Akshay Shirke’s ‘Louis’ is a Meditation on Loss, Memory, and the Invisible Threads That Connect Us
- What gives the short film its quiet power is its faith in images over words.
“Louis,” a haunting short film by talented filmmaker Akshay Shirke, seeps deep into the viewer’s psyche. It lays bare the language of grief, bridging generations and immigrant cultures with such simplicity and emotional honesty. As the filmmaker says, “It’s not just about a pet or a parent — it’s about the silent grief we carry.”
I first watched “Louis” at the Tara Theater during the Atlanta Indian Film Festival in September 2025. Seated beside Shirke and his girlfriend, I felt their excitement mingled with the weariness of travel from Canada and a busy first day: meeting people, being asked about subject, process, and authenticity. Yet their passion never dimmed. During the screening, Shirke sat on the edge of his seat, attentive to each audience reaction. The energy in the theater was palpable, and it mirrored back in him.
Story in Brief
“Louis” follows Kalpen, a young Indian boy in Nova Scotia, mourning the death of his pet hamster. Simultaneously, his father Avneesh holds unspoken sorrow from the loss of his own father. The film weaves a delicate tapestry between two modes of grief: Indian traditions and Western ones, between what each generation expresses and what each holds within.
Personal Echoes
The film stirred memories of my own life. I remember how deeply I felt when a neighbor’s hamster died. Later, when my father passed away, I was devastated. “Louis” unearthed both of those memories. A few months later, my then-five-year-old grandson asked me, “Why were you crying when your father left? Where did he go? Why is he not with us anymore?” His mother had told him my father had died, but left much unspoken. His question struck at the heart of “Louis.” Children carry grief too, even when they don’t voice it. I held him close and told him that his great-grandpa was in heaven, watching over us, sharing in our joys and our sorrows.
Striking Visuals Over Dialogue
What gives “Louis” its quiet power is its faith in images over words. Some of its most memorable visuals:
- A makeshift burial box filled with toys
- A garland of pencil shavings
- A shovel leaning by the door
- A solemn pause before the burial
- Sharing gulab jamuns and ice cream
These silent gestures often communicate more than dialogue ever could. Shirke’s visual storytelling is meticulously storyboarded and rooted in poetic restraint. The influence of Japanese filmmaker Yasujiro Ozu is evident. Spare, composed, meaningful.
A Conversation With Akshay Shirke
Q: How did the idea of burying a hamster alongside linking family loss emerge?
A: The story was partially inspired by a time when a friend’s pet hamster died under Shirke’s care. Paired with conversations with his father about losing his own father, these personal threads led to the intertwining of a small creature’s death and generational grief.
Q: The burial box, the garland. Where did these images originate?
A: Shirke wanted to frame the narrative with two culturally resonant rituals: a Western-style burial with toys and a more traditional Indian remembrance via a garland. The pencil-shaving garland isn’t from literal memory but from the idea of making ritual out of simple, available materials.
Q: Why rely heavily on visual storytelling instead of dialogue?
A: Inspired by Ozu’s “show, don’t tell” philosophy, every frame in Louis was carefully storyboarded. Silence, gesture, and space serve as conduits for emotion.
Q: The boy asks whether Grandpa’s soul is in Louis. Why that line?
A: It’s a device to challenge both father and story to confront hidden grief. The father’s agreement to cremate Louis becomes symbolic. A step toward acknowledging the grief he has long suppressed over his own father’s death.
Q: “Pain never goes away — you make friends with it.” Where did that come from?
A: Influenced in part by the emotional arcs in films like Inside Out, where sadness and memory are given value. Many of Shirke’s emotional cues derive from films that have shaped him. That line captures a universal truth about grief.
Q: Why does the boy wash his father’s bowl?
A: It echoes Hindu funeral rites, where the son washes the body (or symbolic equivalent) prior to cremation. In Louis, washing the bowl symbolizes the boy beginning to reckon with impending death—his father’s, and his own grief.
Q: Tell us about the music choice by an Italian artist.
A: Editor Amy Mielke Jerrett used “Berlin” by Bottega Baltazar as a temp track for the rough cut. Though they had considered composing original music (e.g. recorder, guitar), they felt “Berlin” captured the mood so precisely that they retained it. Sometimes an external piece resonates with the film in unexpected, perfect ways.
Final Thoughts
Written, directed, and produced by Shirke with a budget of just $10,000, and coproduced by Sehmat Suri, “Louis” achieves something many larger films don’t: a lingering echo. For Shirke, seeing words on the page and then sharing them…even if they resonate with just one person, is enough to affirm authenticity. The film is a meditation on loss, memory, and the invisible threads that connect us. It reminds us that grief is universal, and sometimes what’s left unsaid carries the deepest weight.
For me, the film struck a personal chord. My father’s favorite dessert was gulab jamun. it was the last thing he ate before passing. “Louis” brought back those quiet memories, underscoring how deeply food, ritual, and small acts anchor us to those we love and lose.
With one foot in Huntsville, Alabama, the other in her birth home, India, and a heart steeped in humanity, Monita Soni writes as a contemplative practice. She has published hundreds of poems, movie reviews, book critiques, and essays, and contributed to combined literary works. Her two books are My Light Reflections and Flow Through My Heart. You can hear her commentaries on Sundial Writers Corner, WLRH 89.3 FM.