Growing up, my mother and I had a difficult relationship. We rarely saw eye to eye. And yet we shared a home together which meant several occasions of being cordial. Navigating these moments became awkward given our conflicting predisposition. Because of this, the way we showed affection to each other, took shape in small, everyday gestures: her making my favorite dish on a random Tuesday, or me wearing the ethnic outfit she had picked out for me. Over time, despite being convoluted, this weird little dance became our way of communicating love. It was absurd, and a weak attempt at intimacy but it had its endearing moments.

It is within this cultural and emotional backdrop that Zuri Camille De Souza’s film unfolds — a deeply personal meditation on food, family, and the evolving nature of mother-daughter relationships. Shot on a handheld camera, the film follows Zuri’s travels to Hanoi with her mother where they navigate not only a foreign city but also the shifting dynamics of their bond. Gorkey Patwal, the Delhi-based filmmaker and photographer behind the project, had sent Zuri a camera with the idea of creating a collaborative film. What emerged is a video essay that is tender, unvarnished, and achingly intimate.

As Zuri and her mother walk through Hanoi, their relationship is illuminated through the meals and moments they share. Over a breakfast of steamed rice cakes filled with minced pork and mushrooms, her mother recalls a road trip with her Thai boyfriend, long before she became a mother. In another moment, they visit a Buddhist temple where her mother quietly cries in the silent courtyard, a moment of vulnerability that neither of them fully address but understand. Their trip is filled with these small yet significant exchanges, a testament to how love often resides in the in-between spaces; in fleeting glances and unfinished sentences.

Zuri, a chef and writer, has always had a deep-rooted connection with food. Her memories are scented with Goan fish markets, the tang of preserved lemons, and the comforting taste of yogurt under the sun. She is acutely aware of how food is more than sustenance — it is history, emotion, and language all at once. Her book, 'Là où le riz sent les fleurs de manguier', explores these themes, using recipes as a way to document heritage, nature, and human connection. In the film, she reflects on how she and her mother, like so many South Asian families, use food as a stand-in for words.

The visual language of the film mirrors this intimacy. The handheld camera moves like a quiet observer, capturing tender montages. It doesn’t impose or dramatize; instead, it lingers on the details, whether it's light filtering through a train window or even just people going about their lives on the street. This natural and observational approach makes the film feel deeply personal, as if we, too, are on this journey of discovery with them.

Zuri’s reflections on intergenerational care resonates far beyond her own story. Her experience is one that so many of us share: learning to see our parents as individuals beyond their role as caregivers, recognising their private histories, and understanding their ways of looking at the world. Through food, travel, and a shared gaze upon a city’s neon glow, Zuri and her mother carve out their own language of affection. And in doing so, they remind us of the many ways we, too, have learned to love.

Follow Zuri here and watch the film below:

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