By Praveen Chandhok
“A fulfilled life…
We roam around, searching for a self-induced illusion as the reality…
Without an understanding of anything, we imagine our own ascendancy…
Just to transcend thresholds that exist in our minds only…
Obsessed, ambitious and driven, to achieve imaginary goals…
We battle illusionary demons, devils and trolls, to elevate our lives…
Desperate to carry a glow within, and to shine upon others…
Only to realise that we are a mere firefly, in a jungle filled with teeming thousands…
Beyond all the pride, fury, ego, arrogance and venom…
Is what we have known along, without knowing at all…
That the fire within sizzles only till we are reduced to ashes and dust…
When one thinks about it, there is nothing much to think about…
Except, to accept a fulfilled life with a few unfulfilled dreams.
And nothing else matters.”
Some words do not merely introduce a film. They open a door inside us.
They arrive quietly, almost like a whisper, and yet they disturb something deep within. They do not shout for attention. They do not decorate the screen. They simply sit there – honest, bare, unguarded – and make us confront the one conversation we spend most of our lives avoiding: the conversation with ourselves.
That is what happened while watching Misty.
The opening lines, beautifully written by Shahnaab Alam, had lingered in my memory from the first time I heard them while attending the JFF 14th edition, the world’s largest travelling film festival.
This time, once again, they returned with even greater force – carried by the mellifluous voice-over of Adil Hussain, the celebrated actor known for his remarkable work across Indian independent cinema, mainstream films and international productions. His voice did not merely recite the words; it gave them breath, pain, memory and meaning.
Long after Misty was over, those lines continued to reverberate.
They speak of the strange theatre of human life – our ambitions, our self-created battles, our imagined victories, our silent defeats. We spend years chasing goals that once seemed indispensable, only to realise that many of the thresholds we crossed existed only in our minds. We fight demons that were never fully real, carry wounds that were never fully necessary, and build identities around pride, ego and ambition, forgetting that the glow we so desperately seek may be no more than the fragile light of a firefly in a vast jungle of countless other flickering lives.
And yet, there is no bitterness in those lines.
There is surrender but not defeat. There is wisdom but not preaching. There is melancholy, but also grace. The final acceptance – “a fulfilled life with a few unfulfilled dreams” – is perhaps one of the most beautiful truths one can arrive at. It recognizes that life is not measured only by completion. Some dreams must remain unfinished. Some longings must remain unnamed. Some journeys must remain suspended between memory and desire.
Perhaps that is what makes life human.
This time, the setting made the experience even more memorable. Misty was screened at Lok Bhawan, in the august presence of Governor of Uttarakhand, Lt General Gurmit Singh (Retd), who graced the occasion as Chief Guest.
The Governor was visibly moved after watching the film. He remarked that Misty had the depth and grip to be developed into a full-fledged feature film. His observation captured the essence of the evening. As he rightly said, the present is a gift one that must be seized with both hands. Yet most of us spend our lives either pining for the past or planning, while the present quietly slips away. Before we realise it, today has become yesterday.
That thought found a perfect echo in Misty.
The film follows Ziba, powerfully portrayed by our dear friend Satish Sharma, truly a shining star on the Dehradun horizon, and Shikha, played with remarkable sensitivity by Avantika Shetty. They are two souls who have spent a lifetime drowning out their inner voice, only to discover that time, the most patient witness of all, never stops recording our evasions.
Their conscience grows louder with age. Their past speaks. Their present trembles. The haunting line, “We are your past and we don’t like our present” becomes not merely a dialogue in the film, but a question to each one of us.
Are we listening to ourselves?
Misty, written and directed by Raja Chatterjee, feels like a rare, unexpected gem-reminding us that powerful cinema does not require grand scale. Sometimes, all it needs is truth, silence, a human face, and words that linger long after. Radhika Joshi, Anjali Nauriyal, and Nitish Rawat add the much-needed charm to this cinematic nugget.
A special word must be said for dear friend Satish. Like a fine grapevine, he seems only to grow richer with time. The more we see him, the more we relish his presence. His performance in Misty carried dignity, restraint and emotional weight – the kind that does not announce itself but settles slowly within the viewer.
The charm of the evening was further enhanced by theatre activist Alok Ulfat, who managed the stage in his inimitable style. His clarity of voice, effortless command and dignified presence impressed the Governor and everyone present.
But in the end, the evening belonged to those opening lines.
They reminded us that life is not about conquering everything. It is not about becoming brighter than others. It is not about winning every battle, fulfilling every ambition, or proving every point. Perhaps, after all the striving, all the noise, all the fire and fury, life gently asks us to sit still and accept what remains.
A fulfilled life.
A few unfulfilled dreams.
And nothing else matters.
(Praveen Chandhok is a Proud Josephite, Entrepreneur, Socialite and Writer.)
