You know that insatiable urge to tell horror stories when you are around a campfire within the arms of darkness? The urge that spooks and tempts, sending a different kind of thrill down your spine, of something forbidden, something unbidden, of something that mimics an echo in a forest, ricocheting off so many surfaces that you remember its timbre, its tenor, its pitch in different ways at different times? Like a haunting, a distant beautiful haunting that is disturbing as much as it is riveting? While watching film-maker Leena Manimekalai’s newest work, Maadathy – An Unfairy Tale, her first work of fiction, I felt exactly that – like Leena and I were sitting across each other, with a candlelight for company, and she is telling me this story, with all its visual heft and narrative splendour, and I am becoming impossibly drawn into its world so that when the film is over and the candle flame no more casts its spell, I scarcely feel the daylight that has sneaked up on me.
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