Mahdi Ahmed

This morning, the official poster for Kanbulo was released.
And if it made your heart skip a beat — good.
It’s meant to.

A girl. A newborn.
Blood-soaked hands.
Eyes wide open — not with fear… but with something worse: disbelief.
And yet, she’s still standing.

The girl on this poster — portrayed heartbreakingly by Mariyam Azza — came to me first through the pages of Yuktha, the 2006 National Award-winning novel inspired by true events.
I remember the moment I finished reading it: I was frozen. Gasping. Shattered.
And I knew — without a doubt — that she would never leave me until her voice reached the screen.

The poster doesn’t sell a fantasy. It doesn’t glamorize. It doesn’t comfort.
It unsettles.
Because Kanbulo isn’t here to entertain.
She’s here to speak — for those who never could.

Writing Kanbulo wasn’t like any other screenplay.
It tore something out of me.
There were days I sat blank, unable to type a word.
And nights when writing just a single scene left me emotionally gutted.
But I kept going.
Because silence was never an option — not for her.

We renamed the film Kanbulo — a name spoken with affection, like “sweetie” or “darling.”
But don’t be fooled by its softness.
This film bites. It bleeds. It fights back.
It confronts the quiet violence so many women endure — behind closed doors, beneath polite conversations, under the weight of shame that isn’t theirs to carry.

The official poster, brilliantly designed by Abdulla Muaz, captures that very roar—unflinching, visceral, and impossible to look away from.

This isn’t fiction.
It’s a mirror.
One many will want to look away from.
But I hope you won’t.

I’m proud to be reuniting with director Hussain Munavvaru for our fourth film together. After Kamanaa, this film takes a very different turn.
Kanbulo doesn’t flirt. It doesn’t seduce.
It screams.
And for once, we’re ready to listen.

Kan’bulo opens 31 August 2025.
And when it does — I hope it stirs something in you.
Not just pity. Not just rage.
But action.
Empathy.
Reflection.
And the courage to believe those who’ve been silenced for far too long.

Until then —
Hold your daughters.
Protect the vulnerable.
And when someone finally trusts you enough to speak…
Listen. Fully. Fiercely. Without turning away.