Danesi has pointed out that all the food habits we carry as cultural members are constructed. The essential part is the inculcation of these rituals. According to Danesi, the traditions are so important to a culture that a person unfamiliar with the practices can even be subjected to “censure and disapprobation” (201). We see something similar when Sumon visits Nirmali’s house at an event and finds himself isolated from other men at the party. The loudest of them, Nirmali’s husband, states how people eat strange things and meats. The noticeable part is that he is an epidemiologist and has to move around isolated corners to “save” people. Dilip’s narrow understanding of the food culture of the places he visits explains how we, as urban-modern humans, consider only certain things to be expected. Sumon’s half-drunken answer to this makes Dilip rather uncomfortable. Sumon describes how the definition of normal is not universal at all. When Dilip calls them strange, if not abnormal, Sumon again states that “strange” is not enough.

Throughout the movie, we observe Sumon eating things that are unheard of in Guwahati and mainland India as well. From mentioning deer, elephant and monkey meat to eating bat and rabbit within the frames. And most importantly, we have Sumon’s flesh. The idea is as wild as it sounds, but somehow Hazarika makes it as beautiful as any luxury chef TV series. But cannibalism itself is an exciting concept. Claude Levi-Strauss, the famous anthropologist and structuralist, writes in his essay “We Are All Cannibals”:

Cannibalism in itself has no objective reality. It is an ethnocentric category: it exists only in the eyes of the societies that proscribe it. All flesh, whatever its provenance, is a cannibal food in Buddhism, which believes in the unity of life. (88)

Strauss’ analysis of cannibalism finds its roots in “civilised” societies like Europe. Thus, the idea of cannibalism is outlandish when one belongs to a culture where it does not exist at all. However, it gets multiple meanings when presented in a film. As Literature is considered a mirror of reality, we need to acknowledge the mirror part of it. Aamis does not condone cannibalism when shown on a screen but does a social commentary through it. Every dish Sumon presents to Nirmali is accompanied by classical music, with a deliberate ASMR trope. For Alicia Jacob and Dr Dishari Chattaraj (assistant professor), research scholars from Christ (deemed to be University), every dish is psychosexually motivated. For example, according to the authors, the first egg dish where Sumon’s flesh replaces the yolk translates to a sexual union as the egg represents the ovaries (6).

It is not unheard of for visual imagery to be beautiful but to make such an unconventional topic, dare I say, tasty, demands talent. Yet still, I want to focus on the human part of it. What does Sumon become or transcend when portrayed as a “food product”? Carson and colleagues write:

Despite their variations, cannibal films reflect the fact that food consumption in consumer society is fraught with uncertainties; people do not know what they are eating; they do not know where their food comes from or where their disposed food will go. The films capture and hold audience attention because their shared focus on humans as the food product implicates all the other foodways elements. (131-32).

Sumon’s characters or his obsession for Nirmali is just exaggerated with the depiction of cannibalism. As an audience of Aamis, I know how intricately the movie captures that attention. No detail is hidden from the audience, and the small pieces of human flesh glisten in the beaker.