8 Vasanthaalu
It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and I woke up around 7 AM to play some Badminton. After getting back home, I felt like watching a movie—but had absolutely no clue what to pick.
The title “8 Vasanthalu” caught my eye on BookMyShow, and I was instantly thrilled to see it was a film by Phanindra Narsetti—a writer whose work I’ve admired since my college days.
The first time I heard the name Phanindra Narsetti was through Tammareddy Bharadwaj Garu. He had posted a video, narrating a so-called poem of Sri Sri. It was later clarified to be the work of a Telugu writer named Lalit. Over time, that piece was widely attributed to Sri Sri across Facebook groups and pages. Interestingly, in an interview, Lalit mentioned that the last two lines weren’t even his—some Facebook admins had added two lines from Phanindra’s writing to wrap it all up beautifully. Refer to his clarification here
I’ve always admired Phanindra’s writing. His film Madhuram also left a mark on me. So without a second thought, I went to the theatre to watch 8 Vasanthalu. As the movie unfolded, I felt something I didn’t expect: this wasn’t just a story—it felt like my own life on screen. I found myself completely resonating with the character Shuddhi Ayodhya.
What struck me was the lens Phanindra brought into the film. Every character had life and weight. In many films, characters are written to suit people; here, it felt like the characters already existed, and people were carefully chosen to become them. It reminded me of C/o Kancharapalem and Ee Nagaraniki Emaindi—films that don’t just entertain but quietly stay with you.
I was genuinely emotional for quite a while inside the theatre. This was one of those rare films I couldn’t even imagine watching on a phone or OTT platform. It deserved the big screen. Every scene had a purpose. Nothing dragged. And the dialogues? They weren’t just well-written—they were real. They hit home.
Big thanks to Phanindra Narsetti for crafting something so heartfelt.
With 8 Vasanthalu, nothing felt too complex. And even if some lines did stretch a bit, that’s the beauty—you either take them in or dive deeper to feel them. Let’s not rip apart a director’s soul just to simplify everything. Felt like sharing this here: Janam Matlade Matale Mem Matladithe, Mem Pandithulamenti - Aarudhra
Why should artists stick to plain words when they can choose ones that resonate? Words that elevate emotion?