Almost anyone who has lost a family member can attest to the fact that it often feels as though there’s no correct way to be, after. Depending on cultural or religious traditions, there might be specific and expected rituals and events, but even still, there’s often this emptiness to them that’s difficult to describe, short of acknowledging that no rite could come close to representing who that person truly was, in their life.
Rohan Parashuram Kanawade’s Marathi-language directorial debut “Sabar Bonda” (or “Cactus Pears,” translated) deals with the intricacies of grief and the uncertainties of love, and the beauty that can grow out of tragedy. “Cactus Pears” premiered at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival, taking home the World Cinema Grand Jury Prize Dramatic. It also played at the Indian Film Festival of Los Angeles (IFFLA) on May 8.
“Cactus Pears” begins in a hospital, with Anand (Bhushaan Manoj) and his mother Suman (Jayshri Jagtap). It becomes clear that Anand’s father has unexpectedly passed away after illness, and soon, Anand and Suman leave the city of Mumbai for Anand’s father’s rural village, where his extended family still lives. A typical 10-day ritual is to take place, though Anand doesn’t want to stay the whole time; it is never explicitly said whether he does not believe in the traditions, feels that it is not his place, or does not want to leave the more familiar city, though it is likely a mix of all three. He does end up going with Suman, though, and what ensues is an experience of discovery.
Anand learns new details about himself and his family over the course of “Cactus Pears,” yet where a lesser film might be precipitated on a certain kind of self-discovery, in this one, there are almost no pretenses. Even before Anand reaches the village, his sexuality is made clear to the audience. On the journey over, he goes to text someone (an ex, we later learn) about his father’s death — there is maybe a hint of a bait-and-switch in that the photo of this person that he looks at has a man and a woman in it, but almost immediately after this happens, Suman makes reference to Anand’s sexuality. From here it becomes clear that not only is Anand (most likely) gay, but that his mother is aware of and to some degree, accepting of that fact.
Once Anand and Suman arrive at the village, collective grieving ensues, creating a scene of bereft women and stoic men. As a whole, there’s a lot of people putting on brave faces in “Cactus Pears” — Suman keeps it together until she has more privacy, and it takes the entire film for Anand to properly break down. Once they’re settled, Anand and Suman are talked through the traditions expected of them over the next ten days. Neither are permitted to wear shoes, for example, and while Anand cannot cut his hair or beard, Suman isn’t allowed to wash her hair. It’s quite a striking sequence, if only for the fact that rarely in film does one see last rites and traditions performed in such detail, let alone when the film is focused on a non-Western religion or culture. Anand’s family bickers relentlessly about doing the ritual correctly (and who should do what), in a way that is so effortlessly naturalistic. Everyone and their mother has an opinion, and all Anand and Suman can do is grieve (and even in that regard, they’re policed on how to mourn properly).
Amid the emotional turmoil of having to cremate his father, Anand reconnects with his childhood friend Balya (Suraaj Suman). Like Anand, Balya is unmarried, and like Anand again, it appears that on some level Balya’s parents are aware of his sexuality. Yet unlike Anand’s relationship with Suman, there’s an underlying tension between Balya and his parents that seemingly has roots in their inability to fully understand or accept him. Balya claims he has no obligation to marry, yet when word comes that there may be a woman who would wed him, his whole family jumps to try to make it happen.
As “Cactus Pears” progresses, Anand and Balya get closer, Anand often spending the day with Balya as the latter man cares for his goats. Early on, the two of them are seen speaking while Balya milks a cow. The entire scene takes place in a single static shot, slightly removed from the men — there’s a distance that the audience is kept at, that only serves to heighten the underlying intimacy between them. The lighting, similar to much of the film, is gorgeous, the sun picking up clouds of dust as they dance across the screen. The framing and layers of the natural environments that much of “Cactus Pears” takes place in create a sense of visual depth and intrigue that captures its story perfectly, giving the whole film a contrasting feeling of fragility yet strength, one that parallels Anand’s own emotional state.
While Anand and Balya’s relationship is a significant aspect of the film — one that serves as a form of healing for Anand — it also highlights equally important themes of this story: traditions, expectations and perceptions. Anand’s father’s aunt is the most critical of his extended family, continuously bringing up Anand’s marital status (according to tradition, now that his father has passed Anand must marry in either one year or three, and much of his family is now pushing for the shorter period of time given that Anand is in his 30s). Additionally, the people in the village feel, on some level, a sense of disdain for Anand’s father for leaving them and raising a family in the city; Anand is often the subject of derision, such as when someone says that he can’t handle being out with Balya and the goats because “he works in an air conditioned office.”
While Anand’s extended family’s comments clearly cut when it comes to him and his mother, there’s a profound separation that “Cactus Pears” establishes between them and Anand’s closer relationships. In a moment where Anand’s ex comes up, it becomes clear that Suman and Anand’s father had previously told their family that the ex was a woman. While their withholding of information about Anand’s sexuality and love life initially comes from fear about what people will say about him and them, this same withholding eventually evolves into a form of protection. Queer liberation is often framed through a Western lens that prioritizes openness with others over everything else. “Cactus Pears” understands that liberation can come in smaller doses. Anand would not necessarily be freer for telling everyone in the village about his sexuality — ultimately they’re just blood. His freedom comes from his mother’s acceptance and the life he could build with Balya, two ideas that come to be understood via a conversation Anand has with Suman, and the film’s ending back in Mumbai.
“Cactus Pears” elegantly walks a line between a hopeful yet tragic romance, and the pain of death that allows that same romance to blossom. Neither story is underexplored, resulting in a quiet and touching film filled with penetrating conversations and symbolism-laden visuals; Anand and Balya’s conversation about dreams under the cover of night comes to mind, as does the village’s choice to cover an old stone temple with cement, suggesting that the beauty of tradition is often replaced in favor of structure and stability, even if what made the traditions special in the first place is lost to future generations.
Although there is no official release slated for “Cactus Pears,” it continues to screen at festivals worldwide — after IFFLA this month, it travels to Sweden for the Göteborg Film Festival in early 2026. It feels diminishing to this tender film to say it leans more on its romantic plot or family themes; one makes the other possible, creating a story that feels grounded, touching and beautifully mundane. “Cactus Pears” suggests that while there might be cultural rules for mourning just as there might be societal rules for love, neither encapsulate the feelings they represent — and perhaps, some rules are just meant to be broken.