POV: When Thamma took me back to Twilight and the world that first made me believe in vampires!

A trip to the theatres for Maddock’s new horror comedy turned into a nostalgic revisit to Forks, Washington and to the story that once made me believe that fantasy could feel real!

The Twilight Saga was my first entry into a world that shimmered with the impossible, a place where immortality wasn’t just a fantasy but a feeling. It was the story that introduced me to vampires and werewolves, but also, in a strange way, to love, the kind that defied sense, safety, and time itself. When I recently watchedThamma, Maddock Films’ latest entry into their horror-comedy universe, I didn’t expect to feel that familiar rush again. But the moment Tadaka (Rashmika Mandanna) entered, her movements faster than sight, her senses sharper than sound, I couldn’t help but grin. As there it was, the thrill of encountering something superhuman yet strangely human. For a fleeting second, I wasn’t in a theatre anymore! I was back to seeing Robert Pattinson’s pale white face shimmer in the sunlight, that half-smile that made danger look divine.

It wasn’t about spotting a “Dracula” in an Indian setting; it was the nostalgia of being pulled back into a world I thought I’d left behind. A world I first entered through Stephenie Meyer’s books and then the film adaptations that defined an era - Twilight, New Moon, Eclipse, and Breaking Dawn. So imagine if Gen Z’s summer crush is Belly from The Summer I Turned Pretty, caught between two brothers, I had Bella Swan (Kristen Stewart)torn between a vampire and a werewolf. I still remember being a teenager, clutching Meyer’s novels like they were sacred secrets. Back then, I watched Bella stumble into Edward’s world of vampires, drawn by his mystery. But her love story wasn’t just a teenage fantasy; it was an emotional whirlwind that asked whether love could transcend mortality itself.

As she noticed the little things first like how his eyes flickered between black and gold, how his skin seemed too flawless, too cold. And then came her curiosity, the kind only teenage hearts are capable of so she Googled, researched, asked questions that spiraled into myths and legends until she finally pieced together the truth that Edward Cullen was a vampire. But what fascinated me wasn’t the revelation but what came after. The fact that Edward, despite every instinct to stay away, chose love over caution while Bella, despite every warning, chose curiosity over fear. And with them, I learned that vampires weren’t just creatures of horror, they were metaphors for restraint, for hunger, for the eternal tug between control and surrender. Cullen’s refusal to drink human blood wasn’t just about morality; it was about fighting the parts of yourself that you’re most ashamed of. Edward’s mind-reading gift, the one that excluded Bella, was the very thing that made him crave her more because she was the only mystery he couldn’t solve.

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Even the world around them was meticulously built. There was an entire vampire council, the Volturi, composed of Greek mythology-like brother gods - Aro, Caius, and Marcus, who ruled their kind, ensuring that the existence of vampires that were divided into the ones who preyed on humans and ones who didn’t stayed hidden from humans. The rules were many but one was rather simple - if you revealed yourself, you died. It was this law that drove Edward to the brink of self-destruction in New Moon, believing he’d endangered Bella simply by loving her. And then, of course, there was Jacob Black (Taylor Lautner), Bella’s childhood friend, whose story revealed another myth entirely. A member of the Quileute tribe, he wasn’t just a boy next door; he was a werewolf. His transformation on a full moon wasn’t about monstrosity but protection. The wolves existed to balance the vampires, sworn enemies bound by fate. Yet even in that rivalry, as seen in Eclispe, Bella’s heart was torn between the cold stillness of Edward and the fiery warmth of Jacob, between eternal love and human comfort.

As I watched Thamma, I found myself connecting dots in the most unexpected ways. The film’s idea of betaals mythic beings whose immortality turns them into protectors of the earth reminded me of the same philosophical reimagining that Twilight Saga achieved with a love story of course. Both stories strip away the horror from the supernatural. They ask us to look at these beings not as monsters, but as guardians, cursed with longevity yet blessed with purpose. But what Thammacouldn’t fully capture was that emotional depth that slow, indulgent world-building of the Twilight Saga excelled at. Across its four films, the saga didn’t just tell a story, it built a belief system. It made me care about the Volturi’s rules, Edward’s inner battles, Jacob's hurt, and Bella’s eventual transformation into a vampire herself. When she chose that life with the sharp canines, heightened senses, and immortality, it wasn’t just a romantic decision but something symbolic as it meant choosing to be reborn into a world of contradictions, where beauty and danger coexisted.

That’s why Twilight Saga, despite of its foolish teenager heartbeat stayed with me. It made me realize that myths and fantasies aren’t escapes, they’re mirrors. They reflect our desire to be seen, to belong, to feel extraordinary in an ordinary world. In Breaking Dawn, when Jacob imprints on Bella and Edward’s hybrid daughter, an act of eternal connection that defies human logic, it’s not just a bizarre fantasy, but a story coming full circle where love as destiny is something you can neither control nor explain. Something I missed in Thamma as it flirts with mythology and creates exciting textures but doesn’t linger long enough to let us live in that world.

In Twilight Saga, I didn’t just watch vampires and werewolves, I believed in them. I believed that the Volturi existed somewhere in Italy, that Edward really sparkled in the sunlight, and that Jacob’s heartbeat could be heard in the rustling of the forest. Maybe that’s why I’ll always look back at the saga with a strange tenderness as it wasn’t just a love story for me, it was a coming-of-age in disguise. As my younger self couldn’t feel more relatable to the socially awkward, introverted Bella Swan who fell into the wild adventure of a love story, who taught me that love can be dangerous and still worth chasing, that enemies can still protect one another, and that sometimes the most monstrous hearts beat the loudest.

And for that, I’m glad that Thamma reminded me of Twilight Saga again, one that completes its 20th anniversary by now. It also reminded me of the stories that first made me believe that fantasy could be real in a way where myths could save you from yourself. And that even inside the coldest, deadliest creatures, there’s still a heartbeat waiting to be heard! 

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