Produced by AM Television, Xitore Xemeka Rati – The Winter Rain was released on January 31st in select theaters across Assam. The film is a love story centered around the characters Partha, Martin, Pranab, and Anu. After Satya-The Truth (2024), Xitore Xemeka Rati is another major commercial Assamese release that explores the dynamics of same-sex relationships.
Visually, Xitore Xemeka Rati resembles a low-budget pilot episode, shot impromptu between the production of two TV serials. Apart from occasional flashes of competent cinematography, everything else feels geared towards a small-screen audience. Lacking story and substance, the plot is thin, the soul borrowed, the music loud, and the acting often melodramatic.
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The scenes featuring Rimjhim Deka (as the housemaid, Kumoli) were difficult to watch, and the interactions between Trisha Saikia (Anu) and Jit Chaliha (Pranab), who play husband and wife, seemed to have been approved on the first take (especially when Pranab serenades Anu with “Chaudhavin Ka Chand Ho Tum”). Adding to this, Anchit Udayaditya, who plays Partha, the only son of Anu and Pranab, is a young graduate preparing for the GMAT, yet throws tantrums like a random 10-year-old. The only redeeming qualities were Ramjyoti Krishnacharan’s well-lit interior shots and the relatively grounded performances of Palashree Das (Sumana) and Dipankar Roy (Martin).
Directed by Dipankar Kashyap, the film is heavily promoted on Instagram, suggesting its target demographic. However, this demographic has likely already seen Luca Guadagnino’s Call Me by Your Name (2017). In Call Me by Your Name, Elio is initially irritated when his father, a professor, invites a young scholar, Oliver, to stay with them for the summer. Soon, a connection forms, developing into a queer relationship between Elio and Oliver, with Marzia (Elio’s friend) caught in between. The same structure exists in Xitore Xemeka Rati – The Winter Rain. Simply replace Oliver with Martin, Elio with Partha, and Marzia with Sumana. The primary differences are superficial. Both Elio and Partha share a passion for music. However, Xitore Xemeka Rati lacks the affectionate warmth and quiet sadness that made Guadagnino’s film so emotionally resonant.
In Call Me by Your Name, Oliver leaves Elio’s home after the summer, and Elio later receives a phone call about Oliver’s engagement. Elio then sits facing the fireplace as the flames flicker in his eyes and tears roll down his face. This scene unfolds slowly, uninterrupted by cuts, conveying a range of emotions through visual motifs—fire and tears. In Xitore Xemeka Rati, Martin leaves unannounced. Upon inquiry, Partha’s mother informs him of Martin’s departure. Partha hurries to the taxi stand and meets Martin, where they discuss love, acceptance, and separation. Martin says, “I was like winter rain…brief but intense,” and then leaves. Soon after, a downpour washes over a emotionally broken Partha. The ending seems adequate on paper, but its impact is diminished by its melodramatic, “heightened Indian-ness.”
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While Xitore Xemeka Rati occasionally handles non-heterosexual love with sensitivity, the love between Partha and Martin lacks sufficient development. Its introduction feels abrupt, almost forced. While the film initiates a necessary conversation, this cannot justify its creative shortcomings. Furthermore, its “boldest steps” (within the context of Assamese cinema) were already taken in last year’s Satya: The Truth (2024). Beyond a few kissing scenes between the male protagonists and a brief glimpse of a butt crack, there is little narrative risk-taking or creative visual engagement. Much of the film consists of two people having conversations—inside, outside, in the library, at a café, on the road, or sometimes under a tree. It could easily be experienced as an audiobook or radio drama.
Like many films about queer love, Xitore Xemeka Rati reinforces the idea that certain sexualities do not belong in ‘public’ spaces (spaces of power and visibility) and that same-sex love is something to be hidden (and thus relegated to spaces of marginalization). After Anu discovers her son and Pranab together, she reacts strongly. Martin leaves their home soon after.
By relying on the trope of separation and tragedy, the film frames queer love as doomed to failure or ending in punishment. The problem isn’t the tragedy itself, but the fact that we have seen similar stories countless times. Continuing to tell such stories limits representation and the potential for stories of love, pride, and agency.
This issue also existed in Satya-The Truth (2024), written by Uttpal Upamanya and directed by Rupjyoti Borthakur. Cinema should not reinforce heteronormative structures that confine queer people to limited portrayals. It should be a force of liberation, not a contributor to the normalization of anti-LGBTQ+ attitudes.
One might argue that Anu’s reaction stems from losing her husband to Martin first and then her son. However, the saddest part is that Xitore Xemeka Rati is never truly Anu’s story. Her perspective as a wife and mother is not properly contextualized. Yes, the film could have been a story about Anu, a wife who lost her husband, Pranab, to Martin, and then her son, Partha. But instead, she is simply stranded in a story that isn’t hers. Her dilemma is not given prominence, nor is her performance emotionally highlighted. She merely exists in a story about Martin, Pranab, and Partha. The only moment of reflection for her character occurs when she asks her maid why she doesn’t leave her abusive husband. The maid replies, “What to do, after all, he is my husband.”