The forensic pathologist Dr Nariman, a principled and virtuous man, has an accident with a motorcyclist and his family, and injures his 8-year-old son. He pays compensation to the man and offers to take the child to a clinic nearby. The next morning, he finds out that the same little boy has been brought in for an autopsy. Dr Nariman faces a dilemma now: is he responsible for the child’s death due to the accident or did he die of food poisoning according to other doctors’ diagnoses?
I read a quote from Rolf Dobelli somewhere, “Those who were bold and brave were killed before they could transfer their genes to the next generations. The rest, that is the coward and the considerate, survived. We are their progeny.” We have made weird images of the cowards in our mind, but they are in fact exactly like us. Perhaps they are even the reprint of our behavior; the cruel behavior that we have justified in the name of wisdom. How many times so far our fear and inability to express the simple truth has triggered a big calamity in others’ life? I don’t know what I would do if I was in place of the protagonist doctor, but I remember vividly much simpler moments when I lost my fears and doubts wisely. This film might be an elegy on the grave of a man once I dreamt to be.