Previously on Indian Summers: Ralph promoted Aafrin as a sort of thank you for taking that bullet. In return, Aafrin gave false testimony that the shooter called Ralph a white devil before pulling the trigger. He then stole the only hard evidence they had against the shooter, for some reason. Sarah started looking into Alice’s background, and Cynthia just got weird about Ian’s uncle’s heart attack, blaming the whole thing on Sood.
A filthy, ragged woman wearing the same bracelet Adam sports washes her face in a pool in the woods, then looks up at the trees.
Adam suddenly wakes from a nightmare.
Continue reading “Indian Summers: Something You Want to Tell Me?”
Previously on Indian Summers: Alice fled her cheating husband to join her brother, Ralph, in India. Ralph, meanwhile, is being set up with heiress Madeline and toying with one of his clerks, Aafrin, who winds up taking a bullet for him. Aafrin’s sister is joining the nascent Indian independence movement, and Sarah, the creepy wife of a missionary who’s in love with a native woman, is desperately trying to become BFF’s with Alice.
I didn’t mention this last week, but cool opening credits. Thumbs up on that one.
Another lazy day in Simla. Natives, again, carry some heavy burden through the streets, destined for Ralph’s house.
A native man in a suit arrives at the viceregal offices.
Continue reading “Indian Summers: Foot, Meet Mouth”
Ready to watch some rich Brits sip cocktails and melt in the heat while millions of native people try to wrest control of their country back? Ok, let’s give Indian Summers a go.
It’s March 1932, and the British civil servants are heading to the summer capital, Simla, at the foot of the Himalayas because every other city turned into a horrible steaming pool that they just couldn’t handle.
A young Indian boy walks along the road, being pelted with things by other kids. Adults stand and stare at him as he passes. Nobody helps him. He walks and walks, stopping only when he sees the bizarre sight of a rocking horse being carried up high, over the leaves the of the plants along the road to Simla. The camera pulls back and we see that the rocking horse is part of a massive caravan of Indians walking to Simla.
Continue reading “Indian Summers: Red Handed”