Premam

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Back in 2015, when I was studying in 8th standard, a movie called Premam was released. It became more than just a film—it became a phenomenon in Kerala. Everywhere I looked, people were talking about it. The songs were everywhere, the hairstyle became a trend, the dialogues were repeated by everyone, and Nivin Pauly became the face of youth culture.

Everyone loved the movie.

Except me.

I watched it back then and honestly felt bored. I couldn’t understand why people were going crazy over it. To me, it was just a simple story—love, breakup, another love, another breakup, and finally a happy ending. I felt the hype was unnecessary.

But now, in 2026, ten years later, I watched Premam again.

And this time, it hit me deeply.

The movie had not changed. I had.

When I first watched it, I was too young to understand what the film was really saying. At that age, I only saw the plot. I watched with eyes, not with experience. I knew nothing about heartbreak, emotional growth, losing people, or how life slowly changes us through pain.

But over the last ten years, life happened.

I grew older. I went through college life. I experienced love. I experienced disappointment. I went through a painful relationship phase that changed me emotionally. And because of that, when I watched the movie again, I was no longer watching as a boy. I was watching as someone who had lived a little.

That is when I understood George David.

Earlier, I thought George was simply moving from one girl to another. But now I understood that each phase of love in his life represented a stage of growth.

Mary was his innocent phase—the age of crushes, fantasies, and immature emotions.

Malar was his intense phase—the kind of love that transforms you, shakes your world, and leaves pain when lost.

Celine was his mature phase—where love becomes calmer, steadier, and wiser.

George was not chasing romance.

He was growing through life.

That realization stayed with me.

Sometimes heartbreak completely breaks us. It destroys the version of ourselves we once knew. But in that destruction, something new is built. Pain has a strange way of maturing people. Some people enter our lives not to stay forever, but to shape who we become.

That is what I saw in George.

That is what I saw in myself.

Ten years ago, I judged the movie because I lacked the emotional vocabulary to understand it. Today, after life taught me certain lessons, I finally connected with its soul.

Some movies are not meant to be understood at one stage of life. They wait for us to grow.

Premam was one of those movies for me.

Ten years ago, I watched it as a child.

Ten years later, I watched it as someone life had already taught.

Maybe that is why this time, I found myself inside the film.








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