More Than A Movie: How Ayodhi Rekindled A Painful, Beautiful Memory

There’s been a lot of buzz around the Tamil movie Tourist Family, starring Sasi Kumar and Simran. The film tells the story of a Sri Lankan Tamil family who, in the wake of Sri Lanka’s 2022 economic crisis, migrates to India through illegal means.

After watching it, I was prompted to revisit another Sasi Kumar film titled Ayodhi, released in 2023. That film struck a deep emotional chord with me, as it reminded me of a very personal experience in my own life.

We often talk about wars, economic collapse, and humanitarian crises unfolding across the world, and how human lives can be reduced to mere statistics. But every now and then, a film like Ayodhi reminds us of the humanity that still exists, the everyday angels we encounter when we need them most.

For me, that moment was on August 26, 2007.

That morning, my father drove my younger sister to her college, a two-hour journey, for her dance rehearsal ahead of the freshmen welcome event. Being a Sunday, the rest of us were at church attending morning mass. After dropping her off around 8:15 AM, he waited in the college’s reception area and ordered a coffee from the nearby cafeteria.

At around 8:30 AM, he suddenly collapsed.

Students, staff, and parents nearby rushed him to the campus’s emergency unit, where paramedics administered CPR and called an ambulance. He was transferred to a nearby hospital, but was sadly declared dead upon arrival.

My sister, just a first-year student and still new to the campus, was present moments after he collapsed. She stood there, helpless and in shock, with no friends or family around.

That’s when an unexpected angel stepped in—her English lecturer.

He stayed with her at the hospital, comforted her, and called our landline repeatedly until we returned from church. He gently informed us that our father had collapsed, though he didn’t reveal the heart-breaking news until we arrived.

My brother and I immediately hired a random van from a nearby street. Having no clue who the driver was and made the 2.5-hour journey. Upon reaching, we were told the devastating truth. There were no family members nearby to console us. Just three siblings in our early twenties, trying to comprehend our father's sudden death.

That lecturer didn’t leave our side. He handled all the hospital formalities, including paperwork to avoid a post-mortem, and ensured our father's body was released that same afternoon. We had no access to funds. My ATM card got stuck in the machine because I panicked, and we had no idea about our father’s finances. But the people around us, mostly strangers, collected enough money to arrange transportation for the body. Remarkably, the van driver refused to accept payment for the full-day trip.

Back home, the rituals and preparations required financial support, but our neighbours and friends took care of everything without being asked. Our mother, grieving in solitude until relatives arrived hours later, was comforted by our Muslim neighbours. They stayed by her side, fed her, and looked after the house while visitors poured in.

Looking back, we navigated that tragic day solely through the kindness of others. Despite our inexperience, we gave our father the dignified farewell he deserved. Something still remembered with reverence. And it was made possible by people who, in many cases, were strangers.

That experience shaped our lives. Since then, my siblings and I made a vow: to be that helping hand, that kind stranger, that God-sent angel for someone else in need.

Films that reflect this kind of humanity deserve recognition. Especially in a time when compassion often feels scarce. The world keeps turning not just because of systems and science, but because of the quiet kindness of people who choose to show up for others.