The Lunchbox
Ritesh Batra
The story: Ila (Nimrat Kaur) tries to get her husband’s attention by trying something new in the kitchen. But thanks to a mix-up in the lunchbox delivery system in Mumbai, her tiffin carrier of home-cooked goodness goes to Saajan Fernandez (Irrfan Khan), a loner office worker about to retire. Thus begins an exchange of handwritten notes between the two and an unlikely friendship develops.

The dabbawallas are part of a fascinating food delivery system in Indian cities in which freshly cooked meals make their way to thousands of office workers every day. It is a daunting task, given the numbers involved, the challenging state of Indian traffic and the fact that most of the dabbawallas, or carriers, are illiterate.
Drawing inspiration from this feat of logistical wonder, writer-director Ritesh Batra has come up with a moving tale about urban loneliness and human connection. The Hindi and English film is also a portrait of modern India, one that is not cloaked in over-the-top song and dance but is instead rooted in everyday life.
The opening scenes have a quasi-documentary feel to them as we follow the journey of one particular lunchbox from Ila’s kitchen to its final destination. When it makes its way back to her, completely empty, we share her joy, and disappointment when she realises a mistake was made in the delivery. The mistake though sets off a chain of events that will ultimately change her life.
Despite making his debut feature, Batra shows an assured grasp of story-telling as he deftly handles moments of drama, comedy and tragedy. And as the film’s distributor kindly cautioned, do not watch the film on an empty stomach or the food scenes will tip your hunger pangs over the edge.
Batra is also able to coax finely wrought characterisations from the actors. There is not a single false note in how the story develops and in the sensitive and naturalistic performances.
Award-winning Bollywood actor Khan (Life Of Pi, 2012) goes from being a curmudgeonly widower to a man who believes in life again, while film and stage actress Kaur (Peddlers, 2012) thoroughly slips under the skin of a regular wife and mother who begins to find her own voice.
The epistolary device may be old-fashioned but Batra and his co-writer Rutvik Oza have found a way to make it work in a modern-day setting. In an age of text messages and e-mail, the handwritten notes confer a conspiratorial intimacy between Ila and Saajan. The forms of address they use for each other further flesh out the characters, particularly as we get to hear the tone in the voiceovers. Saajan writes “Dear Ila”, exuding the easy confidence of an older man; Ila begins her notes with “Hello” without adding a name, a little distant as if aware of the possible impropriety.
Surrounding the two main roles is an indelible cast of supporting characters. There is the heard-but-not-seen Auntie upstairs who dishes out cooking and all other kinds of advice to Ila as well as Shaikh (Nawazuddin Siddiqui), the new guy taking over Saajan’s job. Shaikh seems at first to be too slick for his own good but gradually, he bonds with Saajan over shared lunches and train journeys.
It is Shaikh who shares with Saajan a piece of homespun homily: Sometimes, the wrong train can get one to the right station.
As Saajan and Ila’s relationship deepens, the movie teases us: Do they meet up? What happens when they do? Will there be a happy ending?
Early on, Ila thanks Saajan for giving her something to hope for while waiting for the tiffin carrier’s return. And it is what the film’s ending does, holding out the possibility of hope for Saajan, and also for the audience, as a group of dabawallas chant away joyously.