“Ishaan’s performance was so raw, I didn’t want to cut away to visuals. It was just one friend doing everything—food, cricket, memories—to bring another back.”

And here’s the delightful truth: the biryani moment wasn’t fiction. Ghaywan sheepishly confesses he once broke into a neighbour’s house during Eid just to steal biryani from their vessel.

“The aunty caught me but said, ‘Beta, I could have just sent it to you.’” His grin is equal parts nostalgia and mischief.

No saints, no monsters

Here’s where Homebound refuses to sugarcoat: it doesn’t traffic in caricatures. There are no evil oppressors and no halo-wearing victims. Instead, Ghaywan insists, “People fail people. Miscommunication, prejudice, background—those divide us, not religion or caste alone. Even people you disagree with deserve empathy.”

That’s a radical thought in today’s India, where ideological trenches are so deep they could swallow us whole. But Ghaywan isn’t interested in widening divides—he’s interested in stitching them, however messily.

Scorsese + Johar = a cinematic odd couple

The story behind the film is almost as fascinating as the film itself. Picture this: Martin Scorsese giving edit notes on a film set in a dusty Indian village. Karan Johar leveraging his glamour machine to ensure the same film isn’t confined to festival circles.

“Scorsese loved the script and mentored us through the edit,” Ghaywan says, almost casually—as if it’s no big deal that cinema’s godfather is WhatsApping him about narrative arcs.

“And Karan? He ensured this wasn’t just an indie darling applauded abroad but unseen at home. He believed in the story without caring about labels like ‘rural’ or ‘arthouse.’”

Now, say what you want about Johar’s love for sequins and Swiss mountains, but credit where it’s due: his heft will make sure Homebound isn’t just consumed by elite cinephiles in Paris but also by audiences in Pune and Patna.

Oscars vs the real prize

So, is this all about Oscar glory? “No,” Ghaywan says, and for once it doesn’t sound like hollow humility.

“One of our community members watched it and cried, saying, ‘I feel seen, heard, represented.’ That’s my victory.”

Cynics will scoff, but there’s something disarming about how he says it. For Ghaywan, the Academy statue would be icing, not the cake. The cake is empathy and perhaps, making upper-class audiences squirm in their plush seats. The cake is showing marginalised kids that their stories matter.

Where activism fails, cinema still bites

Here’s the uncomfortable truth: journalism and activism may rage against India’s divides, but their impact often fizzles against apathy or fatigue. Cinema, when honest, cuts through.

“Art crosses barriers,” Ghaywan insists. “It doesn’t preach—it connects. We’ve gone too far down the road of hate. Now it’s about rebuilding.”

That’s a lofty claim, but one that makes sense when you see Homebound. The discrimination and the apathy isn't on the nose.

The personal beneath the politics

The film isn’t just political—it’s personal. Chandan’s story is rooted in Ghaywan’s own. Growing up in a patriarchal Dalit household, he admits he tried to “pass” as upper caste.

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