.

Yes, there are a few hiccups: Some plot lines feel overcrowded—global politics, misinformation, and pocket-dimension mayhem. And let’s not forget the white man protecting the brown population from imperialists is an age old-trope that doesn’t sit well with me but even the CGI quality varies, especially in later action scenes.

Despite the missteps, Superman is an earnest, uplifting ride. It’s a heartfelt tribute to the Christopher Reeve era—sunlit, moral, full of hope. As one critic said: “I went into ‘Superman’ with low expectations… this reboot… is infused with heart, humour and a fresh optimism that the franchise desperately needed”.

So, if you’re longing for the Superman of light and goodness—not darkness and cynicism—this Superman is your film. It wants us to believe again—and it succeeds. This Superman is light reborn: hopeful, sincere, and undeniably fun. If you’re tired of the brooding, Nolan‑style heroes, let Corenswet’s Superman carry you back into the sun.