“Ezhuthola”: A Tender Tribute to Lost Classrooms and Living Traditions: Movie Review

By Aswathy Melethil (Movie Review)

Ezhuthola begins with a deceptively simple premise — an NRI couple returning to Kerala to conduct their child’s Ezhuthiniruthu, the traditional rite that marks a child’s formal initiation into the world of learning. Yet beneath this familiar cultural ritual, the film gradually unfolds into a reflective exploration of memory, loss, and the quiet erosion of heritage.

In contemporary practice, Vidyarambham is often reduced to symbolic gestures — tracing letters on rice, sand, or even on a child’s tongue with a gold ring. However, the film reaches further back into history, reviving the nearly forgotten tradition of the ezhuthola — the palm leaf that once served as the first medium of writing, embodying a more intimate and disciplined beginning to education.

Director Suresh Unnikrishnan, making his debut, approaches this subject with an evident sense of reverence. Drawing from Kerala’s past, he reconstructs the world of Kudipallikkoodam schools — small, community-rooted centers of learning that predated formalized education systems. These schools were typically run by an Aashan and his wife, Aasathy, figures who were not merely teachers but custodians of knowledge, culture, and values. Through them, children were gently ushered into literacy and life itself.

The narrative gains emotional depth through the character of Nandan, whose return to Kerala is not merely ritualistic but deeply personal. His wife questions the need for such a journey when similar ceremonies can easily be arranged abroad through diaspora communities. But for Nandan, this is not about convenience — it is about continuity. Having been initiated into learning by an Aashan and Aasathy in his childhood, he longs for his son to inherit that same grounding.

This desire, however, meets an unexpected rupture. Nandan soon learns that his beloved teachers are no more. What follows is not just a search for closure, but a journey into the past — an attempt to piece together the life and legacy of Aasathy, whose story becomes the emotional backbone of the film.

Through her son Ravi, Nandan uncovers the painful truth of Aasathy’s final years. Once a humble teacher conducting classes on a church veranda, she was eventually forced out when the space was repurposed for a self-financing private institution. Her displacement — quiet yet devastating — symbolizes a broader shift in society, where traditional systems of learning are gradually pushed aside by commercialization and institutional expansion. Her death, following this upheaval, lingers as one of the film’s most poignant and unsettling moments.

The second half of Ezhuthola widens its lens, examining the transformation of Kerala’s educational landscape. It reflects on how modernization, while inevitable, has often come at the cost of marginalizing educators like Aashan and Aasathy. The film also touches upon the changing dynamics within religious institutions, suggesting a shift from community-centered values to profit-driven priorities.

In an effort to reclaim what has been lost, Nandan channels his grief into action. As a tribute to his teachers, he takes steps to revive a struggling government school, symbolically restoring a space for the kind of education they once represented. The film culminates in a collaborative effort — Nandan, Ravi, and the local community coming together to rebuild not just a school, but a legacy.

Veteran actor Shankar, who also produces the film, appears in a brief cameo as an education minister, adding a touch of familiarity without overshadowing the narrative.

Visually, the film is anchored by the work of cinematographer Sreejith Pacheni, whose lens captures Kerala in all its lush, unhurried beauty. The verdant landscapes and quiet village moments reinforce the film’s nostalgic tone, often speaking where words fall short.

The performances lend credibility to the film’s emotional core, particularly Nisha Sarangh as Aasathy, whose portrayal is marked by restraint and quiet strength, and Hemanth Menon as Nandan, who carries the narrative with sincerity.

The film’s music, composed by Mohan Sithara and Prasanth Karma, complements its reflective mood, while the lyrics by Bilu Padmini Narayanan add a poetic layer to its storytelling.

Ultimately, Ezhuthola is less about the ritual it begins with and more about what that ritual represents—a connection to roots, to memory, and to a form of learning that valued human relationships over institutional structures. It is a film that gently mourns what has been lost, even as it attempts to imagine a way forward.

Ezhuthola Movie Is Now Streaming on Manorama Max