When the Indian filmmaker Mahesh Menon brought his moving short A Letter for Tomorrow to this year’s BFI Flare: London LGBTQIA+ Film Festival, I was truly taken aback by how wonderful the film was. Drawing from his own upbringing in a matriarchal household, Menon explores the complexity within families – particularly how love is often expressed through actions rather than words. The film delicately captures the space where care and misunderstanding overlap, revealing how people can feel connected and unseen.
The film portrays three generations of women, each shaping her own sense of identity and expectation. Menon, working with writer Aalisha Sheth, builds these characters with sensitivity, allowing their differences to emerge while also emphasising what binds them together. By giving equal attention to Vidya as well as her mother, Meera, the film offers a balanced and compassionate look at how personal growth can ripple through a family.
While this reflects Menon’s move into filmmaking, he is no stranger to visual storytelling, having previously worked extensively in television production. That background shows in the film’s confident, intimate style and careful pacing. We spoke to Menon shortly after the BFI Flare: London LGBTQIA+ Film Festival, where A Letter for Tomorrow connected with audiences beyond its Mumbai setting, proving that its themes of identity and the need to be seen are truly universal.
View of the Arts: A Letter for Tomorrow portrays a family where love clearly exists, yet understanding remains difficult. What interested you in exploring the tension between affection and expectation within this household?
Mahesh Menon: There is so much unspoken emotional labour that goes into holding a family together. Over time, that labour subconsciously shapes their expectations of how love is expressed and received. I’ve seen this dynamic up close through the women who raised me, where care was often shown through actions rather than words. I wanted to explore that quiet dissonance, where people can live closely, care for each other, and still feel unseen, and how silences and small, everyday interactions begin to carry the weight of what remains unspoken.
VOA: The film brings together three generations of women, each experiencing her own personal uncertainty. How did you approach writing these characters so that their struggles reflect both generational differences and shared emotional ground?
MM: I approached writing these characters by grounding them in their individual emotional realities, shaped by the time and circumstances they come from, and then finding common elements that connect them. Growing up in a matriarchal household, observing my mother and grandmother gave me an intuitive sense of how each generation relates differently to identity, duty, and self-expression. A lot of emotional depth came through our writer Aalisha Sheth, who, as we developed the story together, wrote a screenplay that felt deeply true to these women. I was also interested in what connects them beneath these differences: their shared experiences of loneliness, change, and the need to be seen. Even when they struggle to understand each other, these emotions surface in small, everyday moments, allowing both distance and intimacy to exist together.
VOA: Vidya’s identity is central to the story, yet the film is also concerned with the emotional journey of her mother. Why was it important for you to present both perspectives rather than focusing solely on Vidya’s experience?
MM: While Vidya’s identity is central to the story, it felt equally important to understand the emotional world of her mother, because these journeys don’t exist in isolation within a family. A moment of self-realisation for one person can also become a moment of uncertainty or loss for someone else. I was interested in exploring that emotion, how Vidya is moving toward a more honest version of herself, while her mother is simultaneously grappling with a shift in everything she has understood about family, identity, and her role within it. Presenting both perspectives allowed the story to hold empathy on both sides and to move beyond a single point of view into something more layered and human.
VOA: One of the film’s most powerful elements is the confrontation between Vidya and Meera. How did you approach directing that scene so that it conveyed conflict without reducing either character to a simple position of right or wrong?
MM: This was one of the most challenging scenes in the film, right from writing to executing, as it carries the weight of unpacking years of trauma and unspoken truths. That scene was always about holding space for both perspectives rather than resolving them. Neither Vidya nor Meera is entirely right or wrong, and the writing was able to capture that essence; they are both speaking from a place of emotional truth shaped by their own fears, histories, and limitations. In directing it, I wanted to differentiate it from the rest of the film both emotionally and visually, and chose to approach it as a one-take so it could mirror the continuity and intensity of their emotional outpouring in that moment. The idea was to let the conflict feel less like an argument to be won and more like two people struggling to be heard, allowing the audience to hold empathy for both rather than arriving at a clear judgment. The actors added a lot of spontaneity to the scene, and their movements and emotionality, coupled with the camerawork, brought about a rawness the scene demanded.
VOA: The home in the film becomes a space where different emotional realities collide. What role did the setting of the household play in shaping the story and its emotional atmosphere?
MM: The home was never just a backdrop; it was an active emotional space that shaped how these women relate to each other. Growing up in cramped houses in Mumbai helped me understand how space can define thoughts and relationships, and how one can find moments of peace even within a packed home. I was interested in how a shared space can hold multiple emotional realities at once, and how the house itself begins to influence the way the characters respond to each other, holding both intimacy and tension within it. This can be seen in the togetherness and isolation of the dinner scene, or Meera having to retreat to a washroom to speak to Sridhar, or the final confrontation, where the space of the house defines their movements, or the lack of it.
VOA: The cinematography creates a strong sense of intimacy with the characters. How closely did you collaborate with your cinematographer to develop the visual language of the film?
MM: From the beginning, the collaboration was extremely close and only evolved. Nirali, our DoP, is a frequent collaborator and a close friend, so there was already a strong sense of trust and shared intuition. We were clear early on that every frame needed to feel intentional, and that the camera should remain intimate and unobtrusive, almost like it was quietly observing the characters. Nirali was able to bring out the silence in her frames with a quiet elegance, and her sensitivity to stillness and composition added a depth that elevated the emotional texture of the film. One of the key decisions we made was to hold the camera still through most of the film and not introduce movement until the final scene, which was challenging given the emotional progression of the narrative. It required us to think carefully about framing and duration, allowing moments to sit and unfold, so that when the shift finally comes, it feels earned and emotionally resonant. I’m deeply grateful to her and the entire camera and lighting team for bringing such care and honesty to the film.
VOA: The film was screened at the BFI Flare: London LGBTQIA+ Film Festival. What does it mean for you to present this story to an international audience, and do you feel the themes of the film resonated beyond the specific cultural context of India?
MM: It means a great deal to the team and me to be officially selected at BFI Flare. It was always a festival we hoped to be part of because of its strong history of creating space for queer voices and alternative cinema. While the film is rooted in a very specific cultural and domestic setting based in Mumbai, India, the emotional experiences it explores, identity, family, love, and the need to be seen, feel universal to me. I’ve always believed that the more specific a story is, the more local it is, the more it can resonate across cultures, because it comes from a place of honesty. I’m curious to see how audiences from different backgrounds connect with these characters and what they take away from them and the relationships within the film.
Written and interviewed by Maggie Gogler
Featured image courtesy of Mahesh Menon
View of the Arts is an online publication dedicated to film, music, and the arts, with a strong focus on the Asian entertainment industry. As we continue to grow, we aim to deepen our coverage of Asian music while remaining committed to exploring and celebrating creativity across the global arts landscape.
