In the sun-dappled village of Vadasan, nestled in the rustic heart of Mehsana, Gujarat, the air hums with the cadence of Mehsani Gujarati—a dialect as earthy as the soil it springs from. Here, where dusty lanes weave through fields of cotton and cumin, life unfolds in cycles: seasons of sowing and reaping, stories told and retold under banyan trees. It’s in this timeless rhythm that Kundaalu, a groundbreaking Gujarati film set to release on November 7, 2025, finds its soul.
Directed by Rohit Prajapati and brought to life by 3 Peepul Productions, Kundaalu is more than a movie—it’s a love letter to a dialect, a culture, and the resilience of three women who dared to dream big.The Village and the VisionThe story begins with Jaga Kaka, or Jagaji, a weathered yet spirited elder played with haunting depth by Vaibhav Biniwale. In Vadasan, Jagaji is a fixture, his voice carrying the weight of folklore and the warmth of a grandfather’s tales. One evening, as children draw circles in the sand during a game of gotis (marbles), Jagaji spins a metaphor: “રમતા રમતા રેતીમાં લખોટી કે ગોટી, દોર્યા લાખ કુંડાળા…” Circles drawn in play, he muses, mirror the loops of life—each one fleeting, yet heavy with meaning.
His words linger as the village prepares for its annual fair, a celebration of community, but also a stage for unspoken tensions.At the heart of the tale is Leela, a young woman whose dreams of studying in the city clash with the expectations of her traditional family. Her father, a stern farmer named Kanji, believes a woman’s place is in the home, while her mother, Savita, quietly nurtures Leela’s ambitions. When a traveling theater troupe arrives, led by the charismatic but troubled Dev, Leela finds a spark of inspiration.
The troupe’s performances, steeped in Mehsani rhythms and poetic dialogue, awaken her to the power of her own voice. But as love, duty, and destiny collide, Leela must confront the ultimate question: can she break free from the circles drawn around her, or are they fated to close?The film’s backdrop is Vadasan itself, captured in vivid detail—mud-plastered homes glowing under twilight, the clink of chai glasses at roadside stalls, and the laughter of children echoing across fields.
The Mehsani dialect, with its rolling cadence and raw expressiveness, isn’t just dialogue; it’s a character. From Jagaji’s philosophical musings to Leela’s fiery outbursts, every word feels like it was born in the village’s soil, unpolished and true. Kundaalu weaves these elements into a narrative that’s both intimate and universal, asking what it means to live, love, and leave a mark before the sands of time erase it all.
The Women Behind the Circles
In a cramped Vadodara apartment in August 2020, as the world grappled with the COVID-19 lockdown, Neena Arora and Suchitra Parikh sat across from a young filmmaker named Rohit Prajapati. His pitch was simple: a short film about life’s cycles, told through the lens of Mehsana’s villages. Neena, an entrepreneur with a passion for art, and Suchitra, an HR professional with a poet’s heart, were captivated. “We didn’t know we were signing up to be producers,” Neena would later laugh, her eyes crinkling at the memory. “We just wanted to see this story come alive.
”By October, as lockdowns eased, they stood in a Mehsana field, watching cameras roll for the first time. The shoot was chaotic—unpredictable weather, a tight budget, and a skeletal crew—but the energy was electric. When Priya Krishnaswamy, a painter and writer from Austin, joined the duo, the vision expanded. What was meant to be a 20-minute short grew into a feature film, its scope swelling with every rewrite.
“We saw something bigger in those circles,” Priya recalls, her voice soft but resolute. “Not just a story, but a legacy.”Together, Neena, Priya, and Suchitra formed 3 Peepul Productions, named for the Peepul tree—symbol of endurance and shelter. Each brought something unique: Neena’s creative spark, honed through her work at Splatter Studio; Priya’s global lens, shaped by years bridging cultures; and Suchitra’s commitment to stories that matter, rooted in her activism. As women in an industry often dominated by men, they faced skepticism. “People asked, ‘Why film? Why Mehsani? Why you?’” Suchitra says. “We answered with Kundaalu.”Their journey wasn’t without hurdles. Budgets stretched thin, schedules clashed across continents, and the weight of being “accidental producers” tested their resolve. Yet, their shared passion for authentic storytelling held them together. They pored over scripts late into the night, scouted locations in Mehsana’s villages, and rallied a cast that breathed life into the dialect. Vaibhav Biniwale’s portrayal of Jagaji became a cornerstone, his every line a nod to the Mehsani spirit they sought to preserve.
A Legacy in the Sand
As Kundaalu nears its release, anticipation hums not just in Gujarat but across India’s regional cinema circles. The film’s teaser, with its haunting verses and glimpses of rural life, has sparked buzz on platforms like X, where users praise its authenticity: “Finally, a film that sounds like my grandmother’s stories,” one post reads. Another calls it “a love letter to Mehsana’s soul.” For Neena, Priya, and Suchitra, the response is humbling. “We didn’t set out to make history,” Neena says. “We just wanted to tell a story that felt true.”Kundaalu is more than a film; it’s a testament to what happens when passion meets purpose. It’s the sound of Mehsani Gujarati echoing through theaters, the sight of a village’s heart laid bare, and the story of three women who turned an accidental detour into a cinematic triumph. As Jagaji’s voice reminds us, life’s circles may fade in the sand, but the stories we tell—and the courage it takes to tell them—endure.
On November 7, 2025, as audiences step into theaters, they’ll step into Vadasan’s world, where every loop drawn in the sand is a question, a dream, a life. And behind it all, Neena, Priya, and Suchitra will be watching, their own circle complete—for now.
