Cactus Pears Review: Indian Romance Portrays the Juice of Queer Love In the Midst of Grief

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I was really struck by how Sabar Bonda bookends its story with such intimate moments of physical connection. It opens with Anand, played by Bhushaan Manoj, alone and almost cradling himself while anxiously waiting for news about his father. And it closes with him finally letting someone hold him, a powerful scene taking place in the tight confines of his Mumbai apartment. Rohan Kanawade’s film is a beautifully subtle romance, but it’s also about a young man learning to move from being fiercely independent to allowing himself to be vulnerable. Both approaches are ways of coping, but it’s that final embrace that feels like a true step forward, hinting at a brighter future.

Kanawade’s first feature film isn’t the first to explore a gay man returning home to a conservative environment, but it stands out for its gentle approach. The film beautifully portrays Anand’s journey of self-discovery as he reconnects with his traditional, religious roots, handled with sensitivity and care. The camera work is deliberately subtle, often staying fixed to allow viewers to observe Anand as he figures out how to stay true to himself while still respecting his family and their values.

Anand returned to his family home in Western India because his father is very sick. With his brother already gone, Anand is now the only child and has been paying for his father’s medical care and funeral preparations. He’s anxious to return to the city, where people are more accepting of his sexuality, but his mother, Jayshri Jagtap, insists he remain for the traditional ten-day mourning period. He stays, navigating constant questions from neighbors about when he’ll marry – a decision that needs to happen within a year or be delayed for three – and doing his best to observe all the complicated customs and rules.

As a supporter, I’m letting you know about some important customs to follow. For the first ten days, you won’t be wearing any shoes. We also practice humility by sitting on the floor when visiting others, and even sleeping on the floor ourselves. Meals are simple – just two home-cooked ones a day, so make sure you take enough the first time! Rice and milk are off-limits, and we only drink black tea. If you get a little hungry between meals, fruit is fine. We also avoid temples, and don’t cut our hair or beards, or wear hats. There’s some discussion about washing your hair – it seems the rule might be for women only, but it’s best to check.

Kanawade quickly establishes that Anand doesn’t quite fit in, and he only goes along with how others expect him to grieve out of respect for his mother. Because this is a gossipy community, his unmarried status is subtly used to question his sexuality, without anyone directly saying he’s gay. His mother advises him to tell people he simply hasn’t met the right person, hoping to stop the rumors. Anand responds with courage, saying he won’t mislead anyone. While his mother knows he’s gay, she initially wants him to keep it private.

Anand is a reserved man, and Manoj perfectly captures this, showing a deep sadness carefully hidden beneath a calm exterior. He maintains this distance until he reconnects with Balya (Suraaj Suman), a childhood friend who also prefers to stay single. They quickly become comfortable with each other, and Anand spontaneously shares his grief over his father’s death during one of their first conversations. Balya responds by encouraging him to spend time outdoors, and for days, the two men open up to each other, finding solace in the fresh air and sunshine.

Everyone in town is talking about Anand and Balya, but it’s all hushed and indirect. No one actually says what they’re thinking about their relationship, and honestly, that’s been a relief. It’s given them space to figure things out for themselves, and to get closer. Now that Anand’s period of mourning is ending, and Balya is thinking about moving to Mumbai with him, I realize the town’s reluctance to speak openly is actually letting them live their lives. It’s true what they say – you can’t hold onto something if you can’t even bring yourself to name it.

Balya appears self-assured and at peace with who he is, but Anand needs to earn that comfort by both accepting and dealing with the opinions of others. Fortunately, his father was unusually supportive, emphasizing self-knowledge above all else, and his mother eventually encourages him to ignore outside criticism. Through their shared grief, a mother and son find a deeper connection and understanding of each other.

The movie is named after a nearly extinct fruit found in the region. In a touching moment, Balya surprises Anand with a bag of them. These pink, oval fruits usually have thorns, but Balya carefully removed them for Anand to enjoy without worry. When Anand delicately opens one, a deep red, juicy fruit is revealed. It’s a beautiful representation of self-acceptance and a meaningful gift from someone who cares deeply. Balya seems to be saying: “What you believe is gone is actually here with you, and what seems frightening is simply the core of who you are.” The message is simple: embrace yourself and live authentically.

Cactus Pears opens in select theaters on November 21st.

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2025-11-20 11:58