Ghich Pich

We in India are deprived genuine, mid-budget, personal stories which are made with a lot of heart. Udaan, Aankhon Dekhi, Monsoon Wedding are some examples. Ghich Pich joins this list - even if at the bottom, it still joins it - which is a commendable feat as debut film.

The writing feels real, everyday - this is how people talk in Chandigarh. There is no dialog-baazi but some lines touch one's heart.

The acting is what stands out - you feel for the 3 young protagonists - the lack of control over the lives that every 17 year old feels.

May a lot of people watch this film and somewhere resolve their daddy issues!

I went in to watch Ghich Pich completely unbeknownst to what the movie entails. But in every aspect, it surpassed any expectation I could have had from the film.

The atmosphere it created, the messages it generated and the performances it delivered will bring you to tears more than once, but also make your heart feel full in a way that very few pieces of visual art ever would have.

Every character and every scene are thought out in the most intricate and detailed manner, that add so much flavour to the usually underrepresented but awfully beautifully locations of Chandigarh.

Not once during the run time will you be brought to think that this was the debut work of any of the main actors or the director; they all carried their performances through the to the moon (and perhaps never back).

Very very special mention for the story lines that create beautiful magic while being intertwined seamlessly. And a big shoutout to Aryan (who plays Anurag), who portrays his complex and layered character with utmost poise and unforgettable talent.

To anyone who watches this movie, you will leave feeling various feelings, but you will always feel richer because of the experience of it.

There's something really special about Ghich Pich-the kind of special that doesn't announce itself with big, dramatic moments or sweeping monologues. It's the kind that sneaks in through the cracks, quietly nestling itself into your heart before you even realize it. From the very first scene, the film invites you into the rhythms of everyday life in Chandigarh's middle-class neighborhoods, where people are just trying to get through the day-balancing work, family, expectations, and their own private battles-with quiet resilience.

What makes Ghich Pich stand out is how unpolished and honest it feels. It's not a film trying to be clever or flashy. It's not begging for your tears or applause. It just is. And that simplicity becomes its biggest strength. It shows life as it's lived-not as a spectacle, but as a series of moments, interactions, and relationships that shape who we are in quiet, lasting ways.

One of the most affecting parts of the film is how naturally it explores the complexities of father-son relationships. These dynamics aren't spelled out through exposition or long speeches. Instead, the film captures them in the smallest of gestures-a silence that says more than words ever could, a look of hesitation, a moment of vulnerability quickly masked. Each of the three father-son arcs offers a different perspective, and all of them feel deeply personal.

There's the son being constantly pushed by a well-meaning but overbearing father-a dynamic many of us will instantly recognize. Then there's the story of a boy struggling with his identity, walking on eggshells around a father who simply doesn't understand who he really is. And finally, perhaps the most quietly emotional of them all, is a storyline about a son discovering something hidden about his father-a truth that forces him to see the man in a completely new light. None of these stories are loud or over-explained. They're just... human. And in that simplicity lies their power.

Equally memorable is the friendship between the three boys-Gaurav, Gurpreet, and Anurag. Their bond is chaotic, hilarious, and beautifully real. Watching them goof around, argue, and have each other's backs reminded me of my own teenage years, where friendships were messy and loud but also deeply grounding. The kind where you might not always say the right thing, but you show up anyway. Their dynamic brought a warmth and energy to the film that felt incredibly familiar, like looking back at an old photo and remembering exactly how it felt to be there.

But what truly lingers after watching Ghich Pich is the honesty it brings to every scene. It doesn't sensationalize or sugarcoat. There are no massive twists or overly dramatic reveals. Instead, the film trusts its audience to sit with the quiet beauty of ordinary life-the arguments that aren't resolved, the silences that carry weight, and the moments of connection that are easy to miss unless you're really paying attention.

Director Ankur Singla handles the material with restraint and care. The film doesn't rush to explain itself. It moves at its own pace, allowing the characters to simply exist and evolve. The performances are subtle and grounded, with each actor bringing a quiet authenticity to their role. It's the kind of film where you forget you're watching actors and just feel like you're spending time with real people.

If you're someone who loves films that reflect life in all its imperfect beauty-without overdoing it-Ghich Pich is absolutely worth your time. It's not about spectacle. It's about connection. And that's what makes it unforgettable.

Okay, so I finally watched Ghich Pich last weekend after my roommate wouldn't stop going on about it-and not gonna lie, it kind of wrecked me. Not in a depressing, cry-for-hours kind of way, but in that sneaky, slow-burn way where you're laughing one moment, then suddenly finding yourself lowkey emotional and thinking about your own life. It's rare for a film to hit that balance, but this one really pulls it off.

Set in Chandigarh, Ghich Pich somehow managed to teleport me straight back to my high school days. There's this beautiful chaos in the way it captures teenage friendships-loud, reckless, sometimes stupid, but so full of heart. You know those friendships where you do the dumbest stuff together, and somehow it feels like the most important thing in the world? That's what Ghich Pich nails. I found myself texting my high school group chat halfway through like, "Guys, this is literally us."

The trio at the heart of the film-Gaurav, Gurpreet, and Anurag-aren't perfect. They're impulsive, dramatic, kind of annoying at times-but they're real. Their dynamic feels authentic, not scripted, and that's what makes it hit so hard. You laugh with them, cringe with them, and end up feeling weirdly protective of them. The film doesn't glamorize youth; it just shows it as it is-messy, exciting, and occasionally heartbreaking.

But what really got me were the father-son dynamics. Each one brought something different to the table and left me with a lump in my throat I wasn't prepared for. There's the classic overbearing dad who thinks love means constant pressure-basically every third Indian dad ever. Then there's the son struggling with his identity while his father remains blissfully unaware, and it's handled with such quiet sensitivity. And finally, the storyline where the son discovers a deeply personal secret about his dad-yeah, that one hit like a truck. Each relationship is layered, never overly dramatized, but always emotionally charged.

What impressed me most was how the film balances all this emotional depth with moments of levity. One minute you're cracking up at some dumb teenage antic, and the next you're staring at the screen like, "Wait, why am I feeling things right now?" That's the magic of Ghich Pich. It never feels like it's trying too hard. It's not preachy or overly sentimental-it just tells a story that feels real.

The setting of Chandigarh plays a huge role, too. The film doesn't shy away from showing the ordinary-middle-class homes, cramped scooters, school corridors, casual conversations over chai. And yet, in all of that ordinariness, there's something deeply cinematic. The details are so grounded that even if you've never been to Chandigarh, you feel like you've lived there. It's a very specific world, and yet somehow, it feels universal.

As someone who usually watches movies to escape, this one pulled me in with its honesty. It reminded me of real people, real moments, and those little emotional gut punches that come from the simplest interactions. The kind of film that doesn't leave you with all the answers, but lingers with you for days afterward.

Would I recommend it? Absolutely. Especially if you're in the mood for something that's actually about something, without being overly deep or artsy. Ghich Pich is funny, heartfelt, nostalgic, and painfully relatable. Solid 10/10. I'll definitely be rewatching it while procrastinating on finals-and maybe texting my dad a little more often, too.

At its core, Ghich Pich is a tender, thoughtfully crafted film that explores the intricate web of relationships in a way that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. Set against the textured backdrop of Chandigarh's middle-class milieu, the film resists the temptation of spectacle or melodrama. Instead, it leans into subtlety, drawing strength from the authenticity of its place, its characters, and the emotions that quietly pulse beneath the surface.

What makes Ghich Pich immediately stand out is its careful attention to detail. The everyday realities of life-small homes filled with unspoken tensions, friends meeting in street-side cafés, family dinners that teeter between routine and revelation-are portrayed with such honesty that you forget you're watching fiction. There's no attempt to over-stylize or heighten the drama. The film lets life unfold as it often does: unpredictably, imperfectly, and sometimes with aching beauty.

The dynamic between the three central friends-Gaurav, Gurpreet, and Anurag-is electric in the most grounded way possible. Their friendship is refreshingly unforced, capturing the essence of youthful camaraderie without slipping into clichés or forced nostalgia. The film celebrates their reckless joy, their inside jokes, petty conflicts, and deep, unspoken loyalty with an observational eye that at times feels almost documentary-like in its realism. It reminds you of your own teenage years-the chaos, the laughter, the friendships that felt like the center of your universe.

Yet, where Ghich Pich truly finds its emotional core is in its nuanced portrayal of father-son relationships. These arcs are distinct and delicately written, each laced with emotional truth. One story explores the tension between expectation and individuality; another delves into hidden identities and quiet courage; and the third uncovers long-buried truths that reshape how a son sees his father. The film never sensationalizes these stories. Instead, it leans into the silence, the miscommunications, the hesitant gestures-those small moments that speak volumes about love, regret, pride, and fear.

Director Ankur Singla deserves immense credit for his restraint and emotional clarity. He allows the narrative to breathe, trusting the audience to find meaning in the small exchanges and moments that often go unnoticed in louder films. The screenplay is skillfully balanced, blending humor and heartbreak, often within the same scene. There's no heavy-handed messaging or melodramatic resolution-just the quiet, sometimes painful, always human unfolding of life.

The performances are uniformly strong across the board. Each actor brings a lived-in authenticity to their role, resisting the urge to dramatize emotional beats. Instead, their performances feel internal, simmering just below the surface, which makes the eventual emotional payoffs all the more powerful. You don't just watch their stories-you feel them.

Visually, the film complements its narrative with understated yet evocative cinematography. The camera lingers where it needs to-on a nervous glance, a cluttered kitchen, an unsent text. The production design and color palette mirror the modesty and warmth of Chandigarh life, rooting the film deeply in its setting and enhancing its emotional realism.

Ghich Pich is a rare gem-poignant without being preachy, sentimental without being saccharine. It doesn't try to "teach" you anything or deliver some grand philosophical message. Instead, it gently nudges you to look closer at your own relationships-at the silences, the misunderstandings, the quiet acts of love that often go unnoticed.

In a world where stories are often told in extremes, Ghich Pich is a quiet, steady voice reminding us that life's most meaningful moments are often the ones we almost miss. A quietly powerful achievement in storytelling, and one that stays with you long after the credits roll.