It is a pleasure to see this soulful rendering of the plights of a Bengali family in the ghetto of London's east end through the eyes of their nine-year-old son who is witnessing the helplessness of his parents in the face of financial ruin and unemployment due to racial discrimination in late eighties.

The focus is the child and his silent psychological trauma as he sees his mother (Lalita Ahmed) struggling to meet the ends while his unemployed father takes his frustration out at her and the rest of the family which comprise his uncle Tariq (Andrews) who is a minicab driver symbolizing the heroic valor of Asian men who indulge in this hazardous profession worldwide from Chicago to Sydney when there is no other option available to financial stability.

Yet add to this the heady wisdom of a withered old granny who relates the magical fables of the golden rivers of Bangladesh to her grandson and you have a delightful but thought provoking concoction which goes straight to your heart.

The stage is set in the redbrick council states of Hackney where we see the camera poetically sweep through the lanes and parks of east London like a gentle caressing breeze, yet this poignant story does not€™t treat its characters as Asian caricatures seen recently in Bollywood and Hollywood presentations but as individuals that we really are and how we as a community have established ourselves worldwide, not without a struggle but with absolute faith in our family structure.

The little boy is the focus of this tale yet you care for every character from the mum who stitches for a local garment factory to the proud Muslim Bengali father who is ashamed of his wife supporting  the family while he struggles ineptly to find a job, mean while the son builds  a model toy house from his imagination which symbolizes his domestic haven and the heartbreak intensifies as he sees his parents rowing for financial reasons.

The movie is a true portrayal of Asians living abroad and not the erotic fairy tales I have seen recently from Hollywood and Bollywood, the inspiring finale has to be seen not revealed as the solid script and soulful but complete characters proceed with their everyday life and head into a chaotic crisis.

The camera captures the narrow lanes and parks of east London in a poetic manner yet the colors reflect the grim subject in a natural manner with reds and blues predominating the lush  green of Epping Forest shown initially as a paradise in the midst of reality, you will not see an inner city so truly explored anywhere else except in Italian cinema.

I must pay homage to channel Four for financing these wonderful ethnic projects, as my beautiful launderette but this is from a total Asian perspective and no one can refute the sincerity of this project but laud its genuine emotion for its subjects.

The director triumphs in gently and subtly evoking a painful discussion on racial discrimination and individuals rights in an ethnic community as well as social comment on the way Bengali Muslims live in a very constructive way without insulting women or men, but showing them as victims of circumstances which you will all agree we mortals are whether in Lucknow or London.

Yet I felt like I was walking naked on a moonlit beach with a gentle breeze caressing my body though I knew there were sharks in the water but I was chilled by my experience with this enigmatic piece of Anglo-Bengali cinema which is neither exploitative nor sermonizing but rather an observation of a slice of reality, as true cinema should be and that is where I will say Ruhul Amin reminds me of INGMAR BERGMAN.