Parikshit comes home after a long day of work. His empty house immediately establishes not only a sense of loneliness but also isolation. As he begins flipping through magazines with photos of gorgeous women, the viewer’s first instinct is to associate his gaze with lust. 
There is longing in the eyes, and the narrative progresses to unpack it. <br><br>
The emotional state is suddenly broken by an act of brutal violence that takes within the house. It is inflicted on someone who is not revealed, except for her voice, and the crux of the narrative thus comes to pivot on the identity of the victim. <br><br>

Despite the presence of well-meaning and concerned family members, the only witnesses that remain privy to the plight, misery as well as the acts of violence of the protagonist, are lifeless inanimate objects and pictures within the house. Though a little limited in its overall production value, the film portrays all of this by way of a competent performance, eventually making a crucial comment about the overwhelming oppression that follows in the wake of deviating from the set order of things, the consequent suppression of one’s core identity, and how torturous it can truly be for someone who experiences it all without any support systems in a predominantly conformist world. 


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