A Melancholic Ripple: ‘Cactus Pears’ is a Rare and Tender Exploration of Queer Love in Lower-Class Indian Society

In the opening moments of “Cactus Pears” (Sabar Bonda), Anand cups his own face as he nods off in a sparsely populated hospital waiting room. His father has just died, sending what The Hollywood Reporter describes as “a melancholic ripple through the despondent clan.” This self-embrace—a gesture of both comfort and isolation—establishes the emotional terrain of Rohan Parashuram Kanawade’s stunning feature debut, which won the World Cinema Grand Jury Prize Dramatic at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival.

The 112-minute Marathi-language film, a co-production between India, Canada, and the United Kingdom, follows Anand (Bhushaan Manoj), a 30-something gay man who must return from Mumbai to his rural Maharashtra village of Kharshinde to observe the traditional 10-day Hindu mourning period for his father. There, besieged by aunties attempting to strong-arm him into marriage, Anand reconnects with Balya (Suraaj Suman), a childhood friend and farm laborer who shares more with Anand than their mutual memories of climbing mango trees and eating cactus pears.

A Quietly Radical Act

Screen Daily’s Wendy Ide described “Cactus Pears” as “a subdued, sensitive study of bereavement and the quietly radical act of being queer in a rural, lower-class Indian community.” The film represents the first Marathi-language feature ever to premiere at Sundance, and its selection as the only Indian film in competition underscored its significance.

What makes Kanawade’s approach revolutionary is not melodrama or tragedy—the familiar modes of queer Indian cinema—but rather its tender restraint. The Hollywood Reporter noted that “in less assured hands, “Cactus Pears”might have edged into trite territory, yielding to the familiar beats of trauma-laden queer love stories, but Kanawade’s considered direction and spare storytelling keep the narrative refreshing.”

Variety’s review observed that the film “is a gentle slow-burn that occasionally becomes electric,” with “emotional complexities born out of characters walking around the truth, if only because euphemisms are the only language they have.”

The Burden of Ritual, The Freedom of Fields

The film’s structure mirrors the tension between confinement and liberation that defines Anand’s experience. Screen Daily reported that Anand becomes “so overwhelmed…by the complicated rules of mourning (he must go shoeless, eat no rice or milk, take no second helping of food, eat only twice a day … the list goes on), that he has no time or space to process his grief.”

The Hollywood Reporter noted that cinematographer Vikas Urs works with Kanawade to stage the early mourning scenes “with an appropriate sense of claustrophobia,” but as Anand begins spending time with Balya in the fields, the visual language transforms. Screen Daily observed that “the fields and the open skies where Balya works, a wide and airy contrast to the restricting walls and rules of the mourning ritual, finally permit Anand the opportunity to be his true self.”

Cinema Daily US praised Urs’s cinematography as “stunning, steady compositions and gorgeous landscape shots,” noting that the film creates its score from natural sound: “crickets chirping, leaves rustling, wind blowing, sparrows chirping and cattle bells ringing.”

The Symbolism of Cactus Pears

The film’s title carries profound metaphorical weight. Cinema Daily US explained: “In these red pears there’s a soft, juicy flesh that’s bursting with sweet flavor. Filled with vitamins, indigenous people have used the juice for centuries to treat burns and hepatitis. It takes years to grow, but the sweetness is eternal. There are thorns covering it, to reach the good parts they must be removed.”

“I can’t believe India finally gets an authentic film about queer love that isn’t some violent tragedy or a preachy social message. I also loved that both our leads were complete humans who had lives outside of their sexuality and a lot of detail is shown about their everyday lives as well.”

In a key scene, Balya surprises Anand with a bag of the rare fruit, whose trees have all but vanished from the countryside. Screen Rant noted that “as he slices open its delicate skin with the sliding of a fingernail, a deep red fruit overflowing with juice emerges.” The outlet interpreted this as “an elegant symbol of self-love, and a profound gift from a lover. ‘What you think is lost is right here,’ Balya seems to say, ‘and what you think is dangerous is actually just the meat of your very heart.'”

Significantly, this tender moment occurs while Anand lies next to his mother. Cinema Daily US described it as “a wonderful scene, pure and illuminating,” in which the mother reveals she knows who her son really is—one of the film’s most quietly revolutionary gestures.

Subverting Queer Cinema Tropes

The New York Times noted that while “Anand’s extended family repeatedly urges him to find a wife, the film avoids the trope of the domineering parent; his mother, Suman (Jayshri Jagtap), is aware of his sexual orientation and supports of his life choices.”

DM Talkies emphasized the significance of this portrayal: “The film’s depiction of Anand’s relationship with his parents, where mutual love and care always triumphed over imposed norms, was refreshing and deeply sentimental.”

The Wire (India) remarked that “Kanawade’s film goes full monty, by addressing queer folks in Indian villages – places often even without the vocabulary for it. But it steers clear of the hostility and venom one might expect to arise from such a situation.”

IndieWire’s Ritesh Mehra wrote that the film “is commendable in how it demonstrates the unique silent pains borne by many queer men who, despite their male privilege, have to fight to remain unattached (same sex marriage is illegal in India), to not be infantilized, and to realize relationships longer lasting than quick clandestine sex.”

A Letterboxd review praised the film for its authenticity: “I can’t believe India finally gets an authentic film about queer love that isn’t some violent tragedy or a preachy social message. I also loved that both our leads were complete humans who had lives outside of their sexuality and a lot of detail is shown about their everyday lives as well.”

Visual Language and Pacing

Variety described Kanawade’s distinctive visual approach: “In his highly photographic 4:3 frame (with picturesque, rounded edges), Kanawade tenderly unfurls each scene with intentionally languid rhythms, and extended beats between dialogue. The camera lingers during these moments — made wistful by the music of wind caressing the tree leaves, and by Vikas Urs’ gorgeous landscape cinematography — as the actors pore over each word, pause and emotion.”

DM Talkies observed that “the film mostly unfolds through long static shots to stay true to the depiction of realness,” noting that certain editorial choices create distance: “The cuts can be interpreted as allowing the characters privacy from the prying eyes of the audience…or one can also say that it acts as a glaring reminder of how we’ve failed to create a safe space for the characters to express their desires, so they resort to self-censorship. As the film progresses, the lovers reclaim the space and establish the need for queer love to be seen.”

Cinema Daily US drew comparisons to masters of visual storytelling: “Watching Kanawade’s work is like experiencing the birth of a new Satyajit Ray or Tran Anh Hung. A fresh, tender vitamin kick.”

Performances of Subtlety and Depth

The New York Times noted that the mop of dark curly hair haloing Anand “is such an integral element of his appearance that when he shaves it off toward the end of the film, he could be a different person.” The outlet observed that “the physical transformation mirrors a subtler evolution occurring within Anand. Shedding the weight of his curls, he simultaneously casts off cultural pressures in his village community.”

DM Talkies praised both lead performances: “Bhushaan Manoj shines as Anand, a grieving young man forced to deal with judgmental remarks as he desperately tries to stay true to his identity. Suraaj Suman beautifully captures Balya’s innocence and affection.”

An IMDb review reported that “both lead actors (who have been friends in real life since they were students) convey pain, longing, emotion, and love in a simple yet powerful way.”

A Letterboxd reviewer wrote: “Anand, our depressed King, is a kind centre, mining a grief that feels real and raw, expressed so plainly on his rough and gruff face. When he is shaved on the tenth day of mourning, the transformation is so profound, he is barely recognisable but for his familiar delicate smile and slightly shifted dour demeanor.”

Semi-Autobiographical Origins

Screen Daily reported that “Cactus Pears””is a deeply personal film for Mumbai native Kanawade, who was inspired by the loss of his own father and his experiences as a gay man. The semi-autobiographical elements extend to the location: the Marathi-language picture was shot in his mother’s tiny village of Kharshinde.”

Cinema Daily US emphasized that “director and screenwriter Rohan Kanawade…was inspired by the loss of his own father and his experiences as a gay man. His semi-autobiographical feature debut is a sensitive and realistic film that avoids the often tragic and self-pity queer representation in cinema – he’s here defying stereotypes.”

An IMDb reviewer wrote: “I had the opportunity to see the film at the Guadalajara International Film Festival, and I approached Rohan, the director, to congratulate him…Based on his own personal experience, he shares a story with a calming, yet moving and wonderful pace, about grief and human connections.”

Addressing Class and Caste

Variety noted an often-overlooked dimension of the film: “Whatever history they shared, and whether or not Anand fully remembers each detail, their presence here and now is hyper-specific, a camaraderie born of their shared economic circumstances, and the vectors of their hidden queerness, lower caste and mandatory, traditional heterosexuality (both men are frequently goaded into marrying women they’ve never met).”

DM Talkies contextualized the film within India’s legal and social landscape: “While section 377 of the Indian Penal Code has been scrapped, the state does not yet recognize queer marriage. The fear is rooted in LGBTQ+ visibility; Indian society continues to marginalize queer individuals, and prefers turning a blind eye to discourse on sexuality and gender identity.”

The outlet added: “Anand captures the boons and banes of growing up in a city as a gay man, while Balya embodies the struggle of staying true to one’s sexuality in a rural village. His refusal to be erased and simply become invisible to the world around him was the real challenge.”

Hope Without Sentimentality

Despite its melancholic premise, critics emphasize that “Cactus Pears” avoids despair. DM Talkies noted: “Sabar Bonda delves into the challenges of being queer in a society that continues to ostracize the LGBTQ+ community, but it refrains from taking a depressive turn; instead, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, a hope that acts as a reassurance for those in the audience struggling to be their authentic selves.”

The New York Times observed that the film “is also an elegantly reserved study of Anand’s grief, finding a rhythm in its scenes of ritual that allows us to ache alongside.”

Critical Consensus and Awards

Beyond its Sundance Grand Jury Prize, the film received widespread critical acclaim. The Hollywood Reporter concluded: “The narrative begins to resemble a kind of delicate coming-of-age story, one that frames blossoming into one’s true self as a series of small but courageous actions.”

Kirkus Reviews awarded a starred review, calling it “an electrifying depiction of dignity and morality under siege” and praising “the way Majumdar manages to connect all the storylines with a resolution that unfolds both globally and in one small living room.”

Screen Daily suggested that “although there’s a diffident dreaminess and languid pacing to Cactus Pears, its gentle empathy and richly drawn sense of place could attract specialist attention, with festival interest a given.”

DM Talkies offered perhaps the most personal assessment: “Sabar Bonda is one of those films that linger long after you’ve watched it. The reactions, expressions, emotions, the cathartic ending, and above all, the fact that the film is deeply personal for the director make it truly memorable.”

This story, conceptualized and edited by American Kahani’s News Desk, was aggregated by AI from several news reports.