Directed by Neeraj Ghaywan, Homebound is a quietly powerful drama that marries social critique with intimate human storytelling. Set against the backdrop of rural North India and the sudden lockdown due to the Covid-19 pandemic, the film follows two childhood friends.   

Through the eyes of Shoaib and Chandan, the film dissects the intersections of caste, religion, and class, culminating in the harrowing exodus of migrant workers during the Covid-19 lockdown. 

Substituting traditional melodrama for a stark, observational style, Ghaywan captures the quiet dignity of those pushed to the periphery of society. It is a film that transforms the “migrant crisis” from a statistic into a deeply personal tragedy, reminding us that for some, the journey home is the ultimate act of resistance.

The film is realistic yet symbolic in its own way. Void of any musical number and dramatic background music, the movie creates moods through the surroundings. None of the atrocities faced by the characters seems forced; rather, carefully integrated as normal through dialogues and a silent understanding among the characters and the audience.

The film draws its emotional core from Peer’s “A Friendship, a Pandemic and a Death Beside the Highway,” a piece sparked by the viral photo of a migrant worker holding his dying friend. Homebound is more than a pandemic survival story; it is a sharp critique of caste-based discrimination in India. 

Through Pratik Shah’s authentic lens, the film captures the textures of Madhya Pradesh while building a tension-filled narrative around Chandan (Vishal Jethwa). His decision to lie about his caste category during an exam result check serves as a pivotal moment of social commentary that resonates through the film’s final act.

The first few minutes are enough to set the mood for this film. The caste system is shown not abruptly but in a subtle, restrained way, through Chandan’s family members losing jobs and Shoaib being overly scrutinised. Both Shoaib and Chandan hail from impoverished families, but they differ in their way of unhappiness. 

Chandan’s mother’s love for her land, though having a leaking roof above her head and cracked, rough feet, creates a stark contrast with Shoaib’s father’s wish to send his son to Dubai.

Both men prepare for the police recruitment exam, a pathway that promises not wealth but stability, respect, and the rare possibility of social acceptance. Their need for respect and pride is evident in Chandan’s unwillingness to fill out forms under the SC (Scheduled Caste) category.

The early stretch of the film observes their routines with unadorned care: study sessions interrupted by labour, conversations shaped by fatigue, ambition tempered by the knowledge of who is allowed to succeed. 

A supporting character, Sudha Bharti, a young woman pursuing education, appears during this period, offering contrast rather than rescue. She speaks of exams and futures with a confidence that feels earned but not universally accessible. 

Her presence briefly expands the horizon of the film, suggesting how class and exposure quietly alter the odds long before merit is assessed. Sudha’s presence influences Chandan to enrol on a university. 

Performances hold the film together. The actors bring vulnerability to their roles, and their chemistry as childhood friends fully convinces. Ishaan’s emotional breakdown hits hard in one scene, while Vishal’s turn in the climax lingers long after. Janhvi Kapoor delivers an earnest performance, while Shalini Vatsa, as Chandan’s mother, quietly grounds the film with grace.

Both Chandan and Shoaib sit for the police recruitment exam. But only Chandan clears it. The film portrays this scene symbolically. In this particular scene, Chandan gets his good news on the day of Eid while dining at Shoaib’s home.

But what awaits Chandan are document verification, medical checks, and endless procedural hurdles that follow the Result. Amidst all of this, Shoaib and Chandan drift apart, followed by a heated conversation.

The film shifts brilliantly from the claustrophobic tension of a prejudiced workplace to the vast, “merciless” emptiness of the Indian highway. The cinematography emphasises the physicality of the crisis—the routine of hunger, the weight of fatigue, and the blinding heat that turns a journey of hope into a tragedy of survival. 

While the world shrinks in fear, the film finds beauty in a “quiet grace,” using a simple pot of water to bridge the gap between strangers. The conclusion avoids melodrama, opting instead for a quiet, crushing revelation of stolen futures that lingers long after the credits roll. 

The last minutes of the film depict a reality that is much more meaningful. In his own way, Chandan did make a difference. His house now had a solid roof, and his mother had a shoe for her cracked heels that he had bought with his own money. The film ends with Shoaib receiving Chandan’s long-awaited appointment letter.