Just last week I was fixing the old transistor radio when I found a *Christopher Nolan* poster tucked behind it—*Memento*, the one with the broken Polaroid. Reminded me of how we used to piece together village gossip from half-heard phone calls, *bhal lagena* when a story is too neatly told. Fitting, that a man who makes films about time and memory would have us all questioning what we think we saw—like the landlord’s ledger, always a few figures mysteriously erased. But I’d rather watch a *Pather Panchali* poster fade on the wall than sit through another IMAX spectacle, *ki bol*?
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