Subtitles on Fast-Forward: A Retiree’s Thriller


(The Malayalam Thriller We Didn’t Understand, But Thoroughly Watched Anyway)

By now, the main attraction of my morning jog is not just the jog.  The real motivation is the hour spent afterwards with my walking gang,  our morning chat goes from health to cricket to politics to movies, basically the same range as a TV remote in the hands of a bored teenager, followed by a sinful breakfast at the neighbourhood Darshini. For health we jog, but for happiness we order Masala Dose after the jog.

About six months ago, one walkmate suggested a Malayalam movie.  Now I hardly go to theatres unless my nephew announces a Rajinikanth release, in which case First Day First Show becomes a matter of family honour.

This walkmate, knowing my weakness, slipped in a Malayalam OTT recommendation. I don’t have the patience for anything longer than 30 minutes, so a 2+ hour movie requires yoga-level inner peace.

Naturally, I dodged the suggestion till next morning, when he asked whether I watched it. The problem with retirement is that your excuses become unbelievable. “I was busy” is comedy when all you’ve done since sunrise is to search for the misplaced spectacles that you were already wearing.

So, I watched it.  And to my horror, loved it. And like a complete rookie, I actually appreciated him.

That created a new Malayalam bonding. We even watched a couple of non Malayalam movies in theatres with other walkmates who didn’t know this bonding came with subtitles and confusion even if it was for a English movie.

A few days ago he suggested a Malayalam movie EKO. Since our earlier success in the OTT, looked like divine intervention, I enthusiastically agreed.

We booked the only 7:30 pm show, reached 45 minutes early, devoured Pav Bhaji, and walked into a hall with more empty seats than audience. The emptiness convinced us our taste was ahead of the crowd. (We later learned the crowd might have been ahead of us.)

Within five minutes, the subtitles came running like they were late for a train. We tried whisper-updates, but both of us were equally clueless, so we surrendered and admired the scenery like Geography students. (Thank God mountains don’t need subtitles.)

By interval, we were completely lost. To our relief, even people who clearly spoke Malayalam were discussing the plot among themselves. That was extremely comforting, misery loves multilingual company.

After interval the suspense got thicker and faster and we got slower. Just when we were finally understanding which character was doing what, the movie suddenly ended. We sat staring at the blank screen, mentally searching for the missing final chapter.

While exiting, a senior gentleman asked if we knew Malayalam. I admitted we didn’t, but added that maybe we enjoyed Malayalam films BECAUSE we didn’t fully understand them. He laughed loud enough to get theatre echo.

Between the seats and the exit sign, he clarified around 20% of the story.  He introduced himself, mentioned his apartment nearby, and vanished, like a guest appearance.

After he left, most of our doubts remained rock-solid. We realised our earlier Malayalam OTT success was because those films weren’t suspense thrillers, and we could pause and rewind at leisure, without anyone in the row behind us sighing loudly.

As we stepped out, my friend whispered, “So… who was the villain finally?”  I replied, “I think it was the subtitles.”

I narrated the entire confusion to another friend. He said I should have asked the gentleman for his flat number. When I asked why, he explained:  “Now that all three of you are retired, he would’ve happily explained the remaining 80% over tea.”

Honestly, that plan sounded suspiciously logical.

There’s something charmingly Bengaluru about this, three strangers bonding over a movie no one fully understood, still having such a good time.

And somewhere between the Pav Bhaji, subtitles, and confusion, I realised something: After a certain age, we don’t go to the movies for the plot, we go for the confusion, the company, interval gossip, and the free cardio from laughing at ourselves.

So the next time you see two retirees whispering loudly in a Malayalam thriller… don’t shush us, we’re not disturbing the movie; the movie is disturbing us.



Stories, not instructions. Experiences, not advice—medical or otherwise. Data, only what the internet quietly gathers anyway. Proceed with equal parts curiosity and common sense.

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