Girlfriend

Today I watched a Telugu movie called Girlfriend, with Rashmika in the lead. The film inspired me, especially the way her character travels from fear to courage. That journey mirrors my own life in many ways, which is probably why I connected with it deeply, even though many critics gave it only average ratings. Their view is different; they watch from outside. But if you step into the character’s shoes, the slow pacing does not feel like a problem at all.

What stayed with me is the value the movie adds by the end. It leaves a strong note in the mind: be courageous, even after deep hurt. In contrast, many mass entertainers show a “powerful” hero surrounded by noise and celebration, but leave us with nothing to carry into real life. They may be fun time-pass, but they rarely offer something that can actually support a common man. This is not a judgment on any film; it is simply my point of view on what truly stays with the heart.

I also see a noticeable transformation in the way stories like this are told today. In older films, a character in Rashmika’s situation often ended in suicide. Parents carried lifelong shame, the crowd blamed and gossiped, and the story froze everyone in guilt and tragedy. Now, while people still make fun of someone who is suffering, it is not as cruel and absolute as before. More importantly, many newer stories show characters who bounce back with courage instead of choosing death. This shift towards resilience is a very healthy change.

All of this made me reflect on Storytelling itself. Storytelling is an art, and some people seem to be born with that gift. For a moment, I imagined myself as a writer and asked: should I be careful about what I express? If I become too cautious, creativity feels blocked. But if I write whatever comes to mind, am I being responsible toward the people who will read or watch it?

People are diverse, and what is good for one may not be good for another. Trying to write something that suits everyone made me freeze; I could not complete even one paragraph in that mindset. So I sat in silence. Then a simple inner guidance appeared: “Feel what you are writing.”

If I write a story that ends in suicide or pure loss, and then close my eyes and feel that ending, I can sense heavy pain inside. If I write a story that ends with courage, understanding, or inspiration, and I close my eyes and feel that, I experience a quiet joy. Both pain and joy are real, and both exist in life, but as a creator I have a choice: what do I want to share?

In the end, that becomes my compass: Feel the story in the heart first. If it fills me with darkness, I think twice. If it fills me with light, I am happy to let that light travel through my words into the world.