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Nepal, a relatively youthful country with the median age of 24.6 years (Worldometers), is ranked 135 out of 190 economies for the World Bank's ‘Starting a Business’ index that tracks small and medium enterprises all over the world. In other words, Nepal is not exactly a business-friendly country.

But still, in the past few years, young entrepreneurs have been coming up with innovative business ideas. Among the hundreds of startups that have originated in the country in recent times some have even gotten global recognition and funding. Even with the domination of a few large industries in Nepal, small and medium enterprises have emerged, creating jobs, contributing to the economy, and providing consumers with a variety of products at fair prices.

According to the central bank's 2019 report titled ‘SME Financing in Nepal’, as of fiscal 2018/19, a total of 275,433 small and medium enterprises (SMEs) were registered in Nepal. The Industrial Enterprise Act 2016 defines small enterprises as businesses having up to Rs 100 million in fixed capital, and medium enterprises as businesses as having fixed capital between Rs 100 million and Rs 250 million. The SMEs contribute an estimated 22 percent to the GDP, while employing 1.7 million people. 

Even with little government support, entrepreneurship was thriving in the unsteady Nepali economy. But then the Covid-19 outbreak hit and the lockdown took hold starting March 2020, destroying the hopes and dreams of entrepreneurs and their businesses. Mostly based in Kathmandu, Nepal’s young entrepreneurs are reeling under the pressure of exorbitant rents, high taxes, and other liabilities, even as their businesses have struggled with Covid-19 over the past six months.

Rohit Tiwari, CEO/Co-founder of the pioneer homemade food delivery service, Foodmario, has always had issues with government apathy of startups. Although Tiwari’s Foodmario can now be considered a successful business, the hazards of entrepreneurship have not spared him. Tiwari has also taken it upon himself to actively promote other new ventures, especially the ones taking big risks. Even access to global funding is hard, he complains, as the minimum amount for Foreign Direct Investment (FDI) is set at a rigid Rs 50 million.

                                                                                                                                                    Rohit Tiwari

Confused government, confounded businesses

“The startup environment in Nepal was already poor when the pandemic hit. Business shrunk by more than 80 percent for most of us during the four months of the lockdown,” says Tiwari who was this year on the prestigious list of ‘Forbes 30 Under 30 Asia’. “At Foodmario, we had to temporarily close down entire operation for three weeks and instead deliver vegetables and essentials to keep the business going,” he explains.

During the lockdown Tiwari had expected some government help for small and medium enterprises. No such help has materialized. “The government seems confused,” he says. The only ray of hope, he adds, is that consumers learned the value of online business during the lockdown.

Bilal Ahmed Shah, CEO and Founder of Latido Leathers, says he had expected the lockdown to last a while and planned accordingly. To ensure the safety of his staff and factory workers, Shah sent them back to their ancestral homes as Latido’s showroom and factory closed. Many of them are yet to come back.  

                                                                                                                                          Bilal Ahmed Shah

“Even as our expenses have been rising, we have not earned much in the past few months. There is no way to tell if and when we will be fully operational again,” says Shah, unaware at the time of another round of imminent lockdown in Kathmandu.

On the same website that ranks Nepal so low on ‘Starting a Business’, the country is ranked 79^th in ‘Protecting Minority Investors’ and 94^th in ‘Ease of Doing Business,’ which are again not very inspiring. Perhaps this is why their friends and families discourage young entrepreneurs from taking what are indeed considerable risks.

Neha Singh, originally from Birgunj, is one such aspiring entrepreneur who has fought all kinds of odds to try and establish a business in Kathmandu. Living by herself at the age of 22, Singh runs ‘Chhotusart,’ an online store for customized products that is yet to be legally registered. “I was just about to register when the lockdown started and all my business plans fell apart,” Singh says. Singh’s online store was the outcome of her creativity and a bit of pocket-money, but has grown into a sizable business, which now requires legal registration. “I managed to make enough to expand my business and also to have some savings, but now everything I saved is being spent on my living expenses, since I have had no income lately,” Singh says.

Panic and anxiety

Singh’s quest for financial independence through a steady business that would cover her living costs, as well as studies, is now in jeopardy. “Entrepreneurship is already difficult for women in Nepali society. Now this pandemic and the ensuing problems will push us back even further,” Singh says.

With her savings almost gone and no sign of the pandemic coming under control, Singh is anxious about the future of her business and fears that she might have to start from the scratch after the pandemic. Her biggest fear at the time of our interview was another lockdown. “Don't know what I will do if I have to stop my business again,” she had said.

Her fear, unfortunately, came true. This second lockdown, which could possibly be further extended, might be the final nail in the coffin for many of the SMEs in Nepal. Without protection from the government, which instead imposes heavy taxes and regulations, entrepreneurs and SMEs will either have to fend for themselves to survive the pandemic or lock their doors forever.

Latido's Shah is already in a panic mode after the announcement of the second lockdown. The previous lockdown had put a big dent on his production and sales. "We will still have to pay rent for our showroom and factory. An even bigger problem is that we will now be unable to prepare for the peak winter season," Shah says.

Rohit Tiwari sums up the hardships of a handful of businesses that were operational during the previous lockdown and subsequent restrictions. Discussing the disruptions to his food delivery business, he writes on his Facebook page: "Only if I could request Government of Nepal to allow smooth Delivery of essentials, Bakery, Dairy products if nothing more! Half of the time we have to call traffic police, ask someone for source Force, just to do simple business. Sad!"

No matter how hard you try to avoid reviews and spoilers, they always creep in on social media and influence an avid movie lover’s point-of-view. These quick social media reviews distract the clean state of someone who wants to approach a movie unbiased.

This happened to me most recently with the new Nawazuddin Siddiqui-starrer “Raat Akeli Hai.” Released on July 31 on Netflix, Raat Akeli Hai was immediately compared to last year’s Hollywood thriller “Knives Out”, with many film buffs posting non-stop on social media about their similarities. This made me want to avoid the ‘Hindi version’ but again, I have a soft spot for Siddiqui and missing out on his movie just because some people claimed it was a rip-off would be unjust.

Thank god! I again learned not to take people’s claims online too seriously. For any sane viewer who understands both the languages, the only similarity between Raat Akeli Hai and Knives Out is that they are both modern whodunits. Also, the premises are similar, where an old man gets murdered in an old house and family members are suspects. But the same can be said of many other murder mysteries starring superstar detectives Sherlock Holmes and Hercule Poirot.

In Raat Akeli Hai, a rich old man Raghubeer Singh (Khalid Tyabji) is found murdered with his own gun on the night of his wedding inside his haveli. Inspector Jatil Yadav (Siddiqui) is assigned to investigate the murder, where everyone in the family, including Raghubeer’s newly wed wife, Radha (Radhika Apte), is a suspect.

Now it’s up to inspector Yadav to bring the killer to justice. But his work in made hard by toxic relations between the family members, their secretive nature, their resistance to the investigation, as well as a past relationship the detective had with one of the family members. There is also outside interference in the investigation from powerful people and at the same time, more people get murdered. Also, a double robbery plus homicide from five years ago resurfaces as a connecting dot to Raghubeer’s murder, adding even more complexity.

Complications, or conflicts, are what drive the movie from the beginning. The dark, gritty, suspense film creates crisis after crisis for the detective, culminating in one fine example of the ending of a film noir. Inspector Yadav struggles to find the killer, fighting off his family issues at the same time, as well as facing adversities from his seniors and colleagues. Raghubeer, who always appears in the past, shows how a person with power and money can keep corrupting the system, even after his death.

Director Honey Trehan creates an exemplary show-reel for a murder mystery in this film written by Smita Singh. Raat Akeli Hai maintains a realistic approach to filmmaking, most likely in honor of its talented cast. And despite the 2hrs 29min length, which is considered rather long for a feature film these days, the screenplay is engaging enough to capture the audience attention throughout. There is a lag at times though, where some scenes feel stretched and redundant, but given the rest of execution, they seem more like a stylistic touch than a weakness.

Although it is a murder mystery with half a dozen suspects, Siddiqui as the investigating officer steals the limelight. This is also where Raat Akeli Hai differs from Knives Out, the latter being an ensemble while the former mostly banks on one popular actor. With his ability to take on any role and convince the audience it was written just for him, Siddiqui again proves his worth. The weak character and lack of screen time for the unofficial face of Netflix India, Radhika Apte, is a bummer though.

Who should watch it?

Whether you’re a Nawazuddin Siddiqui fan or not, Raat Akeli Hai is a must-watch if you’re into movies that play with you mind and leave you thinking frantically for a couple of hours. This is the kind of movie you can watch now, and would not mind re-watching a year later.

Raat Akeli Hai

Rating: 4 stars

Genre: Crime/Drama

Actors: Nawazuddin Siddiqui, Radhika Apte

Director: Honey Trehan

Run time: 2hrs 29min

After last week’s Turkish delight “Mama’s Boy”, I wanted to explore more Turkish comedies, which this week led me to this absurdly named movie “Bir Baba Hindu”. Although it is listed under IMDB’s “Action, adventure, comedy” section, the 2016 release is a goofy slapstick that makes fun of everything Indian—including Bollywood, Hindu religion and culture, as well as India’s liberator Mahatma Gandhi. All in good humor and only borderline offensive tone.

So in Bir Baba Hindu, Fadil (Sermiyan Midyat)—a disillusioned gangster who overestimates his power and labels himself ‘Godfadil’—falls in love with his yoga teacher Gundhi (Nicole Faria). He is yet to confess his love when a turban-wearing Punjabi gang kidnaps her.

Fadil finds Gundhi has been taken to Mumbai and travels there with his trusted henchman Hulusi (Burak Satibol) in her search. There, to his shock, he discovers that Gundhi is the daughter of the biggest gangster in Mumbai, Jagadamba (Füsun Demirel), who has pledged her in marriage to someone else, and who also hates Fadil’s Turkish mafia family.

I haven’t watched many Turkish movies to be able to make a broad generalization, but BBH’s plot resembles that of a typical Indian film—especially one from down South. After a conflict is introduced, the movie revolves around Fadil trying to solve it and get back Gundhi, while there’s plenty of resistance from all sides.

Now as clichéd as the storyline sounds, the execution makes BBH interesting, to say the least. I mean, how many times have we seen Turkish actors dance to Bollywoodish music? Yes, there are plenty of song and dance sequences in BBH, as well as many other stereotypical Bollywood elements, all done to look like a spoof. The humor quotient in BBH mainly comes from absurdity, stereotyping and over-generalization, and given that Indian cinema is no less guilty of stereotyping Arabs, this Turkish film serves its own form of justice.

With comedy as its forte, BBH first takes a dig at India’s love for cows. While cows are worshipped in most parts of the country, they’re also left astray to starve and get hit by vehicles on busy roads. BBH takes more than just a light stab at this hypocrisy and has a whole comedy number dedicated to cows.

Then, we find out Gundhi is not a Turkish name but a misnomer for Gandhi. Her family wanted to name her after the Indian independence leader Mahatma Gandhi but there’s a spelling error while registering her birth and she ends up being called Gundhi forever.

Again, cow and Gandhi are not the only things about India that BBH mock. It attacks India’s people, customs, and traditions, but again, there is nothing truly offensive, and nothing that has not already been done by Hollywood and Bollywood movies. Despite heavy ridiculing and derision, the film is easy on the eyes.

As for the filmmaking, BBH does fall short in comparison to Mama’s Boy on various fronts. Sermiyan Midyat also takes credit for writing and directing the film, besides playing the lead role, and as such has too many things to do. There’s a feeling of hastiness in the script that doesn’t allow the audience to sit back and enjoy its humorous skits. The screenplay has many unwanted branches stemming from an already weak trunk and there are numerous jerks and jumps that don’t let the audience settle.

On the acting front, nothing stands out. Everyone’s doing their bit to make the film coherent, but the script and direction definitely hamper their efforts. Again, not having enough Turkish movie experience stops me from commenting on BBH’s acting in comparison to industry standards, but as a global audience, I think its tad below average on this one.

Who should watch it?

Despite all its shortcomings, BBH doesn’t deserve the 2.8/10 rating it has on IMDB. Maybe that has to do with a number of Indians taking offense at its theme. But for us neutrals BBH is definitely an enjoyable, nonsensical parody movie that is enjoyable while it lasts.

Rating: 2.5 stars

Genre: Comedy

Actors: Sermiyan Midyat, Burak Satibol, Nicole Faria

Director: Sermiyan Midyat

Run time: 1h 52mins

As the band gathers for rehearsal in Old Baneshwor after a gap of almost five months, there is little enthusiasm among its members. The members of The Midnight Riders (TMR)—who have never missed a show on Nepali New Year’s Eve for the past 10 years, since the band was formed—haven’t played a gig since February 14, missing all important occasions in between and not earning a dime. 

The rehearsal is meant to give continuity to their momentum and not lose their touch as a band playing together, but with no sign of the Covid-19 disappearing soon, or gigs and concerts resuming in Nepal, the effort is half-hearted. Pessimism pervades the group, more than it did when some of its members had quit or been laid off. Years of investment in music—both financial and emotional—seem like a waste for now. This is true not only for TMR, but for most of the musicians who survived by playing live music. 

Shree 3, a relatively new band that had been touring all over Nepal before the pandemic, also practices at the same rehearsal space. Having spent months at home without playing with one another, the band just wants to create some fresh music to forget their woes. In fact, they are writing enough material to cut out an EP soon. 

“We, as a band, have been idle for too long. So we decided we’ll start rehearsing at least three times a week and compose some new songs,” says Sarad Shrestha, the vocalist/guitarist of Shree 3. “There’s been so much going on in the past few months that we lost our concentration. Now it’s time we get back to doing what we are supposed to.” But despite his shot at positivity, the unanswered question of when they will finally be able to perform on stage casts a long shadow. 

More than money

For many musicians, performing live is not only about the money. Although stage performances are the major income source for most, there is also a sense of personal satisfaction, feeling of accomplishment and validation of one’s own music when performing live. Devoid of the stage, the toll on the musician’s financial and mental health is enormous. And while musicians and artists in developed countries have already started announcing tour dates for 2021, with Nepal’s failing response to contain the Covid-19 pandemic, the musicians here are more morose. 

Guitarist Ameet Rocker (stage name), a regular performer in the pubs and bars of Lakeside, Pokhara, is currently unemployed and bitter about his situation. “Even earlier, we didn’t earn much but we still made enough to survive,” he says. “I was also planning to move to Kathmandu to play music, but now everything is ruined.” Ameet played with his band The Wave five days a week, making just enough to continue playing music as his sole profession. Now, with the pandemic still spreading, he sees no hope of re-employment but also has nothing else to do or fall back on. 

“Most of my band members are also unemployed right now,” says Deepak Gurung, bass player for Pariwartan, one of the most popular bands that initially emerged from the pub scene in Thamel and went national with their music. Deepak is also a school teacher, allowing him to still make an income, while his band members are totally dependent on playing music for their livelihood. “Each month, we used to make around 55,000-60,000 rupees per person, playing up to six days a week,” he says. “Now we’re all unemployed and not sure if we will ever get back to being as busy playing music.” But on a positive side, the band finally managed to get time to make their own music during the lockdown. Pariwartan has released a couple of singles already and is planning an album soon. 

Not a priority

Also starting her career from the Thamel scene and then going on to perform in China and India is singer Preety Manandhar. Preety was performing as a house musician at a popular 5-star hotel in New Delhi, India, when the pandemic hit the ensuing lockdown made her return home. “I was there with my band and we were doing pretty well,” she says. “Now we’re all out of work and dependent on our families for survival.” Like most musicians, Preety is also working on original music while she waits for the pandemic to be over so that she can get back on stage with her band. 

For Nepali musicians, playing live music at different venues in Kathmandu and all over Nepal, was also a show of financial independence. Young musicians had left their families and homes to create a space for themselves in the world with music as their tool. But the Covid-19 pandemic has affected almost all trades and industries; music seems to have been hit hard and will probably be the last to recover. During hard times, arts and entertainment fall to the very bottom of priorities, as is the consensus among Nepali musicians. 

Shiva Mukhiyaa, the frontman of the Axe Band, also sees bleak days ahead. Shiva had already been fighting over copyright issues with music companies when the lockdown began and all of the Axe Band’s shows were cancelled. Now he is not sure when the next show will happen and is in no mood to talk about it. “We complete 28 years this August 13, and this will be the first time ever that we have not played a show in five months,” he says. “We are trying to create some new music but honestly, it has been really difficult. It’s like our minds have shut down too.”

These are only a few examples of Nepali musicians we talk to on an everyday basis. Their feelings and emotions now can be generalized. Everyone misses the stage as much as they miss the income generated by a profession that is as demanding as any other, and perhaps more emotionally draining than most. As musicians wait with no hope of a respite, their mental health might suffer too.

It took me a whole of six months watching Netflix almost every day to get to my first-ever Turkish movie. And when I was done watching “Mama’s Boy”, I was glad I did, although not so glad that I discovered the realm of light-hearted Arab comedy so late. There’s evidently a lot more to watch where this comes from.

Originally titled “Qalb Ummuh”, ‘Mama’s Boy’ is a 2018 slapstick comedy that is also somewhat of a spoof of gangster movies. There’s fun, drama and melodrama for the whole family, all packed into this 1h 42mins film that is thoroughly enjoyable—just for entertainment purposes. I mean there’s no takeaway or life lessons or any ‘larger purpose’ here. Just some refreshing entertainment while you watch it.

Mama’s Boy is literally about a mama’s boy, Younis (Hesham Maged)—an almost middle-aged man—who lives under the control of his strict mother (Dalal Abdulaziz). Younis’ life, including his career and love life, is dictated by his mother. He wants to be a screenwriter, a career course his mother disapproves of. She is also strictly against the woman Younis is in love with and wants to marry. Then, one day, when Younis does something against her wish, she gets a stroke and is rushed to the hospital where the doctor informs Younis that her brain is dead while her heart is still working.

On the other hand, there is the gangster Magdy Takhtokh (Shikoo) who is having issues with rival gangs while also planning a major smuggling operation. Now Magdy is a big man, literally too, and a formidable figure whose violence knows no bounds. He’s one of those gangsters who ‘shoot before they speak’. But unluckily for him, a freak accident punctures his heart the same day Younis’ mother is admitted to the hospital.

Then the strangest thing happens which leads to a major confusion in the lives of the characters. Intimidated by Magdy and his gang, the doctor at the hospital replaces Magdy’s heart with Younis’ mother’s, and that’s where the story takes the motherly turn. The gangster’s body is now pumped by a sexagenarian mother’s heart.

Against his own will and control, Magdy starts developing maternal instincts for Younis, a dangerous thing for a gangster. That sets in motion a string of incidents and events, which are improbable in real life but hilarious to watch in a spoof movie nonetheless.

Directed by Amr Salah, Mama’s Boy sure doesn’t have the finesse of Hollywood or other major movie industries, but that does not make it any less enjoyable in terms of creativity and presentation. Yes, certain scenes are shot in amateur-looking sets with flimsy props but the filmmakers don’t seem to be trying to hide anything.

There’s this unapologetic attitude that says it doesn’t care for the trivialities, which can be sensed. Throughout the film, there are momentary lapses in all aspects including direction, cinematography and acting but as no one seems to be promising perfection, it all seems intentional and part of the act. (Or is this typical of all Turkish movies?)

Average performances in all fronts that compliment each other are what make Mama’s Boy enjoyable. But still, actor Shikoo playing the gangster Magdy deserves a special mention. Despite all the shooting and murdering, Magdy is still a lovable character. (Well, that’s classic slapstick for you.) The big man manages to play a violent gangster without looking evil and when it comes to parts where he has to show Magdy’s motherly nature, he manages to do it without appearing feminine. There’s tremendous control in Shikoo’s acting that puts him in charge of how he wants to frame his character onscreen.

Who should watch it?

“Mama’s Boy” is made for all those who love slapstick comedy. But again, be warned, this genre and style might not please everybody.

Mama’s Boy

Genre: Comedy

Rating: 3.5 stars

Director: Amr Salah

Actors: Shikoo, Hesham Maged

Run time: 1hr 42mins

Rated 8.5 on IMDB, “Visaranai” (Interrogation) is one of those undiscovered gems in Netflix that needs more attention. The 2015 Tamil-language crime thriller is based on the novel “Lock Up” by M. Chandrakumar and adapted for the screen by multiple award-winning writer/director Vetrimaaran. The film itself is a winner of the coveted National Film Awards among other national and international accolades it has collected so far.

Based on M. Chandrakumar’s real life experiences as a migrant worker being wrongly detained and violently interrogated for a crime he had not been involved in, Visaranai chronicles the story of four Tamil laborers—Pandi (Dinesh Ravi), Murugan (Aadukalam Murugadoss), Afzal (Silambarasan Rathnasamy), and Kumar (Pradheesh Raj)—who work in Guntur, Andhra Pradesh. The migrant workers are so poverty stricken that they sleep in a nearby public park.

Despite the hardships, all is well for them until one night they are captured at random by the police. Trying to solve a high profile robbery, the police round up these Tamil-speaking laborers so that they can pin them as criminals and close the case. When they do not accept the charges, they are physically and mentally tortured for a confession.

The innocent group of scared young men finally yields to the vicious beatings and agrees to confess. But when they’re taken to court, they complain to the judge about the police misbehavior. In a Telugu-speaking court, they have a hard time convincing the judge, when police inspector Muthuvel (Samuthirakani) from Tamil Nadu steps in to translate for them. Muthuvel, who is in Andhra Pradesh for a case, manages to convince the judge and helps them walk free.

If you think we have already spoilt the film for you, the narration till now is actually a build-up to the story full of police brutality, treachery, power struggle, and the sacrifice of innocent lives to fulfill the ambitious of those in power. Not having read the actual book yet, this screen adaptation by Vetrimaaran is superbly adjusted to make it relatable to the audiences of developing South Asian countries.

Visaranai exposes the flaws in policing and their potential impact on the judicial system. The migrant workers from Tamil Nadu, who do not speak fluent Telugu, are metaphorically voiceless when attacked by a corrupt system. And as the film progresses, it also shows how members of the same system are then themselves victimized by those more powerful than them. The vicious circle of power struggle and chess-like pawn sacrifice is what Visaranai revolves around.

As writer and director, Vetrimaaran’s work in the film is exceptional. Not only is the screenplay tight and engaging, the film feels much shorter than its 1h 57mins length because of creative visual storytelling. Using actors who mostly play side roles in bigger-budget and stereotypical Tamil/Telugu films, Vetrimaaran has packaged real-life story into a reality-based film that is more than just entertainment. The movie not only entertains, it makes people think and be aware of the darker side of law-enforcement. Also, it asks people to be skeptical of media reports put out by powerful forces.

The actors have also contributed in giving life to the screenplay. With none of the actors identified for ‘iconic’ roles and appearances, they settle down perfectly within the storyline. Samuthirakani, one of the most experienced and versatile actors in the cast, stands out in his role as Muthuvel, a police inspector, who by turn becomes the savior, perpetrator, and victim within the film’s span.

Who should watch it?

Visaranai is the kind of South India movie that Bollywood will probably remake in years to come. But as Bollywood is known to distort things with its glitz and glamor, it’s best you watch this Tamil version, albeit with subtitles. Visaranai is an important film for serious movie buffs as well as casual audiences.

Rating: 4 stars

Genre: Crime/Drama

Actors: Samuthirakani, Dinesh Ravi, Pradheesh Raj

Director: Vetrimaaran

Run time: 1hr 57mins

The ‘Harmonium Musicals and Sports’ store at Khichhapokhari, better known as Harmonium Musicals, is not an ordinary store selling all kinds of musical instruments. It’s a piece of history with a legacy that dates back almost a century.

Around 1925, Maila Tandukar, a local from Khichapokhari, opened a music store, then unnamed, which sold harmoniums, sitar, tabala, eshraj, and taanpura, among other Eastern classical and ethnic instruments. The family now claims that it was the first music store in Nepal, and there is probably no one to contest it.

At a time there was no music industry to speak of and the sales of musical instruments was not organized, Maila’s initiative brought him good business and recognition, including from the then royal palace and the Rana families. He was invited to the palace to repair and supply musical instruments, mainly the harmonium, which earned him the name of ‘Harmonium Maila’—a nickname which soon became a stuff legend among musicians of yesteryears.

When Maila handed over the business to his eldest son Ganesh Lal (GL) Tandukar in the early 1960s, the business took a different turn. “The Hippie Era had already begun when I took over and we started seeing many Western influences in fashion, art, music and the society back then,” 80-year-old GL recalls. “Western genres like pop, blues, jazz, and rock n’ roll were getting popular among the youth and that’s when I decided to try something new with the store.”

GL then officially established the ‘Harmonium Maila & Sons’ music store which would sell imported Western musical instruments “for the first time in Nepal”. Although import was next to impossible at the time, the Tandukar family’s reputation helped him import popular brands of musical instruments from as far away as Italy, Japan, UK, Germany, and Spain, among other countries. The store’s popularity catapulted among the youth of the time who had acquired a strong taste of Western music.

As Harmonium Musicals’ legacy got engraved into hundreds and hundreds of households that had bought musical instruments from them, a third generation of the Tandukar family prepared to inherit the store, making it inarguably the oldest running in the country. Mahesh Ranjan Tandukar (57) and Prajesh Raj Tandukar (38) took gradual steps into bequeathing the business from their father, starting in the 1990s. The store was again rebranded ‘Harmonium Musicals and Sports’. As the name suggests, it also started selling sports equipment, even though music was still their main business.

“Now we’ve not only taken over the business but are also trying to expand it in terms of import and availability,” Prajesh, the younger proprietor, says. “We have gained reputation for our quality products and services but the competition is high these days.” With increased competition, the family’s concern now is not just to maintain respectable existence but also to dominate the market as it did in the old days.

While the previous generations running Harmonium Musicals had been passively reaping the fruits of the pioneer venture, the new generation is aggressively reclaiming the portions of market it lost over time. To ensure quality and best prices, Harmonium Musicals has tied up with world famous international brands like Pearl Drums, Orange Amps, ESP Guitars, Sabian Cymbals, and Takamine Guitars. As exclusive authorized distributors for most brands that it imports, Harmonium offers genuine products at competitive prices and supportive after-sales services.

Also for the first time in its almost 100-year history, Harmonium Musicals has extended its service beyond its birthplace in Khichapokhari. The store has recently opened a branch in Jawlakhel, Patan (opposite Ekta Books) and has already had customers thanking it for the expansion, the owners say.

“This business of selling musical instruments is not as easy as it looks,” Prajesh says. “We need to understand the changing needs and demands of the customers and continuously stay updated.” He is thankful to the countless loyal customers who in turn have influenced the younger generations to visit the store.

With the Covid-19 outbreak that resulted in four months of lockdown, most of the marketing, promotion and sales plans were postponed, but according to the persistent owners, it is only a matter of time before things go back to normal. Of late, Harmonium Musicals has not only been selling music instruments but also supporting and sponsoring new us well as renowned musicians in the country.

“We will also be organizing workshops and seminars for musicians at our location when the situation normalizes,” Prajesh says. “And there’s plan to include more international brands in our portfolio.”

Released in October 2019, the Malayalam-language film “Vikruthi” (transl. ‘Mischief’) is a timely warning against the dangers of the normalization of the internet voyeur culture.

Every day, we look at thousands of photos and videos of people we don’t know on social media. And we judge them based on our own life experiences. In doing so we sometimes commit the grave mistake of not looking at the ‘other side’ of the story and passing easy judgments on people we don’t know. Trial by social media is a dangerous worldwide phenomenon these days and Vikruthi warns us of its disastrous implications.

Directed by Emcy Joseph, the comedy-drama based on true events that took place in a Kochi metro train in Kerala, India, is an eye opener. Eldho (Suraj Venjaramoodu)—a hearing and speech impaired middle aged man—falls asleep on a Kochi metro train on his way home after spending a couple of sleepless nights taking care of his daughter at the hospital.

Just then, Sameer (Soubin Shahir)—a migrant worker who is in his hometown for a vacation—sees Eldho, assumes he is drunk, and posts his photo with an implicating caption on social media. The photograph becomes viral within hours and by the time Eldho and his family realize what’s happening, he has become infamous as the “Kochi Metro Drunkard.”

The film then goes on to show the effects of the viral photograph that portrays Eldho—a teetotaler school peon—as a drunkard. The photo not only affects his professional life but also puts enormous strains on his family, including his hearing and speech impaired wife, a son, and a daughter.

Despite being a debutant, director Joseph’s storytelling in this film written by Ajeesh P. Thomas is brilliant. The writer/director duo takes a small incident that also tells a representational tale of our present-day society, and weave it into a 2h 3mins film that is thoroughly entertaining and educating.

In recreating what was based on true events for the big screen, the filmmakers take minimal ‘creative liberties’ and refrain from cheap filmy gimmicks. They stay honest to their story, which also applies to the actors.

Sameer’s social media post putting Eldho into an extremely difficult situation comes back to haunt him. The photograph not only hurts Eldho’s reputation but also has a chain effect that boomerangs on the photo-taker. The two characters, who don’t know each other, are engulfed in a cyclone of fear, anxiety, and confusion—just because of one photograph.

Award-winning actors Suraj and Soubin, playing Eldho and Sameer respectively, are like ‘men-next-door’ cast randomly for a film. This characteristic of Malayalam cinema sets it apart from other film industries in India. Actors in Malayalam movies do not exaggerate or unnaturally amplify their characters. The emphasis is more on fitting their characters.

In this movie, the lead actors continue the same tradition of becoming a part of the movie without sticking out.

Who should watch it?

Vikruthi could be an enjoyable watch for anyone who likes serious dramas with a touch of dark humor. The movie is simple yet compelling, and definitely worth a watch.

Rating: 3.5 stars

Genre: Comedy/Drama

Run time: 2hrs 3 mins

Actors: Suraj Venjaramoodu, Soubin Shahir

Director: Emcy Joseph